My Bicycle(s)

When I arrived, my guesthouse had two bicycles. One was completely out of commission. The other wasn’t much to look at, but anyone with patience, a sense of humor, and a reasonably high tolerance for pain could ride it around town. Possessing these qualities, I found this bike perfectly adequate for my needs, and it has been my companion for some nice evening rides.

My host and his assistants learned that I was parading about town on the clunker, and they insisted against my wishes that I accept a new bike. Four days later, it arrived. It’s easy on the eyes:But it had a few problems. Both tires were flat, neither the front nor the rear brakes worked, the gearshifts had little noticeable effect on the gears, the kickstand dragged along the ground, the front wheel wobbled as it turned, and the chain constantly skipped from gear to gear when the bike moved. It was, in a word, a lemon.

So we take it to the bike shop -- a group of men sitting under a tree on a street corner near the center of town. They patch the tires, tighten the brakes, tweak the gearshifts, fasten the kickstand, stabilize the front wheel, and readjust the metal piece that guides the chain.

Thrilled, I walk from person to person at the bike shop, pumping hands vigorously, effusive with praise and gratitude.

50 paces from the bike shop, the front tire is completely flat.

We turn around. This time, we get new tubes for each tire. More shaking of hands, more praise, and I’m off.

On its maiden voyage, I discover that the gears could still use some tweaking. They grind and skip with each turn of the pedals, impervious to my constant manipulation of the gearshifts. The brakes have no purchase after about two squeezes. The recidivist kickstand soon drags flaccidly along the ground. (Each person I pass points at it and speak to me rapidly in French; I initially stick to the script, waving and saying hello; after about 6 people, I finally get it.) The piece that’s meant to guide the chain catches and jams so the chain won‘t budge. I also discover that the seat is attached to the bike with a single screw, causing it to pivot to a nearly vertical (and painful) angle as I ride.

Demoralized, I am ready to give up. But my host’s employees insist that we take it back to the bike shop for further adjustments. It emerges once again, the very picture of mechanical health.

Guardedly optimistic, I take it for a spin. Aside from the infernal pivoting seat, I begin thinking that I misjudged this bike. It’s not so bad. We could go places to--

A pedal falls off the bike and onto the ground. I pull over to the side and spend 10 minutes (before an increasingly large audience) attempting to put the pedal back on, to no avail.

I have had it. But somehow, I lose a battle the next day and find myself sitting outside a different repair shop. After some difficulty, the pedal is returned to its rightful spot, and the seat is secured at the proper angle.

I ride with a companion to the central market -- a considerable journey. To my surprise, the bike holds up! And we have a nice visit. On the way home, I ride about a hundred meters when the seat dislodges and stands at attention. Bummer, I think, but I can still ride standing up. I will make it home, I vow.

Moments later, the left pedal and the arm that holds it to the bike fall to the ground.

We abandon the bike at a third repair shop.

During my long walk home, I wonder if the bike is a metaphor for this country. I settle for the modest conclusion that I should stick to my original bike from now on. It has seen better days, but it works.

And when it breaks, there’s always walking.