Batmobile

I haven't posted in a few days. There's a lot I want to write about, I just don't always have the time and I'm not sure you all want to hear it.

Today I bought a bike, and I call it the Batmobile. Not a new one; one from the “used” (stolen) bike market.

Earlier in the week, one of the Chinese students offered to help my roommate and I find bikes. Up until now, we had been riding the bus everywhere. The buses are cheap and easy. Unfortunately, they are often crowded and hot, and they stop running around 9:00pm.

We left the apartment mid afternoon and met the Chinese student at the agreed upon place. She was planning on selling her bike, so we lugged her bike down the road to what I thought was the legit “used” bike market. Whenever I asked about the bike market, I was told it was near the East gate of campus. I’ve been to the East gate many, many, many times and never once seen a bike market.

We exited East gate and walked down the road about five minutes until we arrived at a building that looked like a replica of the Capitol Building in Washington DC. Of course, it’s about five times smaller and pretty grimy. In front of the dingy replica were several small shops, with vendors calling out their wares.

“The bicycles are behind that building.” The student explained, “It’s forbidden.” I wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but I did take note of the police officers across the street playing cards and drinking tea.

“Oh.”

We continued walking on until the student found a sufficiently shady looking guy to ask about bikes. He led us down a side street to an abandoned storefront. The store was on the far end of a strip of shops. The side facing the street had a seven-foot brick wall built in front of it. We ducked through a small entrance, and waited while the shady guy and several other even more shady guys ran off to fetch bikes for us. The storefront was small, and littered with garbage. The front window had been broken, and a photo hung haphazardly on the wall. We stood and waited.

A minute later the shady guys returned with three bikes for us to try. I sat on the one that had been handed to me. It felt like the right height, and the brakes seemed okay. I tried lifting it; it probably weighs in at forty pounds. The handlebars were still wet with the spray paint used to cover the rust, and the chain and fenders were orange with rust. I wanted to try it out. All three of us mounted the bikes and took off out the door. We rode maybe ten feet before the men came chasing after us and motioned us to return to the storefront.

We each paid eighty kuai. My bike is pretty good. It’s heavy, rusted, and the brakes don’t really work, but it’s just what I need. And because of the shape its in, it stands a lesser chance of being stolen in the next year.