Bike Chronicles Part I: The (Mis-)Adventures of Dr. Dread, Japan series

My first serious biking accident (in Japan, anyway) was at a time I as going home to Misasagi, around a month or so ago. It was around 3:00 in the afternoon, and I hadn't had any sleep since the day before. (Hey, I'm setting the scene here).

My old and awfully inconvenient route went something like this: From Kyodai, I take Higashioji-dori (Higashioji Street) straight up to Sanjo-dori, then turn left and follow Sanjo all the way up(hill) to Misasagi. Nearing the Sanjo intersection, Higashioji-dori's sidewalks begin to narrow. Narrow sidewalks in Japan, by the way, mean that two bikers and a lamppost are a tight squeeze. Anyway, since the aforementioned lack of sleep led me to doubt the speed of my reaction time, I decided to take my bike out into the much wider street. (Another stupid-thing-to-do-in-retrospect.)

After three blocks (and three million cars zipping by), and spotting a clear (albeit still narrow) sidewalk, I decide to take my bike back into the pavement. Now, Japan sidewalks are usually biker-friendly, meaning there are no humps to make you bounce on your bike like a rodeo star bent on reaching the 8-second buzzer. In true fashion, I had to choose the one exception... And as my front wheel hit the hump, and my bike jerked in reaction, my brain lost no time in shutting down and my hands immediately assumed no responsibility by letting go of the handlebars, while my eyes widened in quicksilver-stages and 3 million uh-ohs rang in my head.

I landed hard, and so did my bike. Luckily, save for scraped palms, torn jeans and a bruised ego, I was okay. I heaved my bike up and got on it, bent on biking all the way home. (Bruised ego cursing and Eye of the Tiger playing in the background.) I put my foot on the pedal, ready to go... But nothing happened! The chain had come off the grears!!! (Note to self: Buy Cycling for Dummies.) Like any independent 90s woman, I try to fix the problem by myself while surreptitiously looking out for a cute guy to offer help.

Alas, scraped palms, grimy hands and a broken fingernail later, and still thrown hopelessly out of gear, I give up. I walk my bike back to the university, to the shop where I bought it. The only place I knew I could get help.

I walk for thirty minutes (all the while shamefully hiding my grimy hands, curling the greasy fingernails into my palms), back up the street I (and three million cars) had just zipped by, suffering what-the-fuck looks from other bikers. (If you see my very "kakkoii," very "nice" badass-bike, you'll understand.) I finally reach the shop, and with a grave "Tasukete kudasai," asked the owner to fix my bike. He was very kind nice about it, and even gave me a stern lecture on safety. (Actually, the only words of the lecture I understood was "dangerous" and "cars"; stern was deduced from his expression, but nevermind that.) Anyway, after all this, I took a deep breath, gave thanks that I was not seriously injured, and got myself ready to... Park my bike at school and take the bus and subway home. And that's exactly what I did.





Note to reader:

All of the above was actually meant as an introduction to my second though not-so-serious accident, which happened yesterday, and was somewhat similar to the first. Somewhat similar because the second one also happened as I was on my way home, suffering from lack of sleep, and the chain had also come off the gears. However, this time, I did not get thrown off (I jumped off gracefully, there's a difference), and suffered no scraped palm or what not (although ego was slightly bruised).

Anyway, since the introduction became the entire story, let me get to my point quickly and painlessly: I fixed the chain-had-come-off problem all by myself!!!!!! And save for grimy and greasy hands, which are totally unavoidable, really, I was no worse for wear!

And so, this time around, with my grimy hands like a proud banner, I get on my bike, grip the handlebars with new-found confidence, and position my foot onto the pedal: I was ready. I was ready to take on anything, set to finish the course. And with head held high, I went home.

(In the background, playing: Chariots of Fire, ego humming along.)