Blending with Traffic

How I Smashed My Favorite Shopping Bicycle Before Thousands of Onlookers.

Last month while I was on my zillionth job search I crawled out of my apartment to bike downtown and pick up the Monday Japan Times to get the weekly job advertisements. The noble steed of transportation was my "mama-shari" shopping bicycle, a stolid, traditional means of getting around. One-speed, one basket, one light and two brakes that any self-respecting SF rider would scorn as "soft". Everyone in Japan has one of these...

Looks harmless.

Ginza Intersection. Eventually I found myself at the biggest intersection in Ginza, where two runways euphamestically termed "roads" intersect. As usual, an early afternoon crowd of thousands were waiting on all four sides for the red light to go green. The feel of a crowd this large is like being a piece of seaweed floating on the waves as the beach approaches, a certain tension to break.

There is a pause, a final bit, as the lights all turn red, but a couple of lanes can still make their long-awaited left-hand turn. At the same time, someone usually puts a tentative foot forward. And the last taxi driver in a long line charges the yellow light just a bit. And one distracted bicycle rider thinking about her unemloyment status interprets all this as the time to get out there just ahead of the impending masses.

You can imagine what happens next.

Yikes! A taxi!

Years Of Training Comes To this.... Two brakes don't equal stopping on a dime. Bike meets taxi. Hey, the hood and windshield are pretty hard! I see my feet pointing up at the sky. Tuck into classic aikido form for falling fast from a distance above ground.

Sounds brakes squeal and a loud collective intake of breath from the teeming masses.

I see the road spread out before me, 1 inch from my face. I've landed on my side, after a very acrobatic tobu-ukemi (flying fall). Quick visions of disaster in my mind and I must prove to me that I'm ok first, so I'm up on my feet and retrieve my purse in the crosswalk. That fall was perfect aikido and I'm fine. Can I go now?

The crowd surges across within the green light time. Several people form a kind of protective corral around me. One man asks immediately about my health and well-being. Several times. He's looking around.

Is This The Police? Two ladies in police outfits show up. Wait, it's not a costume party like the rest of Tokyo. They really are policegals.

What followed was blending with everyone. The taxi driver was stoic throughout.

The Damages. The taxi was dented. My bike front tire was twisted.

I totter the bike over to the corner at the polite and insistant wave of the p'gal's white gloved hand (Honorable and possibly damaged guest, you will kindly conduct yourself in this direction to THIS SPOT on the curb)

Meanwhile, the traffic lights change again and the thousands of onlookers finish their walk across the street.

My right hip hurts, right where I would have taken a really spectacular high-fall on the aikido mat. Cool. I must have landed just right. The best apologies for my stupidity to the driver for his time and taxi, repeated often. "Moshiwake..

...35 minutes later I am still there. An ambulence has been called. Arrived in 5 minutes, sirens blaring, everyone looking around for The Victim. Out pops at man wearing a white mask. I am not encourage. Can't understand his Japanese as the mask muffles it. Eventually, I sign a form that Mr. Ginza Hospitality assures me waives my rights to die by not accompanying them to the hospital like a good girl.

My Poor Bike. Eventually, everyone is satisfied and I totter off on bicycle, now reduced to pretty much a mangled hunk of junk. If I can just get home. However, the front wheel is smoking from the wobbly wheel brushing against the distraught brake. This means I find a local open car garage in the back alleyways of Ginza. Yes, they exist. I ask one jumpsuited mechanic for help. Soon he is joined by his congenial crew and boss.

They dissemble the brake and wheel. Blocks of wood are assembled and they take turns standing on the wheel to convince it back into a roughly round shape. They watch as Mr. Young Mechanic displays considerable verve reassembling my bike after several checks that all meets their collective approval. I am grateful. This gets me home.

Aftermath. Not long after I found my job at UBS and bought a used but much better bike. I no longer charge the traffic lights. I still practice aikido regularly.

© 2008. Comments to Patricia Yarrow
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