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is there a bike shop around here

the journal of Michael Werneburg

twenty-eight years and a million words

Today I went around the town looking for someone to help me get some air in my tires. I knew a gas station that had a (motorized) pump with a tube fitting affair for the nozzle that would suit my otherwise impossible-to-service Presta valves. But when I got to the gas station this time they told me that they couldn't help me. I explained in Japanese that they'd been able to help two years ago, but the fellow I spoke with was sure it was hopeless. He told me to find a bike store up the road.

I asked him, again in Japanese, how many traffic lights walk I was looking at. He told me three, and I set off. At around the right distance I found an electric motorcycle store, but it was closed (this being Sunday). Pressing on a few more blocks, I didn't find a bike store. So I asked some passing boys, 「この近くに、自転車店がありますか。」("Is there a bike store around here?")

One of the boys hollered back, 「そうだよ」which is basically, "Yeah, man". And that was it.

Eventually, I got back to the gas station and once again pleaded my case, this time positioning myself next to the little silver R2D2 pump device. Eventually a team of three fellows assembled and sorted out a solution to fill my tires 2/3 of the way.

Next time, I'm bringing a hand pump. Oh, and a helmet. Also, I note that my tires are threadbare. What a chore, maintaining a bike for biennial use on the other side of the world. I do have to say it's worth it. My dear chromoly Panasonic seven speed is a superb ride.