The Inconvenience of Convenience

I mentioned in previous posts that I had bought a bicycle as one of my first orders of business upon setting foot in Shenzhen. When I purchased the bike, I did so with the help of Charlie (my contact teacher at my school) and Anson (the contact teacher at Caitlin's school). Anson had recently purchased at least two bikes from this particular shop. I felt secure in the transaction--having two locals who could also operate as translators, arbiters of quality, and testifiers to the shop's trustworthiness--and have since realized that that may have been a false sense of security.

Within three days of buying my brand new blue bike, I exerted a little too much force when hauling up a hill to make a lunch date. Consequently, the rubber pedals both broke. I MacGyver-ed the pedals to the bike using cardboard and duct tape; I realized, however, that this was only temporary.




A few days ago, I returned to the shop to get two new pedals. A young mechanic (young meaning: "young enough to be attending my school, but probably does not attend any school") popped on two new pedals, charged me 10 RMB, and sent me on my way. By the time I took my last turn to return to my hotel, the left pedal fell out of it's socket.

It turns out, the pedal was a size too small for the socket.

So, I returned to the shop. I handed the same young mechanic (his older brother and father busied with other costumers) the pedal. He tinkered around with the pedal and the socket. He realized my problem. He decided on a solution as assinine as my MacGyver job.

As the kid smoldered the pedal to the socket, I noted his father watching while still assisting another customer. I fretted not, realizing the child's error and realizing the father also was realizing the child's error. Sure enough, the father chastised the young mechanic and demonstrated how inviable the fix would be by riding the bike up and down the sidewalk: with each round of the pedals, the left one wobbled and threatened to snap. So, the young mechanic had to now replace the entire pedal and socket piece (sorry for my poor knowledge of bicycle engineering). He even upgraded me to metal pedals. "You pay now": 10 RMB.

"Young Mechanic" "hard at work" on my bike.

Halfway back to my hotel, the socket piece fell off the axle. So, I walked the bike a quarter of a mile back to the shop. The father chastised the young mechanic some more and then personally handled my case. He sledgehammered the same socket piece onto the axle; the socket piece clangs to the ground--still a size to big for the axle. So, the father smolders the socket piece to the axle and frustratedly waves me away.

Though my ride home was smooth, I am now wary to apply any pressure on the left pedal. I pedal mostly with the right leg. It is awkward.

I have not even told you, yet, of the annoyance of lugging my bike up a flight of stairs to my hotel room. Nor have I told you, yet, about how much I sweat while doing so--a friend recently said he would give Shenzhen a "10-out-of-10" if it weren't for how hot it is.

I think there is a lesson to learn here aside from this one. And, I think it is a lesson that I continue to learn. I am constantly attempting to widen my embrace that is trust, even though I am constantly reminded to be more guarded and cautious. And regardless of what the universal ratio of trustworthiness to deception or to faultiness is, the instances in which the latter halves come forward always seem to be the most memorable and most poignant. The pain of shame or the strain of pride are both so annoyingly unforgettable and necessarily formative. In order to "learn my lesson" so as to prevent being let down or embarassed or shorted, I have to darken my outlook a little. I have to decrease the size of my embrace that is trust. I have to become more skeptical and cynical.

Will this lead to a point at which I become another dark person? Or does it inevitably lead to an aged perspective that entails a dimming of bright eyes? I fear the isolating effects that skepticism and caution entail.

As evidenced by my bike (merely chicken feed in comparrisson to other misortunes involving misplaced trust), I have not figured out how to best allocate my trust in the world. But as evidenced by this blog post, I have figured out how necessary it is to be more conscious of how I extend my embrace that is trust.

Books, Music, Movies, T.V.: Oracle Bones, I will soon begin The Story of the Stone (a gift from June), "Yawny at the Apocalypse" by Andrew Bird, "Look for the Silver Lining" by Chet Baker, "Plasticities" by Andrew Bird, and I just began watching Mad Men--and I really like it.