I had just moved to Tokyo during my studies at the university, and I soon realized that taking the metro every day was going to take a large toll on my limited student finances. So, I decided to purchase a cheap bicycle and use it for my daily commute. I went to the cheapest shop I was aware of (the one whose name reminds me of a Spanish literature hero) and bought the bicycle-shaped object that they had in stock.

Important thing to notice is that I am 1.95 meters tall (6 feet 4 inches), and for sure that thing I bought wasn’t made for my size: I soon realized that I looked (and felt) like the Japanese version of Krusty the Clown when riding his miniature bicycle, my knees hitting the bar every time.

I decided to stop at a bike mechanic near my place and try my luck with a higher post. Of course, not speaking any Japanese, I could only mimic my question to the old man who welcomed me:

– Point at my body
– point at the bike post
– sit on the bike
– point at the knee, hitting the bar
– moving my hands from the current length of the post to something longer

There is a stereotype of Japanese customer service being super friendly, but the old man could not help but burst in laughter, and with his hands gesturing something which I interpreted as, “Young man, I can do some stuff, but I am not equipped for miracles yet!”

He gave me a taller post and kept the old one, without asking for any money. As long as I lived there, every time I passed in front of his shop, I always waved at him for his amusement.

A man comes in wheeling an older road bike. It’s covered in dust and has clearly been in some kind of storage for a while.

Customer: “Hey, I need this tuned up. I haven’t ridden it in a few years.”

Me: “No problem! Any specific issues you’ve noticed?”

Customer: “Well, it doesn’t seem to want to go uphill anymore.”

Me: *Checking the gears.* “Could be a few things.” *Starts listing possible issues.*

Customer: “Or maybe I just got into my forties and gravity decided to double down.”

I laugh, nodding sympathetically as I keep inspecting the bike.

Customer: “It used to fly up hills. Now it groans like me getting off the couch.”

After a brief pause, he adds:

Customer: “Think you can fix the bike first? I’ll work on my end separately.”

Luckily for the customer, I did identify a couple of bike issues that were independent of his “old age”.

I’m working at a bike shop in 1999, and this guy in his late 60s/early 70s comes in.

Customer: “Do you all have any of them bike shorts with the pad in the seat?”

Me: “Sure, we have those. In order to figure out the best ones for you could you tell me what kind of riding you’re doing?”

Customer: “Oh, no, I don’t do that gay s***. I’m bleeding out of my a** and I don’t want to wear no adult diaper.”

Me: “…”

Customer: “So you all got a pair I can try on?”

Customer: “I want a brake cable installed on my rear derailleur.”

Me: “Brake cables and derailleur cables have different heads that aren’t compatible.”

Customer: “I’m from Arkansas and we do things different down there. You can cut the head and crimp the cables together so the brake cable will have a derailleur cable head.”

Me: “It doesn’t work like that.”

Customer: “Yes it does! Here, let me show us how easy it is.”

He proceeds to cut the cable on his bike, and then stares at it for a few moments. Once he realizes what he’s done:

Customer: “They don’t make things like they used to anymore…” *Slowly wheels his bike out.*

A customer walks into our tiny bike shop jam-packed full of bikes. Bikes are hanging in the window, off the ceiling on the walls, and all over the floor. There is not a square foot of space in the shop that is not occupied by a bike or various parts of one.

Customer: “This is the bike shop, right?”

Me: “Yes.”

Customer: “Do you guys sell bikes or fix them?”

Me: “Both.”

Customer: “If I brought my canoe in could you fix it?”

Me: “Depends, is canoe the name of your bike?”

He got the hint.