A pleasant lady walked into the bike store I work at:

Customer: “Can you help me take my daughter’s bike out of the car? It isn’t riding as well as it had been when I got it.”

I stride over to her minivan and lug out a beautiful, spotless blue Bianchi. It looked like it had been ridden maybe twice. I start testing parts of the bike:

Me: “Hmm, brakes are snappy. The chain has zero rust and zero stretch. This bike is basically good as new.”

Then I look down.

Me: “Oh! There’s the issue. The tires are empty. When did you or your daughter fill them last?”

Customer: “You have to fill them?”

Me: “Uh… yes. Just like car tires.”

Customer: “Wait, car tires are filled too? Filled with what?”

Me: “Air.”

Customer: “But there’s so much air outside! Why can’t it just, like, seep into the tire?”

Me: “Here, lemme pump these up for you…”

It was quicker and easier to pump them up instead of explaining why tires need air. I casually glanced at the tires to her minivan too, just to make sure…

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.*