I've been stalking Craigslist, stopping and "asking" (a.k.a. pointing & foolishly gesturing) to the dozen or so Korean bike shop owners around the neighborhood, and whining to myself about walking everywhere in this stupid heat since June. Regular, not-so-far-away errands were a huge inconvenience to me. Annoying. After being home in "normal" heat and humidity and sort of dreading coming back, I decided I'd have a dang bike by the end of the week, no matter if it was cute or not.
I wanted a beach cruiser specifically because I pictured myself leisurely pedaling along the brick sidewalks and narrow, crowded alleys with a nice breeze in my face. I wanted to be able to sit upright, and I'm not interested in climbing any trails or hopping any curbs or ramps. No thanks. When an intense looking Korean, suited up from head-to-toe, or a sweaty soldier blazes by me on a tricked-out mountain bike, it makes me yawn.
"Good for you," I think. "You go girl. I'll poke along at 25 mph and enjoy the view."
To justify this substantial purchase to myself as well as the husband, I told myself I'd use it to do all my errands: to go to the market or commissary, the library, to my volunteer job, and to the subway if I was venturing further.
Errands wouldn't be such a bummer anymore. And errands, a.ka. sometimes maybe possibly purchasing junk/crap we don't necessarily need, most definitely requires a basket. This beautiful beach cruiser I had in mind had to have a basket, and also had to have this thing on the back that I don't know the name of... It's like a rack sorta thing and lots of people around here strap milk crates onto it with bungee cords. If I get really ambitious and go grocery shopping and per usual buy half the store, or purchase a large Korean stone statue for my future back-in-the-states garden, I'll definitely find/borrow/steal a milk crate and lock an' load.
I was on Craigslist just about every day looking for a bike that suited my absurd aesthetic taste. Mint or blush or yellow was my wish for color, and beyond that I didn't have much preference in way of whatever you should specifically want in a bike. (I mean, let's be honest, what the heck do I know? The pedals should stay on and the chain shouldn't be rusty and the brakes should definitely work and the tires shouldn't be flat...right? What else is there?)
I looked & looked but mostly found the popular weird little bikes that have two different size weird tires (like a clown bike!) and stupid, serious mountain bikes. These obvi didn't look comfy (or cool at all, hello!) and I was getting disappointed over & over. (And a little PO'd.)
Then last week I actually found a beautiful, slightly aged, MINT BEACH CRUISER for LESS than I thought I'd pay. I was psyched. I emailed the lister right away and then obsessively checked my phone every 5 minutes... Sadly, it sold and not to me.
Sadface.
By the afternoon, I was over it and decided I couldn't wait anymore.
Walking to post takes about 15-20 minutes, walking to the train takes about 10, and walking to any stores worth going to - forGET it. It is so SO SOOO stinkin' hot and stupidly humid here that you sweat standing still. It's irritating. It's hotter than Georgia, which, to me makes no sense. If you're not in the jungle or desert, WHY does it have to be so hot?
Get it together, God.
I walked the 3 blocks up the main street outside of our apartment complex to a tiny, low ceilinged, dimly lit bike shop that I'd passed a million times on my stupid walks to and from post. I had spotted a bright pink & white cutie on display and had inspected it several times, but decided against it because it was TOO bright a pink and the light pink handle bars were lame. I wanted pink but it had to be the right shade of pink. The handle bars were also not "beach cruiser enough." (Sometimes it's exhausting being me, ok?)
There were tools and parts scattered all over the floor inside, so the transaction took place on the sidewalk.
The short little lady was really nice, though we couldn't speak one word of one another's language, and she seemed pumped that she'd made a sale. She showed the total to me on a calculator, and after happily taking my credit card, she ripped off the cardboard & plastic coverings with a flourish. She set to work quickly tightening everything that needed tightening, screwing the pedals on, and adjusting the seat for me. I was excited. Then she tried to sell a lock to me, which IS important, but, Hi - I love a bargain and I wasn't about to pay 10,000 won for one.
This is equivalent to about ten bucks. Get on my level, people.
I too happily pedaled away toward our apartment, probably smiling like a dork. The seat was pretty comfy, and even though it wasn't exactly what I wanted, being a little girl shade of pink instead of a blush, no one had forced me to impatiently buy the one I just had.
Two weeks later, I've decided that maybe maaayyyybe I'll paint it when we're back home, but overall, I'm very happy with my new wheels.
I appreciate travel times being cut in half, I love the breeze in my face, and I stole a clashing but useful blue milk crate from my very own roommate.
Oh, did I mention it has a bell?!
So useful. So economic!
Veggies from my nearby market. ---------------->
The family that runs it doesn't know any English, and duh I don't know much Korean yet. All we can say is 'hello' and 'thank you' to each other.
But this little guy is always there, and he's very talkative.
Until I learn his actual name, he shall be called Timmy.
(Fun fact: in Korean, cats do not say "meow."
They say "yawoll.")
For those of you who judged the basket requirement...
Who's judgin' now?!?!?
