The Blog

The other day, I made an impulse buy. But unlike most of my impulse buys, this one is actually useful:

Yep. A bike.

You know how people say everything is cheaper in China? Well, it’s true. You will never guess how much I paid for this (slightly ok-kind-of-really worn) contraption.

$100, you say? Psh. Please. Lower.

$60? AS IF. Lower.

$40? Getting warmer…

$24.8822 US Dollars? Why yes, based on present-day currency conversions, you would be correct!

Yep, I paid less than $25 for a bike, basket pre-attached. It’s been three days since the purchase and I’m already in love with this rusty old thing.

Bike culture is pretty big in China. I regret having never caught on to the craze in Shenzhen, but luckily I bought one here in Beijing long before the roads got too icy to use it.

Riding through the streets of Beijing for the first time was a little terrifying. There are designated bike lanes on every road, but to most drivers in China—who are rather notorious for being awful, a fact which I can personally attest to—they’re really more like guidelines. Add to that the constant uncertainty of knowing when a pedestrian will dart out into the streets, as well as aggressive, speed-happy motorbikers who nearly brush against you as they pass ahead, and you’ve got the perfect recipe for a potential disaster.

As I rode through the neighborhood for the first time on this bike, I felt a little rebellious—kind of like that time when I was four-years old and, against mom’s orders, rode my Big Wheel all the way to the end of our street, instead of to my designated turn-around point five houses down. Except this time, the danger was immediately evident. Making my way towards the Bird’s Nest and Water Cube, I kept my whitened knuckles firmly gripped to the handles, ready to put on the brakes at any given moment. I gasped a few times as people, other bikers and taxi cabs popped out of nowhere.

Of course, Beijing’s roads are nothing compared to Ho Chi Minh City’s. When I visited in February, I risked my life every time I crossed the street. There, motorcyclists, car drivers and bikers all share the same road. And unlike Beijing, there are far more bikers and motorcyclists than car drivers.

Motorcycles. Everywhere. Ho Chi Minh City.

I’ve taken the bike out for a few spins since Saturday, and I’m beginning to get the hang of it. However, I have yet to lose that adrenaline rush I get each time I emerge from the neighborhood gates.