The Happy Accicent.

I was peddling my way to work this evening, when I was stuck by a careless cyclist from the opposite direction, head on.

Chengfu Lu is typically a very congested artery in Wudaokou, with pedestrians, cyclists, and motorists all competing for their momentary space in time on the road. As I mentioned in my earlier blogs, people here could care less about what colour the lights are, as signals are merely street decorations. One would even begin to wonder if vehicles here are equipped with turning signals at all, as they're rarely used, and therefore, rarely seen. To add salt to an already scalding wound, Beijingers (I will refrain from using the broader term, Chinese, as not all Chinese people may behave and act the same way as Beijingers) are absent-minded people. I may be taking a stab in the dark here, but most people around the world instinctively look both ways before crossing the road. Perhaps this is where some would accuse me of looking at things with a "Western-arrogance-view", but I thought this was something that's commonly firmly planted in the brain from early childhood, along with the "don't go running after the ball", and "say thank you".

So there I was, already running late for my next appointment, when I saw this cyclist advancing quickly, swerving in and out like a downhill skier. As there were vehicles to the left of me and pedestrians to the right, all I could do was slow down to minimise the anticipated impact. As soon as it happened, my front tyre went flying in the air with the fork that snapped off the rest of the bike frame. There's something to be said about Chinese engineering, but I'll leave that for another ranting blog entry (Note to self: Do a "Best of Rants" feature or a "Top 10 List" of rants like on Letterman).

After gaining my composure and picking myself off the ground, everyone around me along with the ambient noise faded into oblivion as I focused my attention on this culprit standing before me and started to curse using the most profane of words ever to come out of my otherwise hygienic mouth. I had ceased this string of profanity, however, when this Chinese man who looked to be in his mid 30s, didn't seem to understand any of the words I had said to him in English, thus, not taking any offence. He proceeded to talk to me in Chinese and seemed rather apologetic, to my surprise. From what I heard from others, I learned that Beijingers rarely fault themselves and take full responsibility when confronted with a problem, so when this Chinese cyclist showed compassion and guilt, I could no longer continue with my angry holler. Because of the apparent language barrier between us, I pulled out my mobile and called a friend of mine to translate. And that's when I noticed my bleeding knuckles and the smudges of blood on my valise. When he saw what I saw, he took out a bandage and carefully wrapped it around my wound while I was on the phone.

From the swapping back and forth of my mobile with my bilingual friend on the line, I eventually learned that this guy was really apologetic and wanted to help me reach my destination. He offered me his own bike, which didn't seem to have any damage from the head-on collision, and even offered to have my bike repaired! Who in my situation, could be mad any longer? Hopping on to his red road-warrior, which was actually designed to move with great speed with those handlebars that curl while sitting in that aerodynamic position, we parted ways after exchanging phone numbers. As I was moving forward, I turned to look behind me and saw him carry my bike over his shoulder, front assembly hanging only by brake cords.

After my hard days work, I met up with this guy at the local McDonalds, where we exchanged bikes and had a nice chat over coffee through a friend he brought along as a translator. He turned out to be quite the active character, involved with rowing and cycling. That explained why he looked so fit and strong. He took this literal "run-in" accident as a sort of kismet, excited with the possibility that he could get English lessons through me.

He paid to get my bike back in working order again, with a new fork that's been salvaged from another bike. Light-grey in colour, it is noticeably different from the rest of the black bike frame, but I didn't care. In fact, this made it even easier for me to distinguish my bike from a sea of other bikes.

Perhaps we'll meet again, preferably in a non-accidental way...