I lived in China for a year and a half where I worked as an English teacher, and resided with a host family to fully experience life as a local. In this time I was able to experience first-hand the bicycles in China in all of their interesting forms. I had no prior knowledge of Chinese, or any previous teaching experience for that matter, but sometimes you figure things out by diving in head first. Jiangmen is where I called home, a tiny “town” of four million located in the South of China—as compared to the much larger cities, four million does feel quite rural. Here, bicycles still had a fighting chance and were always a source of entertainment and brother/sisterhood for me. Before I arrived I had been warned: “You know”, my boss began in an all-knowing tone, “no one rides bicycles anymore. It’s too dangerous. You’ll be the only one. You should get a motorcycle instead.” As a seasoned traveler, I never trust words like these and upon arrival was immediately pointing out every single bicycle I saw. There were still many bicycles, but it was true that the streets packed full of cyclists that I had dreamed about were simply not there. There were lots of purring motors on two wheels though. I felt like those noisy things were constantly accosting me. Even in my bedroom I could hear them honking, revving and speeding around. “Beep, beep, ba- beeeeep!” their horns would cry out as they swerved around an old woman and blazed through a red light. I grew to hate the motos and praise the calm creak of the bicycles and quiet buzz of the e-bikes. A gloriously quiet, narrow alleyway would vanish in a second as a moto raced through polluting the air and the solitude.
Though the bicycles were outnumbered I was used to that, and as I saw it there were still tons of bicycles comparatively, all creatively set-up to manage daily tasks and serious work hauls. I was in love with the bicycles of China and I couldn’t take my curious eyes away. Everyday commuter bikes, sport bikes, fixed gears, work bikes and cargo trikes all pushing and peddling, mixing and melding on the streets. After just a weeklong immersion, I knew this was a scene I could not be left out of.
Ignoring the warnings of my superiors, I made it clear that I would in fact be riding a bicycle around this city. My host father took note that the one word I kept trying to say with great emphasis, was “自行车” “Zìxíngchē” (which literally means “personal travel machine”) and excitedly presented me with a bicycle he had fixed up not more than a week after I’d arrived. “Zìxíngchē! Zìxíngchē!” I exclaimed, likely with terrible pronunciation. ZhongGuo Ba Ba, (Chinese father) as I half-jokingly called him, understood my language attempts and watched me like any proud parent as I took my first ride down the street on that freshly spray painted blue and silver steel single speed, step-through, rack-and-basket fitted, probably been around for 20 years, recycled, pure-China bicycle. I was ready to join the People.
Side note: My host father (real name, 陈国强, Chen GuoQiang) is one of the most amazing, kind, thoughtful, resourceful, generous