Julie’s replacement pedal crank fell out last week when I was riding her home on Monday. As much as I hated doing it, I had no choice but to contemplate putting her down and getting a new bike. Still, she has a good frame and a basket to die for, and the two of us have been through too many adventures together fighting evil in Shanghai that I knew I had no choice but to keep finding ways to make her whole again. Hence…
Now that the new crank is officially welded on, I feel that I can sleep much better at night. But as I rode to the gym for the first time today, I started wondering (please prepare for a rare dip into the metaphorical here): wouldn’t it be great if people with damaged souls could find a Chinese fixer-upper to weld their wounds together as well?
Lately, I’ve been grappling with my own issue of personal duality: how to be a nice and unselfish male in Shanghai? The frustrating part is that every time I try to think selflessly, to put someone else in front of me, I get called selfish because I’m not man enough to go for what I want. I remember my first few months in Shanghai when I abidingly remained in my spot in the line when scores were cutting in front of me trying to buy subway tickets. I thought. “Eric, it’s important to be a role-model here.” Now, after throwing down many a grandma who tried to squeeze her way in front of at McDonald’s, I’m wondering why, in this society where everyone is looking out for #1, that in some aspects I’m still waiting in line, thinking I’m doing the right thing for everyone involved.
It’s hard to be self reflexive in a city that is moving so fast and furiously around you, swallowing you up in both delusions and illusions of what you are capable and deserving of. Living like kings, men here move through emotions as if they had an short expiration date. In all the chaos and confusion, it’s not surprising that inadvertently, a piece or two can fall off. And not all of us are made like bicycles, where a spare heart and a trusty Chinese welder can repair anything.





