Like Riding a Bike Without Brakes…

            No, this is not some philosophical metaphor for my study abroad experience, (though in some ways, it very well could be…) and yes I did make it through this adventure unscathed (if you don’t count grease stains on my pants, stepping in poop, and narrowly avoiding crashing into a pole).  I did, however, end up having a very interesting experience. 

            I would first like to advise anyone who has ever contemplated riding a bike without brakes on the Indian roads, or any road for that matter, to reconsider.  For though it proved to be a worthwhile adventure, the security of being able to stop without having to jump off of the bike would have been appreciated. 

            This story begins on a Saturday afternoon.  Some of our group was planning to travel into Bangalore, while the five of us who opted for a more low key evening decided to hang around Visthar.  Lured by the promise of nutella, we made plans to visit the local grocery store.  Emma, an intern at Vistar who knew where the store was, led the way.  The bikes proved problematic from the start.  After finally finding enough available bikes on campus that were unlocked, we soon discovered that Amy’s had a broken chain and two others lacked brakes.  After Amy’s bike proved impossible to ride, we ended up having Kalyn perch on the basket on the back of Anna’s bike and headed on our way.  Fortunately, we live out in the country so traffic was relatively low— though it’s still terrifying when a car comes up behind you obnoxiously honking their horn to get past— and the terrain was relatively flat.  At one point, some young Indian boys sped past us riding two to a bike just as Anna and Kalyn were attempting to do.  They made it look so easy! (Though, the passenger in this situation was probably no older than 12, so these kids definitely had an advantage).  I’m sure they weren’t the only ones to laugh at how ridiculous we looked!

            After weaving around cars, pedestrians, and the occasional rickshaw along the winding country road, we arrived at the grocery store.   It was small, and had a retail of about 75% spices, with the rest consisting of shampoo, toiletries, and a wide variety of chocolates.  Missing American comfort foods, we were excited to find nutella, Pringles, Oreos, and a variety of Western candies.  Simply browsing the shelves of the store was interesting.  I’ve never been to a grocery store in a different country, and looking at the foods available was a brief window into the culture we are working to become apart of.  After picking up some snacks and what I was hoping to be some sort of stain treatment for the bike grease stains that appeared on my pants over the course of this adventure, we headed back.

            Though riding back proved to be a bit stressful— the hectic traffic, adjusting to riding on the opposite side of the road, and not to mention the cow poop I accidently stepped in— I decided to stop, breathe, and think about all that was around me.  As I coasted along the road admiring the tropical trees and plants, a car sped past blaring Indian music from its windows.  I suddenly realized that I had just successfully made a visit to a grocery store, a seemingly basic task, in India.  Though I had been abroad for a full week at this point, the whole experience of being here had still been a bit surreal.  But in this moment, things felt comfortable and real.  The scenery was beautiful and the people we encountered on the roads were kind (multiple times, noticing my awkward riding due to the lack of brakes, people had asked if I was alright).  I finally felt like I could stay for a while. 

            The rest of the ride back went pretty smoothly… until the road gently began to decline downhill.  As I began to pick up speed, I realized that I couldn’t slow down.  I spotted a driveway and decided to coast in, hoping I could slow to a stop.  It quickly become clear that my plan wouldn’t make a difference and that I needed to get off of the bike ASAP.  With an unexpected leap of faith, I jumped from the bike and miraculously landed on my feet.  The bike whizzed past me, and bumped into a pole.  Being someone who is generally uncoordinated, I was in disbelief at how gracefully I had dismounted the bike, not to mention thankful that I hadn’t crashed.  When my friends realized I was ok, we all laughed— this trip to the grocery store definitely ended up being more of an adventure than we had anticipated. 

After narrowly hitting the pole, one of my friends commented on how, through all of this, I was still very calm about things.  I thought about what she said.  True, I had encountered some undeniably bad luck— a “rogue bicycle”, ruined pants, and poop covered shoes— but I still felt un-phased.  To me, this journey represented everything that taking risks was about.  Sometimes life is a little bit like riding a bike without brakes— uncontrollable, scary, and flying past you, but in the end filled with experiences from which to grow. 

DISCLAIMER:  I am in no way encouraging you, readers, to attempt to ride a bike without brakes (especially in India).  It’s terrifying I never plan to do it again.