Chapter 2: CHAPTER TWO

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CHAPTER TWO

Parked on its upright stand out on the street in front of the bike shop when I went to pick it up the next day, the cub looked a lot better all cleaned up and proudly showing off its shiny new license plate attached to its rear fender almost as if it was waiting for me to get on it and go. As the mechanic handed me its registration and compulsory liability insurance documents, I just stared at it wondering what the hell I'd gotten myself into. “Umm . . . . How do you drive one of these things?”

The mechanic gave me his ultrafast crash course in how the right handgrip was the throttle, the hand lever in front of it the front wheel brake, the top switch on the left hand grip the headlight, the switch below that the turn signals, the lever below that the choke, the button next to it the horn, the pedal in front of the right footrest the back wheel brake, and the long pedal straddling the left footrest the three-speed gearshift.

“Each time you step down on it in the front it goes up one gear, step down on it in back it goes down one, the clutch is automatic, that green light on the speedometer comes on when you're in neutral, and that little valve halfway down the leg guard is the gas cock that opens the reserve tank when you're running low on gas.”

Tentatively, I mounted the tiny triangular seat, put my feet on the footrests and looked all over the cub trying to figure out where all the different pedals, switches, buttons, and levers he'd just rattled off were and what they were for. “Hey, where's the starter button?”

The mechanic grinned, pointed to the kick pedal behind the right footrest then turned and went back inside his shop letting me know that from now on it was all up to me.

I breathed out, planted both feet on the pavement and shoved the cub with me on it off its stand. I turned the key in the ignition stuck on the leg guard and the green light on the speedometer blinked on. I put my right foot on the starter pedal and kicked down. The engine sputtered once and quit. More gas? I twisted the right handgrip throttle back a bit and kicked again. It sputtered a few times more but still didn't catch. I kicked down harder. It sputtered a bit longer then started putt-putting steadily. I twisted the throttle back a lot farther. The putt-putting revved up to a rapid staccato.

So why aren't we moving?

Then I remembered the gearshift. I pressed my left foot down on the front of the gearshift pedal, felt it shift into first, let the pedal come back up and BANG! the front wheel jumped into the air as the back wheel drive kicked in and spun with all the power of the revved up engine. I hung on for dear life but almost lost my hold on the handgrips. Then the front wheel banged back down on the pavement and I found myself moving! A car zoomed by, almost knocked me over.

I fought to get my wits about me. Steadying my hold on the handlebars and feet on the footrests, I cautiously began steering more into the street. I stepped on the gearshift pedal again, put us into second. The cub didn't buck this time but another car zoomed by even closer. I pulled the throttle back farther. The engine revved up even more and we started going faster. Two more cars zoomed by honking I didn't belong here.

Oh yeah? I'll show you guys!
I stepped on the shift pedal again putting us in third and pulled the throttle all the way back. In no time at all I found myself catching up with those arrogant cars.

Ha, ha! I'm flying on thin air down a Japanese street!

I looked down. Yes, the little cub was still under me all right and putting away like mad and the speedometer needle was spiraling past 50 kilometers and closing in on its maximum 60 or better than 40 miles per hour I let up on the throttle and the needle began to fall back.

I looked back up and a green monster loomed up out of nowhere and filled my entire universe, bright red eyes flaring death! Terrified, I clamped the hand brake tight, stomped on the brake pedal and neatly locked both wheels. Rubber screeched, the cub fishtailed, tilted dangerously. I shot out my left leg, slammed my foot painfully against the pavement but got just enough leverage to right the cub and bring it to a shuddering stop.

Then my heart shuddered to a stop. The cub's front tire was squeezing the rear bumper of that huge city bus stopped for a red light. And if I had been going just a few kilometers an hour faster . . . .

"God damn you, John! You and that damned cub of yours almost got me killed in a traffic accident yesterday! Not to mention asphyxiated by all those exhaust fumes! God, it was even worse than that weekend train trip I took down to that famous beach town Shirahama. Even though it was Osaka sloburbia most of the way, at least I didn't have to worry about getting myself killed!"

When I'd finally finished yelling my head off at him, John just kept grinning smugly behind his desk in the large entrance lobby that also served as the office of our direct-method language school. “See, Dave? You were so busy staying alive you forgot all about your other frustrations and – Hey, you were wearing a helmet, weren't you?”

"Why? The mechanic said I don't need a helmet to drive a 50cc motorcycle here.”

"Not yet maybe. But just imagine what would have happened to your head if you had spilled when you were fishtailing and your head had hit the curb.”

I imagined it. And shivered. "Alright dammit, so I'll buy a helmet before I try to drive it again. But why the hell would I want to if all it can do is get me more frustrated than I am already, driving in all that noisy traffic and exhaust fumes and probably getting myself killed in the process?”

John nodded. “Good question. And you're right. Just putting around on city streets here is a drag.”

He swiveled his chair, studied the large schedule board on the back wall. “Hmm, you don't have any students for next Saturday and I haven't taken my 250 out for a good spin for too long a time. Tell you what, why don't I drive up from my place in Takatsuki and meet you at Shijo-Nishioji? I'll show you a Kyoto most Kyoto people haven't seen. But for God's sake buy that helmet first!”

Submitted: November 05, 2018

Romance romance japan gaijin travel-in-japan japan-1970s