Anyone who is passionate about bicycles will attest to the fact that they become an emotional part of your life. Incredible memories, such as tackling a mountain peak or simply getting drenched in another rain storm, make the experiences as diverse as ever. So when I woke up one morning to find out my race bike had been stolen from my garage, I was shell shocked.
If there has been one thing I have learned over the last 6 years living in South East Asia, there is always a solution to a problem. How could I get my bike back in a small little Vietnamese town? You contact the local bike shop, that’s how. Being the best customer of a small little shop in a dodgy alleyway, I was hoping the owner would be of some assistance. While his daughter translated the matter, I asked him to contact anyone who might know more about my bike. He told me he’d look into it.
My next stop was the police station, knowing very well it was a total waste of time. The police in South East Asia don’t have a particularly good reputation when it comes to competence. Then again, could you blame them for their lack of motivation? Looking at their salary, most people would be shocked or wouldn’t bother getting out of bed. My Vietnamese colleagues were of great help, but the police officer didn’t impress me very much. He was literate, but that was about it.
The emotional blow started to hit me. Months of training and a major race in a fortnight, the thought of needing a bike and the possible financial implications made me feel depressed. A new race bike is a major investment which I just didn’t want to face.
The next morning, I received a phone call from the bike shop owner’s daughter. Good news! Her brother had been able to make contacts with the thieves. Negotiations were in the process of being done. The first offer to retrieve the bike was US$ 1,000. Luckily the brother came up with an ingenious lie, namely I was his brother-in-law. Couldn’t they give a better price? They dropped their demands and ultimately, I was able to buy my own bike back for US$ 400.
At first, I felt violated. I felt I had been attacked to the core of who I am. Afterwards though, except for the US$ 400 I lost, I must admit this was a great story. Why didn’t the son turn in the burglars? Organized crime is run by the local mafia and any form of provocation could lead to serious repercussions. The bike shop was told not to involve the police. Politics in Vietnam can be complex, and sometimes simplicity is the best answer. I have my bike back, and that’s what counts.
If there has been one thing I have learned over the last 6 years living in South East Asia, there is always a solution to a problem. How could I get my bike back in a small little Vietnamese town? You contact the local bike shop, that’s how. Being the best customer of a small little shop in a dodgy alleyway, I was hoping the owner would be of some assistance. While his daughter translated the matter, I asked him to contact anyone who might know more about my bike. He told me he’d look into it.
My next stop was the police station, knowing very well it was a total waste of time. The police in South East Asia don’t have a particularly good reputation when it comes to competence. Then again, could you blame them for their lack of motivation? Looking at their salary, most people would be shocked or wouldn’t bother getting out of bed. My Vietnamese colleagues were of great help, but the police officer didn’t impress me very much. He was literate, but that was about it.
The emotional blow started to hit me. Months of training and a major race in a fortnight, the thought of needing a bike and the possible financial implications made me feel depressed. A new race bike is a major investment which I just didn’t want to face.
The next morning, I received a phone call from the bike shop owner’s daughter. Good news! Her brother had been able to make contacts with the thieves. Negotiations were in the process of being done. The first offer to retrieve the bike was US$ 1,000. Luckily the brother came up with an ingenious lie, namely I was his brother-in-law. Couldn’t they give a better price? They dropped their demands and ultimately, I was able to buy my own bike back for US$ 400.
At first, I felt violated. I felt I had been attacked to the core of who I am. Afterwards though, except for the US$ 400 I lost, I must admit this was a great story. Why didn’t the son turn in the burglars? Organized crime is run by the local mafia and any form of provocation could lead to serious repercussions. The bike shop was told not to involve the police. Politics in Vietnam can be complex, and sometimes simplicity is the best answer. I have my bike back, and that’s what counts.
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