*Written by Fidgit*

Our bikes were as beat up as we were rolling in to Aguascalientes.

Neon had broken her shifter when she flipped into a highway. My tires were out of true, I was getting weekly pinch flats, and my brakes weren’t functioning. We’d googled a bike store, called ahead, confirmed they had a shop, and rode over. They had no shop and were largely unhelpful except in pointing us in the general direction of another shop. The typical goose-chase of accomplishing basic tasks in Latin America.

We were weary, worried, and stressed. Hungry but too preoccupied to feel it or do much about it in timely manners. Why is it always the most fundamental aspects of care which fall away first when under stress? Either way, we were stripped to our barest in decision making, so, while on our way to the intended shop, when Neon pointed out a blue awning advertising car audio shop over an open face shop surrounded by bikes, we pulled over and tipped off our bikes.

As with most shops, a number of men were lounging about and all reacted to our arrival with curiosity. Except one fellow at work on something in the back of the shop. I began to explain our situation to the fellow who greeted us: that I needed to rig up a tubeless set-up, Neon needed a new shifter, and that we had to put our bikes into storage and return to the US to wait out the pandemic and return when global health and seasons were again favorable. The old man I was speaking to nodded along but I could tell it was the man at the back of the shop who mattered and he was listening. Eventually he wiped his hands on a rag and turned to us.

Now, let me take a moment aside to tell you about two things:
power dynamics in shop situations, and hand shaking.

First of all, often when you enter a shop, the first person to address you is rarely the person in charge. You can be standing 3 feet away from the person who clearly runs the place but you keep talking to the employee, who, after you ask a question, turns to the boss, the boss tells them the answer, then they repeat it to you. As ludicrous as this probably sounds to most Americans, it is a serious leap and can be interpreted as aggressive to address the boss directly and should only be done if it is a situation where you REALLY need to cut through the red tape, or if the boss addresses you first.

Second, regarding hand shakes: Many times throughout the years, when meeting laborers, if you offer a handshake, they offer their wrist. You don’t shake dirty hands. Since starting biking and wearing gloves, we’ve had people eye them and then shake our wrists instead. Much like offering your left hand in the Middle East is rude, so here it is rude to proffer a dirty hand or glove.

The man from the back of the shop stepped forward and the other men stepped aside. On top of the dynamics explained above, in this situation, considering the health risk circumstances involved, I had to act on the fly. So I awkwardly offered the outside of my elbow. Don’t ask me why. Jorche just smiled and reciprocated.

Jorche was short and sturdy, like the trunk of the Elephant Trees bursera microphylla we’d seen along the Baja Divide. Like them, he seemed a rare species which knew how to to hold resilience in store. I explained as best I could what was wrong with each bike and he watched with intelligent eyes then moved into action. Seeming to speak and understand more with the bikes. It became immediately clear he spoke their language. Just watching him move them, the proficiency of his action, it was clear this man knew what he was about. He removed the tire from the rim without levers and just as easily put it back on again, using only his hands. He did in a matter of seconds what took me 15 minutes to do.
I was in awe.

There is something stirring in witnessing someone do what they are good at. As Neon has said many times on this journey, seeing someone do something they are passionate about is inspiring. The same goes for this level of competency.

It isn’t just the person, something emanates from them. It feels like a crackle on your skin, like static electricity between your ears. Some sort of energy. I watched it at play in the shop. As Jorche got to work, the other men, who had been lounging about suddenly found projects they needed to do. It is infectious, you see.
The good kind of infectious.

I watched closely as he adjusted the brakes.  He SPOKE with my spokes. Tweaking, adjusting. Then pulled out a mallet. He looked up and saw my expression of concern and just chuckled. One of his accolades assured me,
“Don’t worry, he is an artist.”
He began competently and decidedly bending my rim back into shape. He issued monosyllabic orders  and the others were quick and happy to comply. The magic of humanity sprang into being in that dusty little roadside shop. And it all came off this one man.

When he put my wheel on the rack and watched it spin, he was considering nothing else. Neon pointed out that trueing a wheel is the sign of a true bike mechanic master. I was in love with his competence and proficiency.
He expertly flipped the bike over and proffered it to me.
I teased him, “so are you a car stereo repairman or a bike mechanic?”
He smiled and said the old adage, “de todo un poco.”

I pedaled down the street and back up and nearly flipped off my bike now that I had brakes which actually worked. I soared back in gleefully. He seemed pleased with my joy and we bumped elbows again.

Before I could say anything he had taken 20 pesos and hurried over to the neighboring llanteria and returned with zip ties which he used to secure Neon’s broken shifter in place. Then he addressed us, “the problems aren’t fixed but at least now they will work.” He spoke as much with his body language, shrugs and hands, as with his words.

I reiterated that I hoped to convert my bike to a ghetto tubeless set up and he said he knew how to do that and listed what he would need to accomplish it. But since we were leaving our bikes for likely 8 months he recommended we not do it until we get back as the liquid inside the tires would dry out.

I looked at Neon and then turned back to him, “Then we’ll bring the parts you need back from the US and see you again in 8 months.”
He gave a single nod.
“How much do I owe you?” I asked.
“Nothing. Just come back when you are ready to ride again and we’ll get you set up.”

I had to insist and deem the price of his services myself.
I am concerned for people like Jorche. Small business owners What may be coming their way. What loss of life and resources they may see in the coming months.

As a general rule, I try to follow social customs and don’t tip when we are outside of the tourist bubbles but over the past days, as the value of the peso plummets, as whispers of a virus and economic collapse begin to circulate. As we make plans to retreat and find safe places to hole up, I give thanks for having that option, these people, these reserves. I know many people do not have that. And so I pay forward what I can. Leaving offerings in the churches, tips on the restaurant tables. And I speak blessings under my breath. I will be back next winter to check on them and then to pedal on.