Flat Tyres

So I'm back at my riverside café, this time quite by accident.

En route to the lad's playgroup this morning I managed to score a flat tyre on the scooter. For those of you who, like me until just now, are unfamiliar with the behaviour of a motorcycle at speed with a flat rear tyre, let me try to explain. The handlebars and front tyre remain pointed exactly where you want to go, while the entire rear end of the bike swishes about like the tail end of a fish. It's not dramatic – in fact, it took me a little while to determine that, yes, something was actually wrong. Braking, it feels like the rear wheel chooses one side or the other and tries to swing itself in that direction, out around your shoulder – ok, that bit is dramatic, especially when you have your three-year-old son standing in front of you as you ride. Fortunately I was able to stop safely, and ponder my next move.

I must have looked confused, as within seconds of stopping a kind passerby spoke something at me in Indonesian while pointing at my rear tyre (which is actually quite hard to see while mounted on your bike), confirming what I already suspected. He then pointed back up the road from where I'd come and again said some more Indonesian words at me. I figured he was probably telling me where the nearest repair shop was, though the most I got was a direction... So I turned the bike around and commenced pushing it, and the child, back up the road, all the while counting my blessings that Jogja is so lacking in hills.

Luckily, I was only about 30 metres from a tambal ban – a tyre repair shop – operated by an ageing man, whose beaming smile added much presence to his otherwise small stature. Less lucky, my inexperience with flat tyres on scooters meant I had travelled on a flat for too long and so ruined the inner tube beyond repair. Now, one might think a tyre repair shop would be a good place to, you know, buy a replacement inner tube but sadly you, like me, would be mistaking. They only repair tyres, and don't actually stock replacements.

All of this, of course, was determined using my rapidly advancing ability at understanding body language and vocal intonation, for my Bahasa Indonesian is still only slightly beyond “good morning”, “how are you?” and “I'd like a coffee with milk”. And I'm not even sure about the latter, as my kopi susu just arrived and looks remarkably like kopi hitam (black)! Hey, at least it's not sachet-ccino.

One more enthusiastic but ultimately fruitless attempt by Pak Smiley-Tyre-Repair-Man to communicate with me in words, and it was time to call for backup. My son regaled Family Tyre-Repair-Man with Indonesian nursery rhymes, demonstrating a command of the language way beyond his father, and filling the ten minutes it took for my wife to arrive.

A conversation in Indonesian ensued, presumably covering the terminal condition of the inner tube, the lack of a replacement in store, and the distance – a long way, apparently– to buy a new one. After my wife said something Indonesian, Bapak Smiley-Tambal-Ban then jumps on his clunky old bicycle and rides off east to purchase an inner tube for us, while his Istri (wife) explains that it might take an hour before we'll be back on the road (to my wife, in Indonesian). And so, leaving the scooter in the hands of the Smiley-Tambal-Ban family, my own little family of three climb on the wife's moped and ride off to playgroup. On the way, I realise that the Tan-Li café, where this very blog first began, was only 50 meters further along the road.

Taking this as a sign, we returned to the café after safely dropping the child at playgroup (incidentally, without tears on parents' departure, for the first time). Sadly, the café was tutup (closed) – so the wife returned home to study. And speaking of signs, I noticed another one hanging on the wall here that I somehow missed on previous visits. And it's one that only makes me like this place more:

“Free Beer... Tomorrow!”.

Not sure tomorrow will actually deliver promised free frosty alcoholic beverage, but there may well be a blog post about exploring along the river bank while I waited for the café to open.

(BTW: if you want to know how much it costs to have a tambal ban man check your inner tube, ride a long way on his pushbike to buy a replacement, return and put it on for you, mind your scooter for three hours - and smile about it - the answer is 40,000 rupiah, or a little under four Australian dollars. I told them keep the change from a 50k note, which nearly caused their already smiling faces to explode.)