Chapter Forty: Saving Up on One’s Own

“Tools? We have boards, screwdrivers, pliers—aren’t those enough?” My father, ever the bookworm, underestimated the complexity of a bicycle.

“Not even close. You need a spoke wrench, a hex socket wrench, a hex screwdriver, a flower wrench, steel chisels, an anvil, a hammer—that’s about right.” Hong Tao rattled off a list of tool names, leaving his father grimacing; he probably understood very few.

“We have to buy all that?” My father was ready to give up.

“No need to buy. My uncle has them. Just give me his number and I’ll borrow what I need.” Hong Tao began fibbing; his uncle was a bricklayer—he might have a trowel, but probably hadn’t seen most of these tools.

“Oh, that’s good, that’s good! I’ll look for his number!” The moment my father heard he wouldn’t have to ask for favors, he relaxed instantly.

“You’re really planning to assemble a bike with Xiao Tao? You two are just out to spite me! I won’t bother with you anymore!” My mother never believed Hong Tao’s claims, and she rose to go visit neighbors.

Did Hong Tao really know how to put together a bicycle? Yes. In his previous life, all sorts of sports and fitness had been popular—basketball, running, brisk walking, hiking, dancing… Hong Tao had chosen cycling, even joining a spontaneous group. They connected through QQ and other platforms, riding out of town whenever they had free time, combining play with exercise.

These bikes weren’t purchased whole, but assembled from parts. The performance was better, and the price more reasonable—a mountain bike that sold for five or six thousand at a shop could be put together for just over three thousand. Hong Tao, always eager to learn, mastered the craft over time. Soon, he wasn’t just assembling bikes for himself, but for others in his group—friends and strangers alike. His skills improved steadily; maybe he wasn’t quite as good as a professional technician, but he was certainly better than the roadside repairmen.

In truth, assembling a bicycle isn’t difficult. Most steps can be learned just by watching once; the only tricky part is lacing the wheels. In their unassembled state, the spokes and rims are separate; you have to connect them manually, crossing the left and right spokes in a particular order—not randomly. That’s not even the hardest part; the real challenge is truing the rim, known in local slang as “taking the dragon.”

Beijingers refer to a wheel wobbling side-to-side or bouncing up-and-down as “having a dragon”—meaning the wheel is no longer round, no longer perfectly vertical. Sometimes, they’ll even say about a person, “Let me take the dragon out of you!”—which isn’t a compliment, implying you need to be straightened out.

So what do you do if your wheel isn’t round? You use a spoke wrench shaped like a small bowl to adjust the tension of the spokes, pulling the rim into a circle. This is a skill—without know-how, you could fuss with it all day and only make it worse. Simply put, if you notice the wheel curving left, it means the right spokes are loose; tighten them half a turn, then loosen the corresponding left spokes half a turn.

You must pay attention here: when tightening, adjust two adjacent spokes; when loosening, only loosen the one opposite in the middle. After a few rounds of adjustment, the wheel is straightened by the spokes. Finally, spin the wheel and hold a screwdriver next to the rim as a gauge; as the wheel turns, the distance between the rim and the screwdriver tip should remain constant, neither scraping nor drifting—that’s when you know you’re done.

You may wonder: if it’s so simple, why didn’t others do it? In the 1970s, few people knew how. There was no internet, no advertising, few televisions or books—even if you wanted to learn, there was nowhere to go. Skills passed from master to apprentice, and the spread of knowledge was slow and limited. The tools were expensive and hard to come by. Most families wouldn’t take apart their bikes; at most, they’d patch inner tubes or oil the chain. Some could change the front, middle, or rear axle and true a wheel—those were the experts. Who would dismantle a whole bike just to play with wheel lacing?

The next day, Hong Tao went to the Revolutionary Committee and called his uncle’s work unit. Over the phone, he asked his uncle to go to the Shougang factory and have someone make several tools—those wrenches and chisels and such. They were simple items, easily made from scrap material. As for specifications, just test them on a bike—everything was standard: an 8-sized nut was an 8-sized nut, a 10-sized bolt was a 10-sized bolt, all universal.

“Xiao Tao, tell your uncle what you’re up to this time?” His uncle was nothing like his father—far more practical, with no lofty ideals. His goal was simply to keep the family well-fed and clothed. The earthen heating system Hong Tao had devised last time had been a real boon; whether Hong Tao knew it or not, his uncle had earned plenty on the side, and had since been promoted from team leader to section chief, thanks in no small part to the heating system. So he took Hong Tao’s suggestions seriously.

“Uncle, if I have brand-new bicycles—no need for ration tickets—140 yuan each, would you want one?” Hong Tao thought it over; it was pointless to hope his father would help him make money. He needed an adult partner, and his uncle was suitable—better to keep profits in the family.

“No ticket needed! Where did you get them?!” His uncle braked mid-sentence—Hong Tao knew what he meant, probably suspecting theft.

“I’m hardly strong enough to carry a bike! They come with proper receipts, so you don’t need to worry. I’m asking: 140 yuan each, do you want them? Men’s and women’s bikes, all the same price, 28-inch or 26-inch, no difference!” Hong Tao laid it all out, so his uncle wouldn’t fret.

“Ah! More than one? I want them all! How many are there, really no ticket needed?!” His uncle finally understood—his nephew had more than just one bike.

“Yes, when you bring me the tools, we’ll talk privately. I’ll sell to you for 140 each. You can resell them at whatever price you like; they come with receipts and can be registered. What do you think?” Hong Tao added fuel to the fire, making his uncle’s head spin.

“I want them all—Xiao Tao, save them for me! I’ll go to Shougang now and bring you the tools tonight!” His uncle was nearly ready to drop the phone and dash out.

“One more thing: don’t tell my dad. You know how he is—he looks down on anything profitable. If he finds out, I won’t be able to do business.”

“Ah, your father’s a good man, but so stubborn. Tonight, wait for me at your grandmother’s place, I’ll meet you there so he won’t overhear. I’m off to Shougang now, before the early shift ends. See you tonight!” His uncle hung up in a rush, turning straight toward the Transport Section. He couldn’t ride a bike to Shougang—he needed a company vehicle, even if it was just a cargo tricycle, it beat pedaling.

“Grandpa, do you think my plan will work?” After dinner, Hong Tao slipped into his grandfather’s room to discuss his scheme. If he could win the old man’s support, the matter would be settled.

“Why sell through your uncle? Grandpa can help you sell too! As long as it’s legit, there’s nothing to fear. There are plenty at my factory who need bikes.” The old man didn’t question the technical details, but was puzzled by Hong Tao’s sales strategy.

“Uncle is more shrewd, and now he’s a small boss—it’s safer that way. You’re the family head; you shouldn’t take risks. Once uncle paves the way, I’ll give you a few bikes to take to your workplace—let the bosses’ relatives have some. That’ll be good for you later.” Hong Tao was honest; he didn’t trust his grandfather’s straightforward temperament. He probably wasn’t favored by the leadership at work, and if anyone grabbed hold of some flaw, it could spell trouble. Uncle was more diplomatic; it was safer to have him test the waters.

“Your father’s asked me many times whether I think you’re too clever. I do think so, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not like your dad, always worried about wolves and tigers. So what if you’re clever? Does being foolish bring any advantage? Besides, you’re smarter than your father. Grandpa supports you making money and won’t tell your dad. But one thing—you mustn’t neglect your studies. Though I complain about college students, I still hope the family has one. Your uncle is hopeless; you’re my only hope, understand?”

Grandpa seemed carefree, but in truth, he understood everything—he just didn’t say it aloud.

“Don’t worry, once I start school, I’ll get perfect scores every term. If I miss even one point, I won’t shower for a month! I swear!” Hong Tao vowed fiercely. The whole family knew he loved wasting water; except for the winter months, he showered with cold water almost daily—he couldn’t sleep without it.

“Dad, you’re here too. I’ve got something to discuss with Xiao Tao.” Uncle hurried in from outside, a bit embarrassed to talk business with his young nephew in front of the old man.

“No need to be shy. Xiao Tao’s told me everything. I think it can be done—no stealing, cheating, or harming anyone. Nothing to be ashamed of. I’ll take a walk; you two talk.” Grandpa saw his son-in-law was nervous and knew he’d feel freer without him present. He slipped on his shoes and ambled out to digest his meal.

“All the tools are ready. I had the carpenter make a box to hold everything. Take a look, see if everything’s right.” Uncle brought in a small wooden chest from outside. The craftsmanship wasn’t refined, but it was sturdy, with iron sheets wrapped around the corners.

“Well, the materials are solid! That wrench alone weighs nearly two pounds!” Hong Tao opened the box. Inside lay a pile of tools, large and small, their grinding marks still fresh. They weren’t pretty, but the steel was substantial, and the hardness was excellent.