A short story about the Copenhagen City Public Bicycles

Travelers all over Europe clued me in on a secret about Copenhagen. This secret, not really a secret at all, is the City Public Bicycles (CPB). Copenhagen is a beautiful old and large city, concentrated yet spread out across hundreds of streets and alleys organized in their own unique way. One can easily walk around town, which I have done for most of my European travels or you can more easily bike. I suppose public transportation is an option as well, but most budget conscience travelers avoid them for sake of saving a few kroner that we can now spend on a beer in our favorite cafe.

At one time or another every traveler has secretly feared looking like a tourist. You know the one I'm talking about. The guy with 3 camera's around his neck, juggling maps and Lonely Planet guide books, wearing shorts, tank top and sandals in San Francisco during the Summer, walking aimlessly around Fisherman's Wharf. This is exactly how I perceive myself in Copenhagen riding around on a CPB. Perhaps too vain that I choose to walk rather than ride, but so it is. I walk around town my feet pounding uneven cobblestones for hours. Eventually I succumb to the pain in my feet and legs, and sought out a merchant renting bicycles for the day.

With determination I walk up and down streets and alleys, funny I seemed to recall them everywhere when I was happy on foot. Now I can't find any. After some time I eventually came upon a merchant’s bicycle shop. I inquire inside this dark dank cellar filled with air held two days. An impatient old man greets me at the door. His prices too steep for me and he closes at 17:30. I’ll walk again, but this time in search of a CPB. My problems will be solved; free and never closes.

You see CPB are no more than bicycle racks holding bicycles by locks. You insert a 20 Kr coin into the generic lock’s head and it releases the lock. When the bicycle is returned replacing the lock in it’s head releases the coin. There is no cost only a 20 Kr promise that you will return the bicycle. If you do not return your bicycle someone surely will to collect your 20 Kr. The expense of the bicycles and repairs is paid by company’s advertisement ads around the bicycle’s wheels and frame. It is a wonderful system.

Everyone is happy except for the CPBs. Tourists ride the bicycles hard because it makes no difference to them. "They’re only rentals so who cares?" is their attitude. Consider yourself lucky to find a real gem. Most are banged and bruised if working at all, still even these are rare. I’ve seen broken seats and no seats, flat tires and/or bent rims. It beats walking my feet and legs convince me. It’s much faster and less tiresome their sales pitch goes on. "I will enter the game," I say to myself.

Copenhagen CPB is the name of the game and the goal is this. To get from A to B, but first you must find a CPB to carry you there. We play like this... major street are my best bet, I’ll find most CPB racks there, but it’s not strange to see one down a side alley. Always on the look out, my target is the colorful wheel covers displaying logos on their side. They add character, in a flashy sort of way, to the city’s old gray buildings and their seedy charm. My heart races when I see one standing all alone. Look right now left, good no one else is hunting for my CPB. It’s me against you my friends and fellow players in the game.

I feel lucky today that this might be the one. I know this one could be broken, my odds are 4 in 10. Still I know this one is the "one." I approach it with a wishful eye as I stare at the chain, I see I’m halfway there. Tires and rims look good then I give them a squeeze. All that remains is the seat and it feels firm. My CPB has passed inspection, now it’s time for a test ride to determine it’s seaworthiness; for if this bicycle passes, it will sail me across Copenhagen this fine summer’s day.

First I must make my promise to the CPB. I promise to respect my bicycle while in my possession and return it unharmed to another CPB rack when I am through. That’s the deal I knowing seal when I insert the coin into the lock’s head. My sigh is of relief and joy releasing inside. Pressing down on the pedal all systems are "GO". Forces pull on the chain engaging it’s single gear, not fancy my CPB. The wheels begin to move giving us flight. Four strokes are all it takes. Confidently knowing that this bicycle is the "one" I rest my tired body on it’s seat. Disbelief is what I feel. The seat is broken and can not hold my weight. My game has just begun.

Now I must ride my bicycle in search of another. Still this is better than walking my feet and legs tell me. Again I travel up and down streets and alleys I work to find the "one." The search is much faster now. I feel cool breezes blowing on my face. I ride slowly through Kobagergade and turn down Stroget. Along the way taking notice of the people sitting outside cafes merrily eating Danish pastries, drinking coffee and chatting. Artists prepare to paint or perform their own creations. Serious looking men stare intently on their game of chess planning their strategy of attack and defense. Delightful this day in Copenhagen, but my body aches in new and different ways from the broken seat. I must continue to search the streets some more.

Late morning the sun brightly shines, there’s more hunters out now and my odds decrease with every passing moment. I head towards Rosenborg Have to rest for a bit. The lawns are filled with sunbathers basking in the golden rays. I rest my bicycle and pull out a blanked I lifted on my flight over. Pulling and stretching the cloth tightly on the grass. My face expresses the feelings inside as the sun takes notice and basks my body as well. Eyes focusing on the beautiful women lying around and my teeth now express the feelings inside. "What a wonderful city this is," I say to myself. I still need to get to B, so I rest for a while longer then continue my search.

From where the sun stands it appears to be late in the fourth inning. Plenty of time left to win this game. My search takes me pass vacant CPB rack after another. Finally I see a blue one lying on the grown still chained to the rack. Wearing skeptical eyes I begin my inspection. Right away I see the chain isn’t attached to the rear cog, but this I can fix. A closer look reveals this bicycle is out of the game, a placebo. Frustrated not because I didn’t find the one, but because a fellow player has not played by the rules. The rules are unwritten, but still we all knowingly play by them. He has committed a foul in an arena with no umpires to call him "OUT". So the game continues but first a visit to Christiania.

I’ll now be forced to make a decision about my bicycle when I arrive. The right thing to do is return my bicycle to a CPB rack when I am not with it. Sometimes the risk of loosing the bicycle is so great that I would compromise my own ethics and commit a foul by parking my bicycle somewhere other than a CPB rack and hope no one takes it. The decision doesn’t become difficult until I arrive at my destination and discover an empty CPB rack. When this happens the chance of getting my bicycle back if I leave it are slim to none. Another hunter without a bicycle will surely take mine. There are also hunters, like me, that are looking to trade up. I reach the CPB rack and to my surprise I see four bicycles attached. "Good, I don’t have to commit a foul," I think to myself. I like to play by the rules, but today I will not lose. I retrieve my 20 Kr coin and consciously place it in my front pocket. All good players keep at least one 20 Kr coin with them at all time. Nothing is worse than finding a CPB realizing you have no coin, only to return later to find your bicycle gone. This will not happen to me.

Pushers Row is bustling midday. Visitors and locals are happy for the fine selection, but happier still for the weather this day brings. I go over to Woodstock for a beer and a smoke. The dirt path leading the way reminds me of the desert as dust like sand gently blows on my feet. Temperatures seem to have risen and sweat begins to accumulate on my forehead. I feel cool smoke filled air lingering inside. Patrons take notice as I enter the room then slowly turn away continuing with their business. I don’t know what they are saying, but the conversations sound light, like something you might hear in a kiosk. Mostly people stay to themselves. I take care of my business enjoying a beer. I fear if I wait too long my bicycle along with the others may disappear.

When I return it pleases me to see four bicycles remain. I didn’t take notice of the others before, but I can see that my bicycle is missing. I hope to find a better replacement and maybe my search will end here. I quickly scan the CPB rack for the most promising one. Examining one after another I find every bicycle is broken. I’ve lost my bicycle and now I have none. "Back to square one," my feet and legs gripe. After a moment I build another strategy. I decide to wait for another like me. One that will carelessly leave their bicycle as I did mine.

I can’t look obvious so I stake out around the corner. After several minutes my plan comes to pass. Another player, perhaps as new to the game as I, leaves his bicycle where I had left mine. Coast is clear and I make my move. "My plan is brilliant," I knowingly think. This bicycle is splendid. The seats holds my weight, the tires and rims error free and the chain revolves around the cranks smoothly as I cruise away from the scene.

The smile I wear is of satisfaction; I have played the game and won.

Good luck.

Tyson Graham

San Francisco, California

19/6/99