Finally went and got my motorbike seat repaired today. Some time ago, it developed a little tear in the vinyl, which proceeded to spread, as these things do. I had been putting black duct tape on the tear, but that's not really a very effective measure, as the duct tape gradually slides as you sit on it and leaves sticky patches where it used to be.
Falling easily into the American mindset, even after seven years here, I figured that one would just go to the Honda service center and ask for a new seat. I was getting the bike serviced anyway today.
"New seat?" the man said. "We don't have new seats. And anyway, you don't buy a new seat. You buy a new skin."
Well, I could use a new skin, to be honest. Mine keeps developing these dry, itchy spots. Very annoying. But of course, he wasn't talking about my skin. He was talking about a skin for the seat.
"Oh, I see. Okay. Can I get it here?"
"No, no. You go to the little shop. Tukang sadel, tahu kan?"
"Uhh … no."
So he told me where to find the tukang sadel--the seat repair guy--and off I went.
After some searching--he had told me to look in a general area--I found the little roadside warung, just a hole in the wall, really, along with the tukang.
So, what you buy is a sheet of vinyl--choosing a color, plain or with design--and this is applied to the seat you already have. The man detaches the seat from your bike, then cuts all the stitching on the inside and removes the old cover (or 'skin'). He then places the new vinyl over the now naked seat, and carefully positions and stretches and staples, over and over, all the way around. He does this with amazing speed and skill, being careful there are no wrinkles or loose ends. He then cuts off the excess vinyl with a large pair of scissors and reattaches the seat to your bike. The whole thing takes about 15 minutes and costs about 8 bucks.
This is the way all things work here. It is much like the America of my childhood. All the little shops with their independent specialists--the neighborhood laundry, the fabric shop, the seamstress, the dressmaker, the corner drug store, the soda fountain, the family owned carwash and the car repair shop, the little café, the neighborhood grocer, the little pastry shop and the candy shop, the curbside fruit seller and the travelling fresh vegetable man, the bakso seller doing his rounds in the evening with his little pushcart, the bubur cart, the fried rice cart. And here comes the man selling DVDs from table to table in the neighborhood warung. There is no Cosco in Bali, no Walmart, no one-stop-shopping-center.
And you don't just throw things away, as a rule, and get a new one. You fix the one you already have.
Why in the world did I want to get a new seat when I could just get a new skin instead?
Now if only I could find a new skin tukang for human skins!
Falling easily into the American mindset, even after seven years here, I figured that one would just go to the Honda service center and ask for a new seat. I was getting the bike serviced anyway today.
"New seat?" the man said. "We don't have new seats. And anyway, you don't buy a new seat. You buy a new skin."
Well, I could use a new skin, to be honest. Mine keeps developing these dry, itchy spots. Very annoying. But of course, he wasn't talking about my skin. He was talking about a skin for the seat.
"Oh, I see. Okay. Can I get it here?"
"No, no. You go to the little shop. Tukang sadel, tahu kan?"
"Uhh … no."
So he told me where to find the tukang sadel--the seat repair guy--and off I went.
After some searching--he had told me to look in a general area--I found the little roadside warung, just a hole in the wall, really, along with the tukang.
So, what you buy is a sheet of vinyl--choosing a color, plain or with design--and this is applied to the seat you already have. The man detaches the seat from your bike, then cuts all the stitching on the inside and removes the old cover (or 'skin'). He then places the new vinyl over the now naked seat, and carefully positions and stretches and staples, over and over, all the way around. He does this with amazing speed and skill, being careful there are no wrinkles or loose ends. He then cuts off the excess vinyl with a large pair of scissors and reattaches the seat to your bike. The whole thing takes about 15 minutes and costs about 8 bucks.
This is the way all things work here. It is much like the America of my childhood. All the little shops with their independent specialists--the neighborhood laundry, the fabric shop, the seamstress, the dressmaker, the corner drug store, the soda fountain, the family owned carwash and the car repair shop, the little café, the neighborhood grocer, the little pastry shop and the candy shop, the curbside fruit seller and the travelling fresh vegetable man, the bakso seller doing his rounds in the evening with his little pushcart, the bubur cart, the fried rice cart. And here comes the man selling DVDs from table to table in the neighborhood warung. There is no Cosco in Bali, no Walmart, no one-stop-shopping-center.
And you don't just throw things away, as a rule, and get a new one. You fix the one you already have.
Why in the world did I want to get a new seat when I could just get a new skin instead?
Now if only I could find a new skin tukang for human skins!
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