Cyclists around the world are obsessed with the beautifully appointed bicycles from Blue Lug in Tokyo. As a bike nerd myself, and with a trip to Japan on my calendar, I had to pay a visit.
MY SUNDAY BIKE group has a couple little factions in it, but the longer I spend with them, the more their bike-nerd affiliations become apparent. There's the people sporting the caps and vests of the bike shop in Seattle we ride out of, the people who wear spandex and the people who don't, but the one group it took the longest to figure out were the Tokyo bike shop devotees.
Occasionally, someone on our ride would return from a trip to Japan and distribute Blue Lug stickers, little triangular reflectors, or have even taken orders for a T-shirt or sweater for a friend. When I asked my mechanic buddy Steve Gadingan about this shop, Blue Lug, he said, “They're like the kids with all the toys, but they know what to do with them.”
A bike-manufacturer acquaintance once referred to them as “maybe the best bike shop in the world,” and with a trip to Tokyo in my calendar, I knew where I'd head upon landing.
What was even more exciting to see was Tokyo cycling culture. I'd seen some dreamy NHK videos of Japanese countryside rides and even knew a friend or two who'd taken bike tours there, but I hadn't really contemplated the city's cycling scene until I got off the train from the airport in my neighborhood. Bikes were everywhere. Little bikes, folding bikes, ugly bikes, seas of parked bikes in giant bike lots near train stops and on the ground floors of apartment buildings. Riders floated in lazy circles waiting for a train to pass through an intersection. Cars accommodated them on busy streets without honking. With a minimum of chaos, they glided along busy sidewalks. In quiet residential pockets, they floated along without a sound.
