Test Driving the Rickshaw

On the afternoon of December 30^th we checked in at the Rickshaw Run HQ (headquarters), which was about an acre of land in the Fort Kochi area where our “glorified lawnmowers” were waiting. We first had to sign a waiver—basically saying we were idiots for undertaking such a foolish endeavor and that we were one bad turn from serious injury. We also changed our name to the Cleveland Steamers (more on that later) and got the essentials: an old gas can and a basic tool bag. Once we got the formalities out of the way it was time to pick our rick.

This warning, which was on the waiver, was also emailed to us on the 22nd of December, subject line This really is very dangerous: "Driving across long distances on difficult terrain in a rickshaw is an extremely dangerous thing to do, which can result in severe injury and even death."

The rickshaws, 80 in total, were lined up along the wall. My first thought was: wow, most of these look cool…what’s up with the shitty plain white ones though? As it turns out we were to get one of those vanilla ricks. Most teams put in a design when they signed up, and the organizers hired locals to paint them. But of course us lazy bums had nothing. Well, Sam requested some sort of banana van theme, but it was apparently too difficult to pull off.

So we were left to pick out a rickshaw from the misfits. After a quick inspection we settled on one that looked the least beat up, collected the key, and went for a test run.

We settled on this babe, the best of the left behind plain white ones

Ours came with the Hindu elephant god Ganesh

It had some bruises even
before we drove it

Wow, I didn’t realize this thing would be so damn hard to drive! It probably had to do with the fact that I have never owned a manual drive car before, but even Mike, who drives stick, needed practice to get the hang of it. Throw in the clusterfu** that is Indian roads and this would be a real challenge. After trying it out driving circles on the HQ lot and listening to a mechanic talk, I felt better—far from confident, but at least not scared shitless.

By that point word had spread via the Whatsapp Rickshaw Run group about the 10 pm alcohol cutoff. A Runner posted the location of a state liquor store a short drive from the main tourist area, so we decided that it was time to test ourselves on the real road. Mike made the 10 minute drive over to the shop, where we got two bottles. I agreed to give it a go on the way back, and within 10 seconds of sitting at the wheel…

Bam! I was driving out of our parking space, and I hit the bicycle sitting in front of us. The wheels in the back of the rickshaw jut out further than the front, so I learned the hard way that you need to give it a wide turn. It wasn’t much of a collision—I just nudged the empty bike forward a couple feet—so I said screw it, just keep going. Besides, if I stopped I’d likely stall out. On the way back I did stall out, in the middle of a busy road. Luckily nothing happened, and I got it going again, and when the HQ entrance was in sight I breathed a sigh of relief.

My trial wasn’t quite over. Just before we pulled into HQ a motorbike swerved in front of the rick and motioned for us to stop. Then a car pulled up behind, boxing us in. Apparently the bicycle hit a parked car and dented the bumper, and the driver had chased us down to ask for money. At first I panicked, thinking great, this is payday for them—they’ll extort a huge sum off the foreigners! But all they asked for was 500 Rupees (less than 10 dollars), so I was happy to pay and be done with it. Ordeal finally over, I parked our rick inside the lot and we called it a day.

Our rickshaws had a hand lever starter to the left of
the driver seat, a foot break to the right, and a
clutch on the left handle of the steering wheel.

That afternoon Pat and Tim also arrived, fresh off an all-night bender during their layover in Abu Dhabi. Fortunately they had a long flight to catch some shut eye. Unfortunately they also were sans hotel reservation, and ours was full, although they did manage to book one night at a place across the street.

The Rickshaw Run HQ, where we signed up and test drove

They also checked in at HQ, picked out a white rick—they are lazy bastards too—and took their new baby for a spin. I sat in the back seat with Pat, while Tim gave it a whirl around the old town. After Tim smoked a speed bump the fuel line came undone; a group of locals shouted loud enough at us so that we stopped and noticed the leak. Pat reconnected the line to the engine and saved the rest of the fuel. I’m not Catholic, but when we made it back in one piece I felt like doing my own hail mary.

That evening we ended up at the same restaurant where Mike, Sam, and I ate dinner the night before. After the early close we congregated in their hotel room for mixed drinks; Mike and I walked for 20 minutes looking for ice, to no avail, and we had to pay someone an extra 10 Rupees to break our 2000 note when we bought coke. The city basically shut down by 11 pm, so there wasn’t anything to do aside from drink in our room and then go to bed.

The following morning, Saturday, December 31^st, we had to check out of our hotel because the place was completely booked. Pat and Tim also checked out of their hotel—not because it was full—but because Tim woke up with bug bites all over his face. He was convinced the room was infested with bed bugs and apparently made a scene at the front desk before storming out. His face did look alarming, but later we learned that their bathroom was swarming with mosquitoes. Oh, and he feel asleep on the toilet that night for three hours.

This is as good a time as ever to try and explain the character that is Tim. As I mentioned previously, two of Pat’s friends bailed on the trip and he got Tim to join rather last minute. In Pat’s words, he didn’t known Tim that well before coming to India, and the only thing they had in common was their love of partying. That seems like a recipe for disaster. In the end they made it work, but the trip certainly had its ups and downs.

Tim, who traces his roots to Appalachian Virginia, is a self-described redneck. What sets him apart is that his grandfather was the founder of a major electronics outlet (I won’t name names here), and Tim now controls a substantial trust fund. In other words, the fam is loaded. After 7 years and three (or is it four) schools he’s one credit away from his undergraduate degree, and his life goal seems to be to work at a bar on a small Caribbean island where his family vacations. Hey, that’s better than working in a cubicle for 30 years, so I shouldn’t judge. Later on during our adventure you’ll hear a few crazy stories about Tim; he was certainly entertaining during our trip.

So, back to our story…

We had hired a local and by Saturday our paint job was also done. Here are the finished products:

The Cleveland Steamer; Mike is from Cleveland, and we
didn't have many great ideas, so the Steamers it is
(warning: be careful if you look it up online)

Pat and Tim's John Deere-themed rick

As we were checking out of the hotel and asking for advice on places to stay, a local overheard us and mentioned his friend had an apartment for short-term rent. I went to check it out, and although it was a couple kms outside the central fort area, it was fine for our last two nights in Kochi--definitely better than lugging our stuff around for an hour in search of vacancies. They probably jacked up the price too, but even so, split between 5 people it worked out to less than $14 per person per night.

Sorting out the apartment and transporting our luggage took awhile, and that afternoon we were all content completing a few test laps around the HQ parking lot. Our city driving could wait for the real thing. Plus we also had a New Year’s Eve party to attend!