happy trishaw ride

July 2, 2010 § 3 Comments

A trishaw went by as I waited for the pedestrian lights to turn. The caucasian couple taking the $25 ride were picture-perfect tourists:  sunglasses, hats and a big camera hanging around the neck. Next to them pedaled the skinny trishaw uncle, wrinkly face tanned beneath the brim of his straw hat.

Red man changed to green man, and I started to cross. The trishaw, now further away, had slowed to a stop as it approached a slope. The caucasian man hopped out while the uncle shook his head in feeble protest. The lady in the trishaw just laughed and watched.

Her husband moved a step back to stand behind the trishaw, then started to jog. He pushed the trishaw along as he went, helping the old uncle ferry his one remaining passenger up the slope.

The last I saw, the old trishaw uncle was pedaling hard and huffing, but with the biggest smile on his face.

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