共享單車?yán)顺毕碌男捃嚁?消亡的城市記憶
When I moved to Beijing from London two years ago, I was pleasantly surprised to find that cycling to work became much easier. I often had the run of this notoriously congested city’s wide, separated bike lanes.
兩年前從倫敦搬到北京時，我驚喜地發(fā)現(xiàn)，在這里騎車上班要容易得多。這個交通擁堵得出名的城市修建了寬闊的自行車道，使我經(jīng)常如入無人之境。
Last spring, however, I noticed I was suddenly sharing the bike lane with hordes of wobbly beginners. These newcomers had been tempted on to the roads by a clutch of start-ups whose shared bikes can be unlocked using a smartphone — and parked anywhere.
然而，去年春天我注意到，我突然要與許多搖搖晃晃的初學(xué)騎行者共享自行車道。吸引這些初學(xué)者騎車上路的是一大批初創(chuàng)公司，它們推出的共享單車可以用智能手機(jī)開鎖——而且可以隨處停放。
Over the past two years, Ofo and Mobike, the industry leaders, have created 19 million new bicycles, becoming one of China’s most visible tech exports. Their bikes can be seen on the streets of London, Paris and more than 200 other cities around the world. The convenience they offer has brought millions in China on to two wheels for the first time. But they have not been welcomed by everyone.
過去兩年里，作為行業(yè)領(lǐng)頭羊的ofo和摩拜(Mobike)投放了1900萬輛新自行車，使自行車成為中國最引人注目的科技出口產(chǎn)品之一。它們的自行車在倫敦、巴黎和世界各地另外200多個城市的街頭都可看到。共享單車給人們帶來便利，在中國，數(shù)以百萬計的人首次蹬上了這種兩個輪子的交通工具。然而也不是人人都?xì)g迎。
Outside China Agricultural University, I met a bike repairman named Luo. Like many others in his line of work, he had moved from the countryside to the city in the 1990s as reforms opened up a booming informal economy, setting up his own repair business out of a silver tuk-tuk. Luo told me that of nine repairmen on campus two years ago, only he remained. He had lost four-fifths of his business, he said, because of bike sharing.
在中國農(nóng)業(yè)大學(xué)(分?jǐn)?shù)線,專業(yè)設(shè)置)外面，我遇到了一位修自行車的師傅，姓羅(音譯)。跟許多同行一樣，他在上世紀(jì)90年代——當(dāng)時，改革使“非正式”的經(jīng)濟(jì)產(chǎn)業(yè)煥發(fā)出勃勃生機(jī)——從農(nóng)村來到城市，用一輛銀灰色的三輪車干起了修車這個行當(dāng)。羅師傅告訴我，兩年前在農(nóng)大這一帶有九個修自行車的，現(xiàn)在只剩下他了。他說，由于受到共享單車的影響，他如今接的活大概只有以前的五分之一了。
The same thing is happening in China’s southern tech metropolis of Shenzhen. A friend’s relative, Kuang, had run a bike-repair stall there for 21 years, but saw his business dry up last year.
在中國南方科技大都市深圳，同樣的故事也在上演著。一位朋友的親戚，匡(音譯)師傅，在那里經(jīng)營著一個自行車修理鋪，已經(jīng)有21年了，但是去年到他那里修車的人已經(jīng)快絕跡了。
Why not join the bike-sharing platforms, who were recruiting mechanics? After all, the advertised pay for Mobike, about Rmb4,000 (?456) a month, is less than the pair earned before the advent of bike sharing — but more than they were earning last year. Yet for them, money was not the main concern.
何不干脆加入共享單車平臺?這些平臺都在招維修工，摩拜招工廣告上開出的工資是一個月4000元人民幣左右(約456美元)，這比共享單車出現(xiàn)前兩位師傅的收入要少，但比他們?nèi)?/p>
“I want freedom,” Kuang told me over the phone, “I’ve been my own boss for so long, I can’t get used to working for someone else.” He told me he had already rejected an offer from Mobike.
“我要的是自由，”匡師傅在電話里告訴我，“我自己干了這么多年了，不習(xí)慣給別人干活。”他跟我說，摩拜想招他，他已經(jīng)拒絕了。
Their concerns about losing flexibility seem well founded. I spoke to an Ofo worker who told me he worked from 7am to 6pm, with two hours for lunch. He pointed me towards a repair depot. On the way, I encountered a grisly trail of bike parts, with dismembered yellow cycles on either side.
他們擔(dān)心失去工作靈活性看來是非常有道理的。我和一位ofo的工作人員聊了聊，他告訴我，他從早上7點(diǎn)上班，下午6點(diǎn)下班，中午有兩個小時的午飯休息時間。他為我指點(diǎn)了去一個維修點(diǎn)的路。一路上，我目睹了到處都是自行車零部件的可怕景象，解體的黃色自行車堆放在道路兩邊。
Kuang and Luo are, in some ways, lucky. Part of the first wave of informal business owners in China, they made it in the city and now have university-educated children to support them. This means they have a choice as to whether to work or not. Still, if they decide to pack up their repair kits, a little piece of Chinese city life will go with them.
從某些方面來說，匡師傅和羅師傅是幸運(yùn)的。作為中國非正式產(chǎn)業(yè)中的第一批經(jīng)營者，他們在城里站住了腳，往后也有上過大學(xué)的子女可以依靠。這意味著他們可以選擇工作或不工作。話雖如此，如果這些修車師傅決定收拾起他們的工具，不干了，那么中國城市生活中的一小幅場景也將隨著他們消逝。
