Not a single taxi in sight. Never mind. Call out San Lun Ch'e and one or more pedicabs will come pedaling up, ready to take you where you want to go. The pedicab is a big tricycle-driver in front to pedal, passenger comfortably ensconced on a seat just behind. Seats are wide enough for two people, and there is a platform for feet and packages. The vehicle has two other advantages: it is not too wide to thread the narrowest lane and fares are about half those charged by Taiwan's metered taxis.
For a 20 to 30-minute ride, NT$10 (US$0.25) is about right. For a short journey of a few blocks, NT$4 or 5 is sufficient. A taxi would cost from NT$6 to 10, although the minimum taxi fare may soon be cut to NT$4. Generally, the longer the ride, the greater the economy. Two can ride as cheaply as one, but for three or four, take a taxi. The pedicab accommodates only two—or two and a child in arms or on lap.
Foreigners must expect to pay a little more in a pedicab. They lack the language to bargain. In a taxi, the meter is the arbiter. For pedicabs, the rule is caveat emptor, and woe betide he who fails to settle the price and then insists on a bargain after the ride.
Another complication involves which of two cabs to take. You may have mounted one when another comes steaming up and your body is relinquished to the late comer. This is not intimidation but exercise of priority. You were picked up by a cruising pedicab and then intercepted by a vehicle stationed on that corner or in that specific area. Pedicab drivers have their own association and are assigned to definite stations. There are rules about picking up passengers while off-station. Even non-members usually yield to a driver who is on-station. If an argument begins, get out and walk. However, this rarely happens.
If the time element is not of concern, the pedicab is an ideal way to shop—and, if you are a tourist, to see the city. You can look at your leisure and to your heart's content. There's a top in case of burning sun or rain, and even side curtains (a front curtain, actually) are available if the rain is more than a shower.
Hare or Tortoise?
Of course, the speed and intrepidity of travel vary with the man at the handlebars. He may be young—with lender abdomen, hulking shoulder, muscular legs, and a love of speed and adventure, a Barney Oldfield of the pedicab. Down the crowded pedicab lane (these are found at either side of the motorized lanes on larger thoroughfares) he will fly like the wind, skillfully and miraculously dodging other pedicabs, even more numerous bicyclists, death-defying pedestrians, and an occasional taxi, jeep or car seeking a parking place, making a right turn or only essaying a debarkation stop.
On the other hand, you could draw a veritable turtle. Each down-stroke of the pedal may seem like his very last. No use to bid him hurry. He has read the story of the hare and the tortoise too many times. If you are late for a date, don't risk the engagement; take a taxi.
Miss China Lilian Wang rides to a Taipei museum (File photo)
The pedicab is useful and it gives employment. But it is also slow and a traffic obstacle. In a mechanized, fast-moving culture, it has to go, as surely and perhaps as regrettably as the street car. The government already has begun a program to phase out the tricycle contraptions by 1970 for Taiwan as a whole and in a year or two less for Taipei, the largest city. Pedicabs will be mourned, but everything will move faster and a little more safely.
The pedicab is really a descendant of the ricksha-the same hooded cab but mounted on a tricycle chassis. It is a cousin of the Vietnam cyclo-pousse in which the driver sits behind the passenger. Many of these vehicles are motorized, as is Thailand's samlor, which places the driver on the left of the cab.
Taiwan Invention
Invention of the pedicab is attributed to a young man of Kaohsiung early in the century.
Wang Tsai-fa, who worked in his father's shop, felt sorry for the ricksha coolies sweating down the scorching streets of the tropical city.
One day while visiting, Wang's eyes brightened at the sight of his friend's motorcycle and sidecar. A sidecar is called tou tu in Taiwanese, meaning a "dragged container". The tou tu was on one side of the motorcycle, supported by an extra wheel. The young man thought of the sweating coolies and had an idea.
He went home brimming with enthusiasm and started on his inspiration. His dream vehicle would have a wooden tou tu on the right side—a boat-shaped conveyance with windows and a seat for two. Wang's father could not make head nor tail of what his son was doing. He called him a wanton spendthrift.
After four months, the young man emerged with the first pedicab. The inventor's initial riders were neighbor children. Then our hero bumped into a rich merchant. With a smile, the merchant asked for a lift. The No. 1 pedicab rider paid the island's No. 1 pedicab driver 10 pre-war Taiwan yen for a 20-minute ride. One yen was then worth six kilograms (13.2 pounds) of rice.
Meanwhile, the inventor had found there was room for improvement. The front part of the sidecar obstructed part of the driver's sight. The clumsy sidecar body made it difficult for the driver to bear to the right. He studied the shortcomings and blueprinted new designs. Two improved pedicabs were manufactured to Wang's special order.
Wang Tsai-fa was now a professional, pedaling his three-wheeler for fares. At the same time he carried on with his work oJ' improvement until a design roughly similar to that of today finally evolved. War broke out and depression ensued. Wang Tsai-fa was compelled to sell his 10 pedicabs, which he once rented at 2 yen a day. As the Japanese ordered concentration on vehicles of war, the production of pedicabs was suspended altogether.
Golden Era
Pedicabs reappeared after restoration of Taiwan to the Republic of China. A golden era had begun. Streets of Taipei soon became pedicab-jammed. The three-wheelers were more popular than their predecessors, the rickshas, and contributed to the livelihood of many mainlanders who escaped to Taiwan and freedom when the Communists usurped power on the mainland in 1949.
As of June, 1965, Taipei had 19,760 pedicabs. This broke down into nearly 10,000 cabs on regular station, more than 3,000 cruising vehicles, and some 6,000 owned by government agencies, businesses, and private individuals.
Some men became pedicab entrepreneurs because they did not make enough from other jobs. The hours are long but the work is healthy and the pay good for those who lack a high level of education or technical skill. Announcement of the Taiwan Provincial Government's program to eliminate pedicabs did not entirely prevent the influx of new pedicab pedalers.
Ah Chin, 29, born in Taiwan, was a sofa maker in Chiayi. He saved his money and in 1962 came to Taipei to buy a new pedicab for NT$13,000 (US$325) and a second-hand one for NT$1,000 (US$25). In accordance with the rules then governing pedicab purchases, he sold the used cab to the Joint Pedicab Purchasing Committee for NT$3,000 (US$72) for scrapping and obtained the license for his new machine. His total investment was less than US$300, including license fees. A member of the Taipei Pedicab Association, Ah Chin earns about US$50 a month. Young and strong, he averages 10 to 12 trips a day. His fees cost him, only US$7 a year. He spends US$0.75 a day for food, and US$5 a month for a rented room. This leaves an ample income for his wife and five-year-old son in Chiayi. He does not smoke and has never touched alcohol.
On the average, a pedicabman with a regular station earns from US$37.50 to $45 a month and a cruising driver about 20 per cent less. Most have larger families than Ah Chin and few are able to save anything. Some 80 per cent of them have been pedaling for five to ten years. At that time pedicabs were cheaper than in recent years.
Pedicabmen who work for others earn from US$20 to $25 a month but have no investment and usually receive board and lodging plus generous bonuses on festival days. Generally speaking, their life is less strenuous than their self-employed counter-parts. They may do chores for their employers and augment their income.
Freedom of Action
Jao Yu, 42, chose to operate a pedicab because "it is a free occupation". He has not joined TPA but makes about NT$1,500 a month. He is single and has enough to live on. "Working under the scorching sun in summer is hard to take," he said. "And sometimes you have to wrestle with wind as if it were a boodthirsty lion and stand up against rain as it pours down in a flood. Fortunately, winter in Taiwan is not long, and on windy and rainy days you have the compensation of a much higher fare. The biggest advantage is freedom. I am my own boss and can take a day or two of rest if I feel like it." Yu's recreation is movies, which are cheap in Taiwan.
The educational level is not too low, although there are no statistics. Most pedicabmen are literate and do a lot of reading—newspapers, periodicals, and fiction. They have plenty of spare time. In a working day of 10 to 12 hours, they spend only 4 to 6 hours in the saddle.
A few pedicabmen are drinkers and gamblers. Most, however, are hard-working, law-abiding citizens. Few become involved in serious crimes. A sociology student wanted to find out why. One answer, he believes, is that a long day of hard work leaves the pedicabbers with little energy for much except eating and sleeping. On festival days, they enjoy mahjong, dice, and other games, even as the rest of the populace. One on-the-job recreation is a game of Chinese chess while waiting for customers. If you see a small crowd gathered around a couple of squatting pedicab drivers, it's a cinch there is a chessboard between them. There are many movie fans and some music lovers. A young artist, sketching for a book of vignettes on Taipei life, drew a pedicabman sitting in his vehicle to play a two-stringed Chinese violin. The caption reads: "Midnight serenade."
Bargaining Process
Saigon pedicab men ride behind passengers (File photo)
Bargaining is as much a part of pedicab enterprise as the wheels. When you ask how much to Nanking Road and Chungshan North Road, the response is apt to be exorbitant and sure to be high. You respond with a lower figure. The pedicabman laughs or scoffs. You come up a little and he comes down a little. Then you walk away. If your last figure was agreeable, he will call after you and climb into the saddle. Actually, the fares for many trips are pretty standardized and the bargaining has only symbolic value. Additionally, many customers have their favorable "on-station" drivers and are generous in payment. With a strange driver, overly shrewd bargaining may not payoff, even if the rider thinks he has saved a couple of cents. The pedicab may be pedaled at tortoise pace, better for you to hear the grumbling of the driver and his remarks about the penury of some people.
"The pedicabmen stationed along Hengyang Road in the central shopping district are terrible," said one pedicab user. "They ask about 30 per cent more than the standard tare. If you succeed in bargaining them down even a little, they will think up all kinds of tricks to get even with you. And in the end they probably will get what they demanded." Tricks are many: slowness, wrong routes, erroneous destinations, and the pretense of not understanding when you protest. Finally, the obdurate driver will insist you gave an incorrect address and that where you really want to go is considerably more costly. Another neat piece of anti-bargaining revenge is a sudden braking of the vehicle to a stop some blocks from your destination. You have had your money's worth, the driver calmly insists, and if you want to get home, the price is what he originally asked.
The Pleasant Side
The other side of the coin is provided by a driver: "We are compelled to ask higher fares from the shopping centers to residential districts because there are more pedicabs allocated to the downtown area and we average fewer trips than our competitors in the residential areas."
When all goes well, however, the relationship between pedicabman and customer can be very pleasant. The driver may be a good conversationalist and friendly company. He may be knowing about the ways of the community and even the world. At the end of the journey he will help with your packages and thank you politely for his pay. The pedicabman seems less like a machine than his cousin, the taxi jockey.
Pedicabs swarm through busy Taipei street (File photo)
The most welcome pedicab customers are those who want a breath of fresh air. On a summer evening, a lady may mount a pedicab and tell the driver to take her to Park Road and back. Such customers are little for speed and pay well for both time and length of journey. The Chinese even have a special name for this trip: tou feng (a ride to cool off). When young lovers beckon, another angel of good luck has favored the pedicabble. The fare is not a matter for discussion. The gain is more than economic. A moon is in the sky and the evening breeze rustles gently. Maybe the cabbie is a romanticist. Leisurely, he picks his way through the traffic and out into the quiet of the suburbs. Behind him the whispered words of love provide a pleasant accompaniment to the driver's hour of relaxation.
Premium Fare
Demand hikes fares. Additionally, the holiday mood is always accompanied by generosity. Business booms during the Lunar New Year period and on other festive days. To make their New Year's visits, people often charter pedicabs and pay the drivers by the hour. Earnings soar. These are the happy times. The sad ones come with typhoons, which sweep pedicabs off the streets along with everything else. Heavy rain cuts business by half. People take drier, faster taxis.
Since establishing the Joint Purchasing Committee in 1961, the government has bought up more than 1,000 pedicabs at US$75 each and now has doubled the price to $150. Another 2,297 pedicab operators have retired voluntarily. Of these, 1,642 have gone in for taxi driving, 242 have become factory workers, 33 have joined the police, 34 have gone to sea, 36 are working with the Taiwan Railway Administration and Taiwan Highway Bureau, and 215 have become retailers of wine and tobacco. The government has ordered its own agencies to dispense with pedicabs. Transfer of used cabs is not being approved. Measures are under study to suspend the manufacture of pedicabs.
Not everyone agrees with the elimination decision. Cried one local paper: "Are pedicabs so inimical to public welfare that things should be done in such a hurry?" Said another: "Why not let the pedicabs die a natural death? Only the degree of industrialization can determine the length of their life." A third paper asked the government to think of the displaced men: "How many can industry absorb? And how much do factory workers make, compared with pedicab earnings?"
Matter of Opinion
Public opinion differs, too. A housewife said: "Don't ever mention pedicabs to me. For safety, I would rather be pressed like a sardine in a packed bus." A police man said pedicabs darting everywhere in defiance of traffic rules create an endless headache for him. He believes traffic congestion will be tremendously relieved when the pedicabs are gone. Said a businessman: "I don't think riding in a taxi is more civilized and safer than riding in a pedicab."
In an interview sample of 50 pedicabmen, about half said they are ready to do as the government wishes. One said: "Assuming that the average family size of pedicabmen is 4 to 5, at least 40,000 persons are counting on pedicabs for their daily rice." Said a Taiwan-born driver: "I bought my cab for NT$13,000 (US$325). Can I sell it for NT$6,000? That will last only three months. What if I can't find a job?" Many want the government to pay US$250 for their cabs.
The government is considering all relevant factors, including the needs of patrons. New bus lines will be opened and service increased. Non-motorized vehicles soon will be barred from 13 traffic-jammed intersections in Taipei.
Some people will miss the pedicabs. Others will be glad to see them go. So it was, too, with the horse and buggy. In time to come children and tourists may have to go to a museum to see a real-life pedicab. On it there may be a placard saying, in effect: "Well done, faithful Taiwan chariot of the first two-thirds of the 20th century. Your master has gone to other pastures—and may you rest in peace."