The politics of Austin’s rickshaws
The pedicabs come out to play during SXSW. And yes, Uber can get one to pick you up from your bar stool
Topics: SXSW, sxswi, South by Southwest, pedicabs, rickshaws, uber, SXSW News, Technology News, Business News
When night falls on SXSW, festival attendees hide their badges and explode across the downtown area in search of food and (lots and lots and lots of) drink. Think Mardi Gras without the beads, or perhaps hell opening up its bowels (mostly on Sixth Street). Legions of conference goers who have spent their days listening to panels on copyright and the future of free porn abandon all semblance of nerd decorum and spend their remaining conscious hours frantically trying to force their way into dozens of overcrowded private party-hosting venues.
And everywhere, the roaring drunk are ferried across town by chariot.
Wait, no, I mean pedicab.
It’s old news to veteran SXSWers, but immediately striking to anyone new to town. Bicycle-powered cabs are a fixture downtown. Twenty-four companies operate pedicabs. As of last summer, reports the Austin Monthly, there were 341 permitted cabs and 955 authorized drivers. There’s even a company called “Metro Rickshaw.”
I am obsessed with the pedicabs. I can’t stop thinking about the first, and only time, I rode in one. I was in Xiamen, China, in 1985, when foreigners were few and far between outside of the biggest cities (and not so common there, either). A friend and I had just gotten off a minibus around midnight, and were looking for transportation to lodging recommended by the Lonely Planet. The only means available was a pedicab operated by a man who looked about 80 years old and appeared to weigh about 80 pounds. He was nothing but skin and bone and gristle, but he happily agreed to take us to our hostel for some infinitesimal price.
At the time, I remember thinking, this is the most overt imperialist act I have ever been party to. OK, it wasn’t a true rickshaw — the guy wasn’t jogging along holding two poles on his shoulders. But there was still something so raw about having one person’s physical labor directly responsible for moving us from point A to B. Knowing that we had more cash in our pockets than he probably would earn in his lifetime just made it worse. For the next three months, I never got in one again. I would rather walk.
Andrew Leonard is a staff writer at Salon. On Twitter, @koxinga21. More Andrew Leonard.




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