I'm getting so high-tech I can't stand it

Last Thursday I went to Budget with the same sort of feeling as in buying a new computer -- I was going to get spend a relatively lot of money on something cool, but something that seems extravagant and maybe, just maybe, unnecessary. All the rationaliation was there, specifically, if I'm going to be riding the tandem a lot, I need a rack that can handle it easily. Otherwise I'm at the mercy of whoever has a van I can borrow, or the kindness of other drivers as I haul the tandem around with both ends sticking out, and bouncing up and down.

So Gary and I got the pieces together, he asked me all sorts of questions I'd never considered because I'd never thought about such things, like which side of the roof should it be on, facing front or back, yadayada. I tried to contribute to the conversation, but mostly asked questions or watched for cues. About an hour later I departed, the rack -- I felt anyway -- an ostentatious ornament. As Mei later pointed out, with the rear bike rack and the roof rack on the CR-V, it looks like we are real outdoorsy peope; I wonder how many of the numerous racks and similar appendages on 4-wheel drive vehicles here are actually used more than a couple times a year?

Of course, to use the rack one must remove the front wheel. Which of course meant that I had know how to take it off. But disc brakes don't have a quick release, or, it turns out, any release. One simply pulls the wheel down and away, "being csreful not to bump the pads." Now those are the sort of words that send fear down the spine of us ungeeks, almost like an invitation to bang the wheel around just to, you know, get a feel for the parameters -- or, more realistically, an ominous foreshadowing of problems to come. How much simpler Rocinante and the rear rack were. But methinks I'll get used to this, as well.

You're Never Alone on a Tandem

Another Saturday, another hot and bright day, more tandem rides. First, Daniel; he got on without complaint, if not without effort on the parts of Mei, Anna, and myself, getting him on and his feet in the pedal cages, while he cooperated grudgingly at best. But then we were off. He really tried to pedal this time, but had trouble remembering which way to push, then his ankle turned sideways, so he couldn't. But no real matter -- we were moving at a good clip, and he liked it. His monologue from the front went something like, "I don't know how to ride a bike. Hey I can ride a bike. I'm riding a bike!". We went an extra couple blocks (primarily flats, since his 90-some pounds are a lot to push around), and even down a short stretch of the bike trail. Of course, by the time we got home, he denied having fun. But I know better; we just have to figure out how to better lock his feet in. Another step forward.

Then Mei got on, for about the same distance (though she really pedaled, and that made all the difference). But when we stopped in the driveway to switch stokers, she leaned over a bit too far too fast, I lost balance, and over we went, tangled in the frame. I came down on my right elbow, which got bloody and bruised. It took a bit for me to extricate myself, and a bit longer for Dr. Mei to patch up my arm, but at least the bike was undamaged.

Then Anna and I were off, and I knew she wouldn't settle for a short spin. We went over to and down Mt. Nemesis, that good ol' boy of an 11% downhill (not so good the other way) and it was inspiring to hear Anna's delight at the wind in her face, and nice to see the Capitol shimmering in the distance. We took the bike trail for awhile, along a golf course then the roads, till we ended up at Budget, where I had a few questions to ask and wanted to buy some Goo. Anna browsed the store, picking at tools and cycling toys, much the same way that I would wander the pipe bins on long-ago summer road trips with my father, as he made sales calls to small town plumbers. I ran into Gary, the somewhat paunchy bearded middle-aged guy who had put on my roof rack, and introduced him to Anna with the same parental largesse my father would display as he introduced me to his clients. And Anna replied politely, as I must have done.

Then Anna and I headed got onto the Capital Loop bike trail, and followed it over to Lake Monona, cruised along the lake, then got onto the Lake Wingra trail, behind the zoo and Edgewood College, long, heavily wooded, shade-darkened loops, often along a lilied and mossy slow moving creek, with ducks, geese, turtles and the occasional other cyclists. By then the day was getting hot and long, and home seeming dangerously far off. I was less hydrated than I liked, because I can't get at my water bottle as I ride, because of the configuration of the bike and the upright bars, so I had to rely on Anna to hand me her bottle from time to time.

Sometimes Anna and I would talk, and sometimes we would each fall silent into our own worlds, at which times, she usually answered, she was thinking about the novel she is writing. Sometimes she would launch into a monologue about manga books or some other teen fascination of hers, and I would try to listen, with either real or feigned interest, realizing that on a tandem there is no escape.

As we worked our way along I could tell I was getting tired because I kept seeking the path of least resistance, and dreading the approach of every hill of any substance (though to be fair, Anna was working as hard as I, and making a big difference in our progress). Soon I was trying to avoid hills if I could, which, of course, is usually counterproductive because bike routes are usually laid out along the paths of least resistance. I won't say I got us lost, but I will admit there were times when I didn't know exactly where we were or the best route home.

It was at that moment I sensed the awesome responsibility of captaining a tandem, made even more manifest with the stoker in front -- Anna had no choice but to pedal and maybe pray. I would be watching the road and either tell her a turn was approaching, or simply make the turn on my own, and she, uncomplaining, would trundle along. She trusted me, and I could only hope to merit that trust; it's one thing to get myself lost and hot and tired; another to drag a 14-year-old girl along.

Eventually we stumbled onto a really cool bike overpass across the Beltline, got within reasonable distance of home, and made that final push, and wearily rolled home, tired and thirsty and happy. Anna had the added delight of brightly sunburned legs.

A turn around the basement

Got up this morning at 5:15 and rode the trainer for about 30 minutes, enough to work up a sweat, but not near the sweat I would work up if I were to try and ride in this 98 degrees of humidity. Felt a bit odd to be on Rocinante again, after so long -- I even had to pump up both tires, and re-educate myself about the shifters. And that saddle is harder than Racer's. Not to mention the still and humid air in the basement which, though not hot, is conducive to sweat.

But enough whining. It's come to my awareness that if I want to stay or get back into shape, I have to do something about it. I was so inspired last year, and did so well, and it was equally as easy to stop, and I did that well, too. But I have to understand that when I am laying there deciding whether to get up, it's mewho has to decide; no one else will. Though Mei tries sometimes -- and she has been an inspiration to me since in the past several months she's become a real regular on the treadmill, and beginning to show it. The tandem helps, too, not only the riding itself, but the fact that Anna wants to do it, and doesn't hesitate to push me about it.

I also had a bit of a learning lesson earlier this week. After the flat on Racer, I noticed that my frame pump doesn't accept Schrader valves (like Racer) just Presta's (like Rocinante). "Aha," I thought,"an opportunity to vist Budget again." Fortunately I examined one of the newer Blackburn pumps and noticed, on the back of the package, instructions on how to reverse the valve. So I spared myself the embarrassment of having one of those insufferably young bike guys explaining the patently obvious to me. The valve's now reversed, and I feel like I accomplished something in doing so; though I didn't get a chance to spend anything -- yet -- at Budget. That's coming, though, the roof rack is there and it don't come cheap -- though it's kind of cool in that it pivots, so I don't have to lift the heavy (44 pound) bike clear up there, and can do it myself. (I must be getting back into the cycling mode because I read the Thule catalog while eating breakfast).

Four rides

Late Friday afternoon I suggested to Anna, half in jest, that we take Racer out for a spin. She surprised me with her enthusiastic yes. So off we went, through quiet residential streets, and out Old Sauk Road, past the library; I told Anna that if it were a daylight ride, we'd probably stop in for a bit; she said that'd be nice. My plan was to head out to Pleasantview Road, which cuts back to Mineral Point Road, which we take home. A pleasant but non-taxing ten or so miles.But just past the library I heard a sickeningly familiar"whup-whip-whip," and felt the wobble and pull of sudden flat rear tire. Not being familiar with Racer's workings, and it being a rear wheel, I decided not to attempt to patch it in the fading daylight. So we walked back to the library, and called home.

Well.

Mei was exercising in the basement and didn't pick up her phone for about an hour, but at least the library was open, and Anna happily settled in with a pile of mangas. After Mei finally did arrive, I learned to my chagrin that Racer will not fit in our CRV, no matter how many seats you remove -- which had been my rationale (and fallback position) for not yet springing for a roof rack -- that and my ultimately unfounded conviction that these fat road tires would be all but immune to puncture. We talked the library staff into letting us store the bike inside overnight; I had hoped for real inside storage, but they, obviously not bicycle afficiandos and clearly reluctant bailors, offered only an alcove, albeit behind locked glass doors. That being the best available option we went home sans Racer, and I slept the fitful sleep of one whose new toy is exposed to criminal elements (although, as Anna later pointed out, Racer is so unique that one could hardly pawn her, or expect to ride her openly on the streets -- but still).

Next day -- right at the library's 9 a.m. opening -- I picked up Racer with the traditional trunk rack, which left it sticking out both sides; a slow and careful drive home, and Mei and I manuevered it into my basement workshop. After some tedious searching, I found a tiny shard of glass sticking through the sidewall, which took a lot of work with tweezers and needlenose pliers to extricate. By the time I finished it was too late and hot to set out on a ride, so I promised Anna we'd go in the morning.

Sunday morning broke hot, humid, and sunny, with heat index warnings. Before Anna and I left, Mei and I persuaded Daniel to go for a short ride, despite his misgivings. We set out, his feet in the pedal straps, but he refused to pedal (I suspect it was an organized "slowdown"). When, during the ride, I asked him how he liked it, he said "okay," but when I asked him which way I should go, he said, "home." So we did, one time around the block. But, it's a start. He promised to ride again, but "not today."

Then I got Mei onto the bike -- she's never ridden a bike, and had some misgivings. But the short ride went well, and she wants to go again, for a longer distance. At least she pedaled.

And Anna and I set off, to downtown again. Things went smoothly, and the tire held. But downtown being down, it was easy to go further than I intended, and, with the heat and humidity, I sensed an impending bonk. Whenever we stopped for traffic lights the heat seemed to push up in a wall from the pavement, and shade seemed scarce. So I set the return route as least challenging as possible, but still found myself fading. We stopped at the EVP coffee shop, a couple miles from home, so I could get some icewater. As I stood in there with my water, two different people said something about it being very hot, and looking at me with what appeared to be mild concern. When I went into the bathroom I saw why -- my face was as red as my helmet, or as Racer's scarlet paint. But with nothing left to do but do it, we set out again; the downhills and flats were tolerable, but the hills were a struggle, so much so that even Anna asked if I were okay. We finally did arrive home, into glorious air-conditioning and fruit smoothies. A half-hour nap on the bed, with an overhead fan blowing over me, and I was about as good as new.

And ready to go again.

Buddies and more

Anna had a friend over this afternoon, who had biked over. When it was time for the friend to leave, Anna and I decided to escort her on the Bilenky. A short, sweet, ride on a humid late afternoon, on quiet residential streets, long shadows beginning to attach themselves to big quiet trees, accompanied by the occasional screech of a bluejay. What struck me the most was not that Anna and I are beginning to get coordinated, but the sensation of teamwork, falling comfortably into place without words. There was also a sense of equality that Anna and I rarely feel, when I'm busy parenting or ordering, or both. This was nice.

That's something I didn't realize earlier about tandem riding; I've shared many rides, of course, with good friends and enjoyed them much -- and hope to do it again -- but that always involves two separate entities, independent beings who share time, but also fall back into each independent world. That don't happen on a tandem; you're together for the long haul. And you're destined to learn a lot about the other, for well or ill.

Three on a tandem

Sunday was sunny and warm, borderline hot. What better time to take Racer the tandem out for a spin (assuming I could shanghai a stoker). Daniel was uninterested at best, but a mix of cajoling and commanding got him to finally don his helmet (mom has to put it on him, all because of a slight miscalculation on my part years ago that resulted in a bit of a pinch) and sit on the bike. One step at a time. Mei did say that he smiled broadly when I moved Racer a few feet down the driveway. But then he insisted on dismounting, on his own.

Anna actually got on board as a willing victim. We took some back roads down to the bike trail by Shorewood Hills and got onto the Lake Mendota trail, which we followed to the Union, where we stopped and watched the ducks and talked. Still got a lot of looks and comments while riding, and I think I'm getting the hang of it -- balance is a lot firmer than I had suspected, and hills are somewhat less challenging than on Rocinante. Still, I found myself breathing heavily on the first hill, to the extent that Anna asked if I were okay. I was. I was fine. Nice to be out again. And things got easier again when I got into rhythm.

Nice to see things through Anna's fresh eyes, too. We got caught in a bit of rain on the way back, and Anna commented that it was "cool" -- in the slang sense, since at 80 degrees the water was blood warm. She said it was her first time in the rain on a bike. She also confided in me that she's uncomfortable on her solo bike -- "Pedals", a pretty nice Trek hybrid, because her legs aren't strong, and she seems to spend all her time in misery and the wrong gear. I'm hoping this exposure to the joys of the road -- we went about 15 miles -- and the sensation of actual speed and accomplishment of our tandem experiences will encourage her to eventually head out again on her own, and with stronger legs.

We got home feeling rather exhilerated, though Daniel's only concern was that I might try again to get him on board. Not yet, Bucko, though your time is coming. I first need to get the bike rack and take Racer back to Budget to get adjusted to his legs, and, probably, to have a notch or two taken up on the chain.

And, judging by the photos, I too, need to have a notch or two -- or three -- taken in on my own chain. Amazing how easy it is to fall so far from the wagon.