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.
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.
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