PHOTOGRAPH BY BOGGY / DREAMSTIME
Since the day I acquired a luscious banana seat model as a girl, I’ve loved the freedom that comes with biking. Aboard my sweet set of wheels, I ventured through exotic territories surrounding my home, loosing the ties of civilization. The bike’s basket held a snack, usually a Hershey bar and thermos of cold lemonade. Thus prepared, I rode off with a clang of my bicycle bell as my mother waved from the window.
Moving beyond nostalgia, bikes remain objects of fascination to me. I roll even when I travel, highlighting cycling in family vacation itineraries. At the nation’s capital, it’s a blast to pedal around monuments in Memorial Park, combining a history lesson with the pleasures of two-wheeled transportation. (Only 5 years old at the time, my daughter Ella ate Fruit Loops and contentedly cruised along in a trailer attached to my husband’s bike.)
That trailer carrier inspired brainstorming, and in my late 40s, I realized that there was one bike experience yet to try. At this stage in life, I had the notion of riding a bicycle built for two. While some middle-aged women dream of ocean cruises or mastering meditation, my fantasy centered on a gleaming tandem bike. Rumor was that one could fly faster on a tandem, eclipsing a pulse rate attained by biking in the conventional way. Evidently, I thirsted for a superpower, and after so many years riding solo, I was just as intrigued by the dynamics of cooperation and teamwork.
The ride smoothed out and our close proximity meant that we could chat about the sweeping oak trees and passing landscape. As my spouse and I pedaled in unison, my spirit soared. This adventure provided a sense of total togetherness and was pure fun.
Reckoning with mid-life crisis, I arranged to rent a tandem bike ahead of a vacation in Hilton Head, South Carolina. At the Airbnb, I touched my new baby’s seats longingly while relatives hastily threw on their bathing suits and flip-flops. In preparation, I had learned about the captain and stoker roles and understood that the captain’s seat was a trophy to be won. My husband, Eric, beat me to that prized spot, giving him the ability to steer and brake the bike. So, I tentatively took the stoker’s seat, wondering how this experiment would end. Approaching our 20th anniversary, I felt confident that we could rise above petty power plays.
At showtime, every utopian vision crumbled. On the launch, we fought to balance the bike, and then Eric steered toward the city plaza while I insisted that we turn the other way down a shaded trail. “That’s why I won’t ride tandem,” tutted my stepdad as he watched our fractious departure. Our temperament differences placed us at opposite poles. While I prefer to pedal briskly, my laidback spouse slowed, forcing me to coast. Just wait it out, I told myself, your chance will come. But the trip continued to go south near the shoreline. “Don’t run over the sandcastle!” I shouted. Moments later, Eric mowed it down — well, call it corporate guilt. We were in this together.
Eventually, the ride smoothed out and our close proximity meant that we could chat about the sweeping oak trees and passing landscape. As my spouse and I pedaled in unison, my spirit soared. This adventure provided a sense of total togetherness and was pure fun. To my surprise, Eric grew into a benevolent captain and honored my request to go back and explore the trail near the rental house. The next morning, I claimed the captain’s seat and experienced the thrill of opening the bike’s power. For a short time, before one of us grew tired or distracted, we went faster than possible alone.
While on vacation in Vancouver, I looked forward to repeating the sublime experience. From a bike shop downtown, we rode to Stanley Park with our daughter, Ella, cruising behind on a regular bike. While Eric appreciated the stunning scenery, he wasn’t in the mood to ride tandem. My beaming face was a contrast to his sour demeanor. Perhaps I pedaled too briskly? Or was this payback for banning Led Zeppelin in the car? “I want to change bikes,” he said.
Suddenly sad, I braked and turned to watch him slide off the bike. Then I glanced at my watch — with four hours left on our rental, there was no time to waste. For the rest of the afternoon, Ella served as a wonderful partner, and we set a solid tandem PR. Biking independently, Eric was supremely happy. In some seasons of life, there comes growth in reevaluating priorities and releasing what is no longer productive or of value. He finds zestful joy in rocking to Led Zeppelin, so perhaps it would be wise to step outside when he jams rather than fuss about the noise. My opposition to his nirvana can be released. As for what to keep, I’m definitely holding onto the joy of riding tandem and will invite one of my daughters or a friend to join me. Joy can reverberate in a rock riff or unfold in a captain’s seat.
Years from now, I’ll know the retirement community that is right for me. The exercise room will have a stationery tandem and a screen that displays tempting scenery. I’ll introduce myself around and surely find someone who seeks adventure. For now, I’m on my way to the bike shop to bring some of this beach idyll home.
Stephanie Painter is a local freelance writer and author of the children’s picture book Liz Tames a Dragon (and her Anger).
