T42

Mark and I feel that it is important for couples to do things together. So when I needed to go to a fabric store this weekend, he came along. And, as a good wife should, when he asked me to go for a bike ride, I agreed. Then he elaborated that he wanted to take the new-to-us tandem for a test run. He has been "fixing" it up for me - upright handle bars so I don't have to bend over, big bouncy seat so I won't get a tender tush, cute handlebar grips so I can look stylish while being dragged around town, and a lower gear thing-a-ma-bob so we won't go fast. So with all this invested in the bike and Mark's willingness to stand around JoAnn Fabrics while I fondle and peruse, I felt I couldn't say no. Now,  a little background information...... you don't just jump on a tandem and ride off into the sunset. There are JOBS and TRAINING involved. The person in the front is the Captain and the person in the back is the Stoker. I am - you guessed it - the Stoker. Or, more appropriately, the Stoker-In-Training or SIT. As the SIT, I must NEVER NEVER take my feet off the pedals and NEVER NEVER tip or wiggle - but sit up STRAIGHT with my weight in the middle. And I am supposed to use the bell (which we don't have yet) to warn people we are coming and to signal when we are going to turn. As the Captain, Mark is supposed to steer, change gears, TELL me when we are going to coast ( and not pedal), TELL me when we are hitting a pothole, TELL me when we are going to stop or turn or whatever. I have been told my duties - Mark studied it all online for weeks before we even got the bike and gave me all the details. But knowing your job and fulfilling it successfully are two different things.
Mark decided not to have our test run on the streets as our stopping and starting routine is still a bit shaky and falling down in front of speeding cars is not very healthy. So we headed for the Guadalupe River Trail. The trail runs along the Guadalupe River which most of the year is not very river-ish, but more rivlet. I'm sure it is polluted as sections smell like a sewer and signs are posted warning you not to eat the fish which are full of mercury. The herons and egrets obviously can't read as they seem to like dining along its banks. But it is pretty and used by runners, walkers and bikers. Unfortunately for us, it is not  all paved...... So here is the test ride - Mark is hunched over the handle bars looking like a Tour de France rider...... I'm sitting bolt upright looking like...... a Tour de Farce rider. But I'm smiling as it is a lovely day and a nice breeze is blowing. Our start-off procedure goes like this - Mark says "1, 2, 3" and on 3, he pushes off and I'm supposed to start pedaling like mad. Then he hops onto both pedals, wiggles the front wheel a bit and we head out. Sometimes he forgets he is supposed to TELL me when he wants to coast and all of a sudden, my feet can't pedal and jerk back. We maneuver through traffic and get to the trail. Phew, not dead yet. Now we are on the trail and it is paved and we are rolling along and I am looking around and enjoying the view and I lean out to see what is in front of us and Mark hollers "DON'T TIP FOR GOD'S SAKE". So I quick sit up again. Oops. A bit of bike wiggle as Mark tries to keep us upright..... I realize that if I want to see OVER his back and head, I must NOT lean to the side but must STRAIN my neck to peak over his head. Then we come to the end of the pavement and hit gravel...... slippery gravel..... Oh dear....... I don't move a muscle but barely turn my head side to side to see the egrets, herons and hawks watching us and, I'm sure, getting a good chuckle. Then, just when Mark seems a bit more confident on the gravel, we hit dirt..... dried mud in DEEP ruts. Oh dear again...... and I can FEEL Mark's tension as we twist our way around the worst of it. No looking at ANYTHING in this stretch.....feet on the pedals..... perfectly still so he won't tip us over.....Then back on gravel. Whew. Mark got me squishy grips for my handlebars. I now know why they need to be squishy - I squeeze the HELL out of them. And they are white which matches my knuckles. The path goes on and on...... and on..... and this nice bouncy seat is NOT padded and my butt bones are getting sore. So I mention this to Mark who quickly agrees to turn around. We dismount to do this as we can't turn on gravel yet. Then, on the way back, I get to practice some of my other stoker skills. Like warning people ahead of us that we might run them over by accident. Now, we don't have a bell yet. So I improvise and turn into a Stoker doorbell.... DING DONG DING DONG (which means "If you value your life, get into the ditch QUICK). As we fly past, I call over my shoulder (withOUT leaning to the side) "We don't have our bell yet" (as if they could care.... they are probably just grateful we didn't kill them).  Mark, the Captain, decides that this time we will go UNDER the roads rather than across them the way we did on the outward bound trip. Fine, I think. Less cars, curbs, death....But the underpasses slope down rather quickly and we are FLYING under the road. My feet can't stay on the pedals that are zooming around. How do the Tour boys do it? I try to get back on the pedals and they whack my feet. OW. So I just stick my legs out to the side and wait for them to slow down. And we pass under the road and start up the other side. Which is an up..... and my feet are still sticking out...... and Mark is desperately trying to haul us up... and he says "Are you pedaling?" Oh, right...back to work. So I explain why and at next underpass, he shouts "COASTING" as we start down..... and then at the bottom, "Staart pedaaaaaling......NO, NOT SO FAST!! Go EASY. Yes, that's it". And then at the sidewalk..... "We are going to stop......stopping.....stopping....." Now, I have to tell you, we are NOT stopping and the curb is getting closer and the cars are whizzing by and we are NOT STOPPING and I am gripping my squishy handlebars and.....I TAKE MY FEET OFF THE PEDALS TO PUT THEM ON THE GROUND TO STOP US FOR GOD'S SAKE and we stop before I can do this. The bike is wiggling and tipping slightly and Mark is frantically trying to keep it upright and not saying a word. We get on the street headed for home. I get to signal our turns - my left arm stuck way out straight frantically waving (GET OUT OF OUR WAY YOU IDIOTS - CAN'T YOU SEE THAT WE HAVE TO GET HOME) as we turn left. And then, there it is.... our little Mouse House. And I can put my feet on non-gravely ground and limp away in one piece. In our debriefing later, Mark admits that it was a bit tense. That riding on gravel and rutted mud is not fun. But that once we got going, it went pretty well. "But honey. We have to practice the stopping and starting a bit more, don't you think?" Right........ On our counter I found a pamphlet for the Tandem Club of America - An International Organization of Tandem Enthusiasts. I don't think we will join..... at least not for now.