Seer

by Robin Roseau

  “Oh, I see,” she said.

  “You need to watch for cars,” I said. “And these are brakes.” I showed her. “If you grab them suddenly, you’ll crash, but that can be better than running into something. What I want you to do is get on, go about ten feet, then use both brakes together to come to a gentle stop. In fact, practice the brakes in just one place first, then try it.”

  She got on and did what I said. “Easy enough.”

  “All right, ten feet and a gentle stop.”

  She wobbled a lot, but she did it readily. “Do that a few more times until you’re sure you can brake, then I want you to go up and down the driveway this way until you’re comfortable. Look for cars.”

  At first, she really just walked the bike, but she quickly grew braver and braver, pedaling along on the ground then coasting for a bit, pedaling and coasting again. She went up and down the driveway, then turned right and went down the street before coming back. She got better, and soon she was coasting long distances, holding her feet up from the ground, and the wobbles grew smaller and smaller. Finally she came all the way up the driveway, grinning broadly.

  “Is this how you learned?” she asked.

  “No. But I fell a lot that first day. You’re doing great.”

  “Thanks. I feel a little silly.”

  “But your skin is whole,” I said. “Did you want to do that some more? Or do you want to try pedaling?”

  “Pedaling.”

  And so we put the pedals back on.

  “Why did you take them off in the first place?”

  “So you didn’t hit your shins against them.”

  “Oh. Thanks.”

  “All right,” I said. “The hardest part is to get started. You’ll be fine once you’re moving. Let me show you something.”

  We traded places. I started out standing beside the bike with my left foot on the left pedal. I looked at her. “You can start like you’re skateboarding.” I began rolling, pushing off on the ground with my right foot, then threw my leg over, pedaled around, and came back up.

  “You don’t do that at every stop sign.”

  “No.” So I showed her that.

  “Okay, sure,” she said.

  “Now, little kids learn by their parents pushing them. Maybe we should do it that way.”

  “Maybe let me try. We’ll see how it goes.”

  So I let her have the bike back. “Check for cars before you start and again before entering the street.”

  She looked in both directions, pushed off, wobbled horribly, but then she was pedaling. She almost wiped out at the bottom of the driveway, but she got it under control, turned down the street and, with more confidence than I would have expected, pedaled casually down the street. She wobbled heavily when she turned around, then she came back up the driveway.

  She was grinning like mad. I high fived her.

  “I did it!”

  “You did,” I said. “Did you check behind you before you turned around?”

  “Um.”

  “A friend got hit that way once, so I’m always paranoid about it.”

  “I would have heard them.”

  “Let’s go test drive a Prius and then tell me that,” I said. “Those things are quiet.”

  “I’ll be more careful.” She paused. “You said around the block?”

  “I’ll go with you. Just give me a minute.” I ran into the garage, bringing the tools with me, and changed into my biking shoes. I grabbed my road bike. The mountain bike would have been better for this, but I didn’t want to take time to pull it down. I rolled back out.

  I showed her the bottoms of my shoes, then I showed her how they clipped in. “You go first. I’ll catch up.”

  “You said this is a three-speed. Like a car?” I nodded. “Is this the clutch?”

  “There’s no clutch. That’s the rear brake,” I said. “You should have been using it.”

  “Oh, right. I have been.”

  “You have to keep pedaling, but you just shift this little lever.” I showed her. “For now, don’t worry about it. Most of us learn to ride on one-speeds. We’ll go slow, but you need to just get used to starting and stopping more than anything else. Remember the traffic laws. We’re subject to the same laws as a car. Complete stops at stop signs and watch for cars.”

  “Gotcha.”

  I waited for her to get going, then I hopped on my bike and followed after her. With an experienced rider on quiet streets, I might ride next to her, but I didn’t want to be in her way if she wobbled, so I stayed a bike length behind her.

  “I’m right behind you, Solange,” I said. “You’re doing very well.”

  We rode around the block twice. At the bottom of my driveway, she came to a stop, and I stopped next to her.

  “Can I try shifting?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Just remember to downshift before coming to a stop, or it can be hard to get going again.”

  So we went around again, and I watched as she managed the shifter. It was easy on the three-speed.

  She did very well. She was wobbly starting and stopping, but far better than I would have expected. I had never taught anyone to ride a bike before, and I would have thought it was harder to learn than this. I wondered if her skiing experience helped.

  We went around the block four more times. Solange practiced everything, shifting, braking, and coming to a stop. Finally she pulled up to the driveway and came to a gentle stop. She looked over her shoulder, and she was grinning from ear to ear.

  “Can we go further?”

  “Are you sure?” She nodded enthusiastically.

  “All right,” I said. “Did you want to stay on that bike? We can adjust the seat so it’s more comfortable. Or we can pull down the other road bike, but it will be more challenging to ride.”

  She glanced into the garage, and I could see her answer.

  “But I’m afraid I’ll hurt your bike.”

  “You won’t. It’s already got some scrapes, anyway. I’d be more concerned about your legs than my bike.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she said.

  So we rolled the comfort bike back into the garage. She helped me put it away, then we moved the ladder and pulled down the road bike. It was set up for clips, so I went to my tool chest and pulled out a set of pedal pads. They clip into the pedals on the bike and give a foot a place to push without having the right shoes.

  “Clever,” she said.

  “Let’s get it adjusted for you,” I said. “This is mostly a comfort thing. You want to be able to reach the ground from the seat barely, and your leg should just have a slight bend at the longest reach. I think, anyway.”

  It took a few tries to get the seat right. I adjusted the handlebars higher for her, too. She eyed everything carefully.

  “What is all this?” She gestured at the handlebars.

  “There are two positions for riding,” I said. “You can ride mostly upright, and your hands are here. These are the brakes. And these are the shifters. I’ll come back to those. Or you can go down like this.” I bent way over and grabbed the lower section of the handlebars. “Less wind resistance, so you can go a lot faster.”

  “I understand.”

  I explained about the shifters and actually demonstrated while holding the rear tire from the ground.

  “Oh, I see.”

  When I was done, I left it in my preferred “getting started” gear.

  “We’re going to go around the block a few times. You can practice shifting and get used to it, then I’ll lead the way to the trail. We’ll go a mile or two and see how you feel.”

  “Is that far?”

  “No.” I told her about my 100-kilometer ride. “But you won’t be up to that. It uses muscles you never use. So we’ll go a mile or two and see. Remember, we have to get back, and it’s embarrassing to walk the bike if you get tired.” I paused. “Solange, bikers fall. If nothing else, you can fall if you get a sudden flat. I’ve done that a couple of times. And weird stuf
f happens. And car drivers can be really exceedingly rude. I haven’t been hit by a car, but I have friends who have.”

  She laughed. “I believe you just gave me the lawyer’s disclaimer.”

  “You’ll have to draft a statement to use in the future.” She laughed again.

  “I consider myself forewarned.”

  I let her lead the way around the block a few times. She practiced everything, both from the more upright and the inclined position. I was impressed.

  “Ready for the trail?” I called out.

  “Sure!”

  I sped up and passed her. “Follow me. I’ll keep us to a modest pace, but if you want to go faster, just tell me.”

  Eden Prairie is crisscrossed with bike trails, and it wasn’t far to one of the best bike trails I ever use. I set a comfortable pace there, and Solange kept up easily. We pulled onto the trail, and gone a short distance, and she called out. “Sidney! I love it. We can go faster if you want.”

  So I kicked it up a notch, and a half mile later, she said, “Faster,” and a short while later, “faster!”

  I glanced at my speedometer. We were up to sixteen miles per hour, which is the limit of my distance speed. Serious bikers can go faster, closer to twenty miles an hour, and I could sprint that fast, but this was my limit for more than a couple of miles. Luckily, she didn’t ask me to speed up again.

  She kept up easily. I was impressed.

  I took us three miles before we came to a good place to turn around. I called out, “Coming to a stop,” and then slowed gently, not wanting her to run me over.

  She was beaming. “Sidney!” she said. “This is great!”

  “We should turn around so we get home while you still believe that,” I said, returning her smile.

  She cocked her head. “If I weren’t here, how far would you go?”

  “An easy ride is an hour or two. My butt starts to hurt after that, and it was killing me at the end of that long ride. My training rides are forty to sixty miles. Anything less is just exercise and a nice ride.”

  “Let’s keep going.”

  “Solange, I don’t want to have to come find you with the car.”

  “You won’t have to.”

  “You’re using muscles you don’t normally use.”

  “I have a gym at home, and there are bikes in it.”

  “It’s not the same.”

  “Sidney, I know my own body. I’m good for at least another hour.”

  “You’re sure?” She nodded. “At that pace?”

  “Is that a good pace for you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll keep up.”

  I shook my head, finding it hard to believe.

  “Trust me, Sidney,” she said. “I’ll keep up, and you won’t hear a single complaint.”

  “We’ll turn around in twenty minutes,” I said.

  “You’re the boss.”

  * * * *

  She kept up. I was terribly impressed and had a hard time believing she hadn’t done this before. When we got back to my garage, she was laughing, and as soon as we were both off the bikes, I got a sweaty hug from her.

  I was a lot sweatier than she was.

  “That was great!” she said. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “How often do you go?”

  “Three or four times a week, although I’m a fair weather biker.”

  “Will you let me go with you? Will you help me buy everything I need?”

  “You’re sure?” She nodded enthusiastically.

  “Can I leave it here? I don’t want to buy a special car to haul it.”

  I laughed and agreed. “I have a bike rack,” I said.

  “Can we go now? Wait; let’s go tomorrow. I want to show you how to water ski, and I think I want to take you to lunch first.”

  I smiled. “So.”

  “Yes?”

  “I bet you never thought you’d be wearing spandex once you hit thirty.”

  She looked down at the bicycle pants. “Spandex?” I nodded, grinning. “I think I look good. I think you do, too.”

  I pulled her into the house.

  * * * *

  We showered together. We took our time.

  Afterwards, we got dressed. I was prepared for it to be awkward as I picked out what to bring with me. We were going swimming, and then over to Dolores’ house. Solange beat me to handling it. I turned around, and she was right there. She pulled me into her arms and kissed me deeply, still full of the passion we’d shared in the shower. I was left moaning before she released me.

  “I want you to spend the night tonight, too, but if you want to come back here instead, am I invited?”

  I looked up into her eyes. “All right,” I said. “But for now, two nights in a row max. I’m not moving in.”

  “Yet.”

  “Fine. Yet.”

  “Long weekends.”

  “Solange…”

  “Long weekends. What is the rule for long weekends?”

  “Fine, it’s a guideline. I’m not moving in. I don’t want us assuming I’m spending every night in your bed. Especially work nights.”

  “Some work nights.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “But we’re spending tomorrow together.”

  “Yes, if you want, but not tomorrow night.”

  “I promise to release you before bedtime,” she said. She kissed me to seal the deal. “So you’ll stay in my bed? Or did you want to come back here?”

  “If we’re going to the bike shop, then let’s come back here after cards,” I suggested.

  “All right.” So I packed for swimming and then I packed more clothes for the evening. And then we were on the road.

  Skiing

  We swam first. The lake was crisp, and I whooped when I first got in, but I’d been swimming in Minnesota lakes before. It was fine.

  We’d been in the water for about ten minutes when we were hailed from shore. I looked, and Aubree was there in her own suit. I looked at Solange.

  “She lives here,” Solange said. “And someone has to drive the boat.”

  “She lives here?”

  She pointed. “Well, across the road, but yeah.”

  “Solange said something about skiing,” Aubree called out. “I’m not too early, am I?”

  “No,” Solange replied. “Going to swim first?”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” she said. She set her things down on one of the chairs on shore then ran down the dock and made a clean dive into the water. She came up, whooping herself, then swam for us. She swam well.

  She came to a stop perhaps five paces from us. “Congratulations,” she said. “I’m so happy for both of you.”

  “Thank you, Aubree,” I said.

  “You swim well,” she observed.

  “Native Minnesotan,” I said. “We all swim well, as do you.”

  “I’m not native, but thanks,” she said. “I couldn’t swim a stroke when I met Solange. She taught me. She taught me everything.” She bent her head back in the water, sinking below the surface, then came back up, shaking the water out. “Oh, that feels so good.”

  I had to agree with her.

  “So. Swimming for a while? Or should we get serious?”

  I suddenly grew nervous. “Maybe I should just ride in the boat.”

  “Nonsense,” Solange said.

  “I’m not going to do as well on skis as you did on the bike.”

  “It’s not a competition, Sidney. It would mean a lot if you do your best.”

  “It’s hard at first,” Aubree said, “You might drink some lake water. I recommend keeping your mouth closed. But you’ll get it.”

  “We’ll show you first,” Solange said. “Come on.” She set off for shore, Aubree and I following her. By the time I was standing on the sand, she was at the back of the tiki bar, pulling out life jackets and skis. Aubree stepped forward and collected a life jacket from Solange. She dressed me in it like I were a doll, adjust
ing all the straps. “Comfy?”

  “I guess.”

  “You can take that off in the boat, if you want,” she said. “I just wanted to get it sized for you.” She turned to Solange. “Who is demonstrating?”

  “You, I think,” Solange replied. “I’ll drive, and she can ride in the boat.”

  “All right. Once around on two skis, then I’ll drop one and have some fun?”

  “Sure.”

  “Drop one?” I asked.

  “Good skiers ski on one ski,” Solange explained. “Aubree easily can start on one, but she’ll start on two to show you. Then I’ll swing past the dock, and she’ll kick one off and ski on one after that. It’s harder but a lot more fun.”

  “I understand.”

  They showed me the skis, and then Solange and I walked over to where her boat was waiting. She helped me in, showed me the handle Aubree would grasp, and then started the boat. We ran once around the bay before coming around. Aubree was at the end of the dock, the skis already on, but she pushed off the dock and was bobbing in the water by the time we came slowly past her. Solange tossed the rope to her, landing it neatly over Aubree’s shoulder, the handle splashing in the water past her. A moment later, Aubree had the handles in her hands, the rope passing between the two skis sticking up in the water.

  “Okay,” Solange said. “She’s floating in the water, letting the life vest do it’s job. Her knees are bent, and the skis are at an ankle. She’ll keep her knees bent and lean back as we pull her from the water. After that, it’s balance. New skiers tend to make one of two mistakes. They either fall off to one side, or they let the boat pull themselves forward. The first is a matter of balance. The second is a matter of strength and determination.”

  “I think I understand.”

  Solange put the boat in gear, tightening the rope. Once it was taut, Aubree yelled, “Hit it!”

  Solange gave the boat its power. I watched as Aubree was dragged a short distance, then she was out of the water, standing on the two skis.

  “She did it!”

  “Of course she did,” Solange yelled back to me. She throttled back slightly, glancing at Aubree from time to time, but mostly she drove the boat.

  Aubree followed immediately behind the boat for a portion of the trip, but then I saw her lean, and she moved out from behind.