Tandem Biking in San Francisco

by Laurie Wells — April 16, 2007

With a good breakfast in our bellies, my husband and I set out to explore San Francisco by bike. Knowing our penchant for experiencing a new place by seeing as much of it as possible, a few friends had recommended renting bikes and riding along the edge of the city and over Golden Gate Bridge, and then enjoying the views from Sausalito before catching the ferry back across the bay. With this itinerary in mind, I had agreed to spend one of our few days in the city slowly pedaling along and enjoying the natural beauty of the landscape.

I should have known better. Caught up in the romanticism of renting a tandem and excited at the idea that I could just sightsee from the back without having to pay attention, I failed to recognize that sharing a bike meant going the speed and distance of Jason's choosing. His ambition generally leads to my exhaustion.

But, as we started out from the rental store, optimism won out and I giggled at the site of us as we pushed away from the curb. In a short time, we were riding along the water's edge, enjoying the sight of the boats bobbing in the bay and--much to my surprise--super-athlete swimmers working hard against the current. It took a few times for us to get down the pattern of shifting, as my husband would call out "Down, down again," to indicate we were, of course, downshifting or "Up, we need to go up!" for the opposite. When I missed my cue, my feet would fly off the pedals, and he would have to stop pedaling long enough for me to remount. This all became very funny when we attempted our first hill, which required effort from both us and was all the more difficult because I couldn't stop laughing.

The laughter soon changed to heavy breathing, as my Jason's competitive nature took control, and we started passing other sightseers and even a few spandex-clad riders. Not content to simply ride to and over the bridge, I longingly looked back at its beauty as we pumped hard over the hill and past. "Might as well see as much of the city as we can," he hollered back. Apparently this was not a committee decision.

Things soon took a turn for ridiculous, as we were seriously vertical, headed up what appeared to be a wall of asphalt looming in front of us. People were actually staring at the comical site of two tourists trying to ride a tandem over these hills. This just egged on my other half--the fact that we live at the base of the Rockies made him sure that we could better handle the piddly bumps these flat-landers called hills.

The rest of the morning was a bit of a blur, seen somewhat hazily through the sweat-induced fog of my sunglasses. I know we rode along the Pacific beach, as I remember the smell of the ocean, and I recollect being envious of the picnickers lounging in the park. By the time we eventually reached and crossed the bridge, the weather had turned, and a cold wind pushed us to pedal quickly to the other side. Motivated by the singular thought of enjoying a beer and maybe even some sushi in Sausalito, I pushed my pink Converse sneaks to the pedals.

But a funny thing happened when we reached the other side of the bridge. I wasn't tired anymore. The sun was shining and we had just a short ways to ride to reach town, but I felt light--perhaps light-headed--and just glad to be out sharing this amusing experience with my husband. Of course, we didn't have time for the reward of a relaxing drink-and-food stop, as we had to immediately catch the ferry back in order to return the bikes before closing time at the rental store. But as we sipped beers on the top deck and pondered a stay at Alcatraz, I felt pretty lucky to have seen as much as we had and to have laughed as hard as we did. Of course, I would never admit that to Jason.