Tandumb
Please murder me if you ever see me riding a tandem bicycle, even if I am doing it ironically. 
There is NOTHING good or fun about riding one of those, not even looking at the person’s ass in front of you. What is the draw to them? With the amount of money you spend on one you can buy, get this, two bikes! And, wait for it . . . ride them at the same time without having to toe(w) the line for some lazy bones! (Yeah, I'm talking to you granny).
Maybe I am not taking into consideration the whole bonding experience that occurs while riding on a bike with someone because of painful memories of my youth that are associated with dual bike riding. The precise memories? When my older brother and I would ride on the same bike and he would make me pedal us both (mind you he is six years older than me), or even better, steer us into strangers’ driveways and pull us up to their front door, where he would then proceed to hop off the bike and leave me there to fend for myself. But, the best bike sharing experience with my brother? It would have to be when he would steer us over to the creepiest house in the neighborhood; every hood has one (well, maybe not every, I do come from humble beginnings, folks).
The house he would pull up to had overgrown shrubbery, non-operational cars in the driveway, peeling paint, and on the porch an open empty refrigerator (really, why?). We would never see anyone coming in or out but always heard barking dogs non-stop. Hmm, curious. My brother would inch the bike up slowly onto the home’s property and this inching action alone implied that there was a definite possibility that he would steer us directly into the pit of hell that was before us.
Back then I didn’t know what hell was exactly, but I knew that they sacrificed small animals and infants in that home and would probably cut off my Barbie’s hair, which is hell in any five year old girl’s life.
I have said all this just to say that I despise tandem bicycles and they lead to nothing good. They only generate ‘Nam like flashbacks of youth. That is all.
*A caveat: I do not think that my brother scarred me for life with his escapades, looking back, I believe that such experiences as those outlined above helped me to develop my twisted skew on life. Really, I know few that can recall such absurd memories of childhood that make them laugh out loud.
There is NOTHING good or fun about riding one of those, not even looking at the person’s ass in front of you. What is the draw to them? With the amount of money you spend on one you can buy, get this, two bikes! And, wait for it . . . ride them at the same time without having to toe(w) the line for some lazy bones! (Yeah, I'm talking to you granny).
Maybe I am not taking into consideration the whole bonding experience that occurs while riding on a bike with someone because of painful memories of my youth that are associated with dual bike riding. The precise memories? When my older brother and I would ride on the same bike and he would make me pedal us both (mind you he is six years older than me), or even better, steer us into strangers’ driveways and pull us up to their front door, where he would then proceed to hop off the bike and leave me there to fend for myself. But, the best bike sharing experience with my brother? It would have to be when he would steer us over to the creepiest house in the neighborhood; every hood has one (well, maybe not every, I do come from humble beginnings, folks).
The house he would pull up to had overgrown shrubbery, non-operational cars in the driveway, peeling paint, and on the porch an open empty refrigerator (really, why?). We would never see anyone coming in or out but always heard barking dogs non-stop. Hmm, curious. My brother would inch the bike up slowly onto the home’s property and this inching action alone implied that there was a definite possibility that he would steer us directly into the pit of hell that was before us.
Back then I didn’t know what hell was exactly, but I knew that they sacrificed small animals and infants in that home and would probably cut off my Barbie’s hair, which is hell in any five year old girl’s life.
I have said all this just to say that I despise tandem bicycles and they lead to nothing good. They only generate ‘Nam like flashbacks of youth. That is all.
*A caveat: I do not think that my brother scarred me for life with his escapades, looking back, I believe that such experiences as those outlined above helped me to develop my twisted skew on life. Really, I know few that can recall such absurd memories of childhood that make them laugh out loud.
posted by classyandfancy at 10:25 PM
5 Comments:
I once knew a newlywed couple from Minnesota who tandem biked all the way across the country - from Virginia to Oregon. I wondder how long the marriage lasted.
Growing up there was this older fat girl named Alice who lived down the block and had a tandem bike. She would offer to ride us around. The only time I took her up on her offer, I had to stare at her fat ass (which sorta drooped down the sides of her seat) and it scarred me for life. I was 6 years old and I still remember.
PS - love the new heading!
Cherry- I think once the couple made it to Oregon one of them hopped off and said to the other, "Ride your ass back to VA, I'm staying here to pump gas at a filling station where in order to get this trip permanently out of my mind, I will proceed to cover myself in petrol and light myself on fire."
Now, "Back to Alice & her big ol' butt" . . . so nice of you to show some love to the gal. If only she had a tandem elliptical and/or stair master machine, you could have helped her out with that seat overflow business. Wait, a tandem elliptical or stair master? What was I thinking? That might have been even more damaging to the psyche.
Great post, classy! Where did you find that run-down house picture? Is that Boo Radley's house? Cherry, are you shitting me about that newlywed couple? That is the worst idea I've ever heard of. DRIVING across the country with a chick would suck bad enough . . .
Dr. Ken-The decrepit house pic came up from a random search. The real house was more set back and had some semblance of a fence around it. Unlike Jem, I never mustered the courage to actually touch the house.
And, hey! I don't think that driving cross country with a broad would be that bad. As long as she didn't talk during the whole trip, let me control the ipod, and bought me flapjacks. Hmm . . okay, you might have a point there.
Classy:
I know we all have lives and all* but we're only posting once a week now? WTF??
* (OK,I don't but I'm trying.)
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