A Mother's Day Bike Ride (Guest Post)

(this is a guest post by Stephen Roullier, better known to Midnight Ridazz as Mr. Rollers, about a uniquely Westside biking Mother’s Day. If you would like to guest post contact alexcthompson@gmail.com)

No doubt inspired by my near constant presence on a bike these days, my Mom mentioned to me recently that she’d like to try riding a bike sometime. My Mom, while in pretty decent health, is 79 years old and claims that she hasn’t been on a bike since way before I was born, but who am I to deny my dear old Mum her wish?

I wasn’t quite sure at first how to make this wish a reality, but then I remembered the bike rental facilities along the bike path in Venice and that they had a variety of bikes including tricycles, which I thought might be a good idea for someone who hasn’t balanced on a bike in a long time.

Mother’s Day was soon upon us and it seemed like that would be the ideal time to put such a plan into action. Having realized some years back that there’s an inevitable change in most child-parent relationships from being the one taken care of to the one doing the care taking, I feel a strong sense of responsibility for my Mother, and so I undertook this mission with the appropriate sense of concern and protection.

Having seen tandems, some with parents on the back, on several of the rides I’ve been on lately, it occurred to me that if they rented tandems also, this might be an even better solution. We could stay together and I wouldn’t have to worry about keeping an eye on her or speeding ahead and losing her.

Alice and I ordered four picnic lunches from Gelson’s, got our Moms in the car and headed for the beach. We arrived in Venice just before noon and parked in the lot at the end of Washington. Traffic seemed light; I figured the heavy marine layer and the Mother’s Day brunch rush probably made for a lighter than normal beach turnout.

At the rental shed, we briefly looked over a tricycle and quickly realized it didn’t fit her very well, and then I saw a few Schwinn beach cruiser tandems that looked like they’d be just the ticket. My only previous experience on a tandem had been brief, riding stoker when I was about ten, and I remember it being a combination of thrilling and terrifying; I’ve learned over the years that I like being in control. After signing our names and the helmet waiver, and surrendering my driver’s license and credit card, we were in temporary possession of tandem. I cranked my seat up a little higher, got Mom situated as stoker, gave her a few simple instructions, and off we went, heading north.

After getting accustomed to the extra bulk and length of the tandem and the idea of having someone right behind me, I quickly gained confidence, although I was still cautious about turning and stopping. After I raised the seat even higher, we soon gained speed and were rarely passed by the other casual cyclists on the path. Of course, the only strenuous thing about riding on the beach path is avoiding hazards like joggers, skaters, tourists, pedestrians, patches of sand, and exceptionally slow moving and clueless weekend bikers. I’ve ridden that stretch of bike path enough to realize that it doesn’t do any good to try to correct everyone, so I just try to roll with it and reserve my verbal scorn for only the most egregious violators.

Even for a relatively quiet Sunday at the beach, there were sights everywhere: the boardwalk on our right and the sand and ocean on our left, but I kept my concentration on the task at hand and let my Mom take in the scenery. She sang “A Bicycle Built for Two” as we rolled along, then asked me if I knew the song. Of course I do; I think I may even remember her singing it when I was a child. It has an added poignancy because my Grandmother’s name was Daisy.

We crossed over into Santa Monica, went under the pier and finally turned around about a half mile north, near the California Incline. We stopped at Arlington West, where we didn’t have to say much – our politics are similar enough – and then a little further south to check out a large kite: a mouse being chased by a cat, being chased by a dog, the whole thing held aloft by a rainbow. We reunited with Alice and her Mom in Venice, where we ate lox and bagels on some rather funky picnic tables and took in the sights and sounds of the Venice boardwalk on a Sunday afternoon.

We got back on the tandem after lunch and returned it, where I had to patiently explain to the attendant that 12 noon to 1:45 was and hour and 45 minutes, not two hours and 45 minutes, paid the rental fee and retrieved my driver’s license and credit card.

It’s not always that a plan comes to fruition so perfectly. Along with having the pleasure and satisfaction of being able to do something for someone who has done so much for me, I had thoroughly enjoyed the experience myself. I was filled with peace and good feelings.

Of course, my Mom said, “That was great; can we do that again some time?” I think I may keep my eyes open for an affordable tandem. We could always take it over to the L.A River path; it’s a lot closer and I don’t have to watch out for tourists.

(Photos by Stephen Roullier)