The second saddle

An original literary non-fiction-style account of a first journey on the rear seat of a tandem bicycle.

I volunteered for the front seat. My friend Leila shook her head. She knew the route, and this was her tandem. I had been cycling for years; she had been riding this particular machine for years. I recognised the distinction without enjoying it. From the second saddle, my view consisted largely of her jacket and a narrow strip of road on either side.

At the first junction, I tried to look past her shoulder. The bicycle wobbled as I leaned. She asked me to stay centred and told me what she could see ahead. I found this irritatingly reassuring. When she said 'slowing', I had already pressed against a pedal. We lurched, stopped and began again after agreeing on a few words we would both use.

For the next mile, I concentrated on detecting mistakes. A lane opened to our left, and I almost called out before she said we were passing it because of loose gravel. She announced a rough patch I had not yet seen. My feet continued turning with hers. Nothing required me to prove that I could have managed the ride alone.

At a café, she offered to exchange seats. Through the window, I could see the hill that came next. I asked her how steep it was. She described the climb and said that she would call before we changed pace. Then she asked whether I wanted another explanation of the route or another cup of tea.

We left with me still behind her. Halfway up the hill, she called for a slower rhythm. This time I followed it without first trying to make my own. At the summit, we were both breathing hard. I could not have steered us there from the rear saddle. She could not have supplied both our efforts from the front.

Explain why the narrator chooses to remain on the rear seat after initially wanting to sit at the front.