do you remember tagalong bikes?

i remember being young and sitting on the back seat. whoever was in front, usually an adult, they’d be the ones to steer. they’d be the ones to pedal. they would pedal and pedal to get us up the hill or around a corner.

it was joyous. especially as a kid in the backseat. i would move my little legs and pretend to be contributing. i also remember nearing a turn and allocating my imagination to pretend that i was steering, but it didn’t matter. i could sit there all day and do nothing. i loved the wind in my hair from the speed we were going. we’d go up a hill and i would put in zero effort to contribute to the work. i only ever got annoyed by the fact that the person in the front would get tired, and the ride would get cut short or crawl at a snails pace.

then i grew up. and i realized i’m on a tagalong again. the only difference is that i’m in the front and i’m in the back.

in the front seat is the half of me that is straining herself to move forward. breaking a sweat to get up the hill. steering to new paths and around new corners. gripping the handle bars to conduct herself in a progressive way.

and in the back seat, it’s the other half of me. it’s the part of me that is just sitting there. it’s the part of me that acknowledges that i’m not really doing anything to move on. holding the handlebars but not really changing my patterns. acknowledging the efforts of my better half, but not acting accordingly.

in the front seat, i wonder how fast i could go if the back seat would contribute. i wonder how far i could go. how many corners i could turn. i wonder how many hills i could climb.

this is not a tagalong bike. this is also a very old picture of me.