“Uh behhhb...I think this is a private road.”

I don’t speak any German, but that word definitely looked like 'private' without the 'e.'

We were following Google Maps’ biking directions from our campsite to the town of Xanten, where we could catch a train to Duisburg. The lovely paved cycle path we’d been cruising on had turned to gravel, then rocky double track, then something more washed out than road. At one point, Daniel waved his hand toward the right--he was warning me about a steep drop-off into a ditch below.

Even as he gave caution, though, he didn’t hesitate. He just kept riding.

I, of course, stopped. “Can we even go this way?” I called after his disappearing back, already bracing for an imaginary confrontation with an angry German farmer. But turning around would’ve added kilometers we didn’t have time for. So I followed: uncomfortable, nervous, hyper-aware that we weren’t supposed to be there. I kept glancing in my rearview mirror, half-expecting to see headlights barreling toward us.

This happens more often than I’d like to admit. I’m the rule-follower. I like structure, instructions, boundaries. Daniel’s more of a 'she’ll be right' guy (he is Australian, after all). He'd rather ask for forgiveness than for permission. These differences show up all the time--how we route, how we make decisions, how much risk we’re willing to take.

Most of the time, it works. We balance each other out, and honestly, we’re more similar than we are different. But sometimes it’s hard. Not because we argue, but because we experience the same moment so differently. One of us sees opportunity. The other sees friction.

We made it through the road just fine. No one showed up. We didn't get in any trouble. There was no drama. But our differences were still on display later, when we sat down over coffee and I said, “We should write about this as the time we trespassed.”

Daniel looked surprised.

“What? There’ll be a million of these.”

So here it is: the first time we trespassed on this bike trip.

Daniel probably won’t remember it.

I probably won’t forget it.

And that, in a nutshell, is what it’s like to do something like this as a couple.