Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Rude Bike

Husband and I purchased a stationary bike for Christmas. Now, isn’t that romantic? A Christmas present that is right up there with a two-bag vacuum cleaner or abs flattener. Personally, I like to walk because the butt bones don’t get bruised; however, we must work our heart in a variety of ways. Since husband is the more fit of the family, he of course assembled the bike and started riding right away.

As a side note, the assembly process was interesting because there were no written directions on how to put the bike together – only diagrams and drawings. I think that’s a statement on the current state of education in our country. Kids don’t know how to read, so the only way they are going to survive in this world is to look at pictures.

Yesterday, husband asked me if I had been on the bike yet. When I answered “no,” he gave me that look that said, “I knew it, you’ll never ride it.” To prove him wrong, today was my inaugural ride on our new exercise vehicle, fresh still with the new bike smell. I adjusted the seat and sat upon the fine vinyl. The bike immediately knew there was a new user on its throne, probably because my butt is a lot larger than husband’s skinny ass. I couldn’t just press “Start,” no, it started asking all these personal questions:

Target Weight
Blood Type
Mother’s Maiden Name
Last time I had an enema

After about 5 minutes of this crap, I unplugged the nosey bitch and held down the “reset” button. I finally fooled it and started my ride. After all, I am human, I can out wit a hunk of metal.

I had a nice journey, imagining myself by the river and through the woods, pedaling to the beat of Billy Joel. Thirty minutes and 7 miles later, I had only burned 150 calories. That’s only half a glass of chocolate milk. Damn. When I dismounted, I walked like I had just given birth, and my legs weren’t even sore. At least when I walk the treadmill I work up a little sweat.

Guess I’ll have to answer all those rude questions to make sure I get my money’s worth out of this digital ride.

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