Ticket to ride

A few days ago, K dugged up from his dad's garrage an old exercise bike. His dad probably bought it in the 90's but to me it looked like a remnant of the 1920's.

Anyway, K cleaned it up, brought it home and is now occupying a proud corner in the bedroom. It is supposed to be for ME, so I could get back 'in shape', as if I don't have a shape at all!

So after letting the boys play with it (they clocked up 420 miles pedalling with their hands), I found out it couldn't even be reset. No surprise there. It's 1920's remember?

And the bloody noise it makes... sounds like chainsawing a parched dry treetrunk with my thigh underneath.