Hello, people of the world. I’d like to share my latest adventure with you. (No, this has nothing to do with books, writing, or spammy blog posts begging you to buy my stuff. What? Did you just audibly sigh in relief? Geez…I’m not THAT bad.)
This blog post is a story of my latest purchase at a rummage sale. In case you weren’t aware, my husband and I are addicted to seeking out estate sales, rummage sales, and thrift stores. We search for hidden treasures to resell on Ebay and Craigslist. No, we have not discovered any Picasso Paintings or buried pirate treasure yet. If I do, trust me, you’ll be the first to know.
Here’s our strategy: my husband combs through the newspaper and Craiglist, searching for the best sales. Usually estate sales yield more rewards than rummage sales. I also love going in people’s houses and seeing old décor from 1974. Last week we went into an average house that appeared to have belonged to a kindly old lady. Then you entered the basement. Holy shit! Party Central! There were colored strobe lights on the ceiling, a MASSIVE bar area that would have given any pub a run for its’ money, and tons of party decorations. If those walls could talk…they would write a story better than anything I could have come up with. But I digress. We’re actually here to talk about Exercise Bikes. This is the reason my books have 125,000 words. I can’t stay focused.
During a trip to a different estate sale roughly two weeks ago, I stumbled upon a recumbent exercise bike in someone’s basement. Let me show you a photo so you can understand. Evidently a recumbent bike is different from a normal exercise bike because the pedals are situated at a different angle.
It looks pretty darn close to this.
So the bike had a price tag of ten dollars. In most cases, there are always exercise machines sitting in someone’s basement because people don’t ever actually USE them. People start with great intentions of getting fit and changing their lives. That never happens. So this particular bike looked brand new and even had the COBWEBS to signify how often it was put into service. It had a fancy battery operated display that showed progress around a lighted track so you could watch as you pedaled. It also showed speed, distance traveled, and calories burned.
One of my friends has this type of exercise bike and I know they cost a LOT more money than the standard bike. So I knew it was a bargain at ten dollars. I immediately motioned for my husband to come over and showed him my find. He was unimpressed at the prospect of having to carry the damn thing up the stairs. I explained that we absolutely needed this so I could be cool like my friend, get fit and muscular, and that I would totally 100% use it ALL THE TIME. Of course he knew better, but he merely asked, “Where are you going to put it?”
This is a valid question. He must have known that if it went down to our basement, I would never use it. So I told him that I would put it in our spare bedroom (it’s not really a bedroom, but actually an “office” because it has a computer and a desk. It’s actually the desk that he gave to an ex-girlfriend as a present when she graduated college. She never took it, so he’s had it for the past THIRTY YEARS. Yes, I hate that fucking desk. Yes, I plan to smash it with an axe the first chance I get. No, I have not had a chance in the twenty years that we’ve been together. One of these days though…oh yeah….you WATCH OUT!).
I explained that I could pedal my fancy bike while I read magazines, or plotted out new story ideas, or did anything else creative like that. He knows I love to read, so I think that helped sell him on the idea.
I stood guard by the bike so no one else could snap it up, while my husband went to inform the lady that it was indeed sold. He likes to dicker on price and see what kind of a deal he can get. I would have been happy to pay the full ten dollars, but he did no such thing.
He came back downstairs and happily informed me that he got an even BETTER deal on the price.
HIM: “I told the lady that we might be interested in the bike for the right price.”
ME: “You got it for LESS than ten dollars?”
HIM: “How does a dollar sound?”
ME: “No fucking way!”
So…we got the bike for a dollar, I was extremely excited and texted my friend about the deal of the CENTURY, and my new shiny cobwebbed toy found a home in my office.
But the story doesn’t end there. Because that would be boring.
I adjusted it to my perfect foot length so I could reach the pedals comfortably. The display did not work because it needed a new battery. No problem. I went and got some fresh batteries. What? You need a screwdriver to remove the battery holder plate because it’s in a totally inconvenient location? WHATEVER. So I huffed and puffed and contorted myself to unscrew, replace the batteries, and rescrew. My husband jokingly said, “That’s probably the most exercise you’ll get out of that damn thing.”
Yes, he knows me too well.
So, batteries carefully in place, I started pedaling my ass off. After being totally impressed with the speed in which I was whizzing around the track….which seemed too good to be true….I realized it was in KILOMETERS and not MILES. Damn it! I pulled out the book (because this gem actually came with the ORIGINAL owner’s manual) and discovered how to fix the display to show miles. Success? WRONG! To get the crap-heap to change the display, I had to reboot the system. What does this involve? Any guesses? If you said, “Take out the battery,” then you were correct.
Swear. Get screwdriver. Take out battery. Find hidden switch on back of bike. Flip switch to say Miles and not Kilometers. Swear some more. Replace the battery. Screw in the screws. Swear some more.
Now I’m FINALLY ready to do this properly.
Did we live happily ever after? Fuck no! What’s the problem now? Evidently at the tender age of 40, my body decides it does not WANT to exercise and my damn knee started popping.
Well I’m sure as hell not going to blow out my knee and spend thousands of dollars for some fancy bionic knee surgery so I can become a test subject experiment and get filled with lead like I’m fucking Wolverine. (Ok…adamantium is not lead, and it would actually be freaking AWESOME to have Wolverine claws pop out, but that’s neither here nor there.)
Obviously I made the tough decision to sell the exercise bike.
Yes, I’m lazy.
Yes, I put the bike on Craigslist.
Yes, I sold it within TWENTY-FOUR HOURS of the listing and made a sweet profit.
I sold that bike for a whopping $30.
I’m that much closer to my retirement home in Hawaii.
And we all lived happily ever after.
Thank you for reading and have a great day!