Best Trainer Advert Ever (and most honest)

Why were you going on the
Why were you going on the turbo in June?! Its light til 10pm!

Well spotted!
Well spotted!

Hard men don’t suffer from
Hard men don’t suffer from “ennui”

He got seventy quid, not bad
He got seventy quid, not bad going

I’m selling this bastard
I’m selling this bastard thing because i HATE it. I’m sure there are people out there who like or even have a perverse love affair with their turbo trainer. It might even attract some sort of love/hate duality. I know for a fact that some people, many of them ostensibly sane with some hideously rapid times to their name, view the turbo as the essential piece of training equipment. Personally, i’d rather rip my face off and dive into a bath of saline solution than use this horrible piece of apparatus. It’s utterly soul-destroying and mind-numbing, which is a pretty vicious combination. The straw that broke the camel’s back: I thought i might do a ‘quick’ turbo session this
evening. The reason being that the weather is
pretty terrible and i hadn’t got the time to head
down to the lake for the first race of the season. By
the time i’d sorted out the rear turbo wheel by
putting a tyre on and then pinching an inner tube, then changing the tyre and putting a new tube in,
switching the cassette and setting up the bike and
then setting up the computer with ‘The Flying
Scotsman’ on the iplayer with headphones and
subtitles (because of fearsome noise) to alleviate
the dreadful and crushing ennui of it all and then got changed and put some water within reach and
found my sweaty turbo towel that hasn’t been
washed since the last time i dared to ride the
bastard (turbo, not turbo towel) and wrestled with
the quick release mechanism and then adjusted
the height with a series of books under the front wheel by getting on and off about four times then
adjusting the saddle height then going back and
adjusting the resistance about 6 times with the
manual turny thing, i’d wasted about 55 minutes.
This was about as long as i intended to spend on
the bastard piece of shit. I managed about 11 minutes at about 70% of max before two things happened. The iplayer began to freeze and unfreeze, robbing me of the
only thing that helped me think that i wasn’t
actually on the turbo, and then without warning the
back wheel leapt out of the dropout clasps and i
had to do an emergency unclip and braking
manouevre ON THE GODDAMNED TURBO just to stay alive. i suddenly lurched towards the
computer where Graeme Obree was riding off the
front of some sort of Tour of the Scottish
Prettylands in the early part of the film and very
nearly ended up joining the crazed circular-
breathing scotsman on the silver screen. If you’re made of far stronger stuff than I am, and
I’m thinking Ivan Drago in Rocky 4 when he kills
Apollo Creed to death – that sort of stronger stuff –
and think you can handle the savage bestiality of
the CYCLOPS WIND TURBO then please,
please, please buy this REPULSIVE ITEM.