As the Flying Spaghetti Monster is my Witness

I will NEVER ride an exercise bike or walk on a treadmill (unless it's for physical therapy after I fall and break something while riding a real bike, as I did the last time I rode a real bike) AGAIN.

I realized over the weekend that the reason I avoid going to the gym is that I HATE, HATE, HATE riding exercise bikes and, even MORE RED HOT HATES, walking on treadmills. (Has no one noticed that they don't GO anyplace on these things?) I was vindicated in this hate when I went to the Dublin Gaol last year and discovered that early treadmills were used as punishment in jails and prisons. HAH! I knew it! Treadmills are from h*ll!!!

So this weekend I bought a new bike to replace the bike that tried to kill me. I sold that evil thing.

This is my new bike, bought after many journeys on several models around the bike store parking lot.

It's so pretty. 

And after I showed the salesman this:

the scar from the broken wrist surgery that I needed after my last bike ride on Killer Bike, I made him promise that I was buying the proper size bike for me.

So off I go, but I will not be riding on the Forsyth County Greenway that crosses over swampland. Swamps don't provide the cushioning you might expect. Trust me on this.