James Bond spinning stationary bike

Ideal positioning of a fridge and a stationary bike.

When writing this blog, for some weird reason, all the time I tried to write stationery instead of the, in this case, correct spelling stationary. Stationery spinning could perhaps be related to spinning thread from stationery, or something, or someone getting stationery from a warehouse with a bicycle. Anyway, as I see it, stationary bike spinning is an excellent form of exercise; stationery spinners are paper tigers.

I’m just doing my daily stationary bike spinning at the same time watching a James Bond movie The spy who loved me, with Roger Moore and Barbara Bach. I usually watch TV when spinning, and in this way the profoundly running sweat, time, and festering underpants lose their significance. A moment ago, James Bond handed a fish to someone from his amphibious sports car that appeared from the sea in front of surprised sunbathers. Immediately, it just occurred to me whether James Bond ever would have demeaned himself to anything like what I’m presently doing. But if he had, what would have followed from that?

There of course is a chance Mr Q would have equipped him with an extraordinary bike, not to mention all Bond Girls spinning around him shaken but not stirred, yet. Definitely there would have been some mixed weaponry hidden in the framework of the bike, however, I don’t think guns are of any use in domestic warfare. Or, what about a moving stationary bike...don’t be stupid Esa. In my opinion, James Bond should have had a bike with much more sophisticated gadgets. For the next Bond movie, I have a couple of suggestions that late Mr Broccoli most likely would have appreciated in his time.

When spinning my bike, I of course follow the time on the monitor in front of my eyes. There also is a display for speed, distance, burnt calories and pulse. Anyway, something is missing. First of all, alongside with an indicator for calories, there should be a display where burnt calories are translated into e.g. sausages. Sausages, in my opinion, speak an international language that all men understand; men speaking sausages may be another story. Seeing Mattheson wursts pass your eyes gives you an extra boost and motivation. Also,  when visiting the fridge the next time after biking, your conscience is much lighter. Sophisticated gauges of course have a selection table where calories are translated into sandwiches, beer, chicken legs, pizza slices, or seven course meals, but I prefer sausages.

Now, as I mentioned a fridge, it occurred to me that some six or more years ago in Honolulu I bumped into something worth mentioning. In our hotel room, there was an extremely clever mini-bar that, based on a bar code reader, immediately knew when something was removed for consumption. This method could be applied to a fridge that naturally is situated right next to a stationary bike. The sausage reader of the fridge would be connected to the sausage translator display on the bike by infrared beam, or blue, yellow, or green tooth, whatever. Now, when exercising, you could directly read your recent sausage consumption and destroy it. First you destroy all eaten sausages, then bottles of beer etc. Considering seven course meals, the things might get a bit complicated as the readers should be installed at restaurant doors. Well, Mr Q surely would have fabricated a portable one at least for Commander Bond’s disposal.

If this concept could be extended to the time spent on a sofa, I don’t know, but I’m only a dentist. On the other hand, when the sausages and other consumed stimulants have been burnt by spinning, a spring installed to the saddle of the bike would ingeniously return you to the precious sofa. A true precision tool, only waiting for inventing.

James Bond's stationary bike would naturally have a powerful aggregate for producing electricity, not only for the display, but also for forceful headlights and probably the TV too. I don’t know what the headlights would be good for, but again I’m only a dentist. Using this power solely for the needs of a fridge is not a good idea because warm lager and mouldy sausages are not that delicious. On the other hand, if 007, 008, 009 etc. combined their efforts and used the bike in turns, perhaps even this innovation would work. In military circles there is a plenty of manpower and a 007-sort-of-bike, or lots of them, could help in maintaining the power supply of garrisons. A spinning rota on a notice board in the barracks could raise an eyebrow or two.

Deep in these creative thoughts I realize that the sound track melody of the movie, presented by Carly Simon, has died down. Now I can hear the front door open and close. No, it is not Barbara Bach; my wife Pirjo has returned from work. A Bike Girl is on the premises.