Freed: Assembling my exercise bike is giving me the wrong kind of workout

Biking has been dangerous this snowy winter, so I decided to boost my exercise by buying a stationary fitness bike, in a Black Friday sale. 

The only problem was I had to assemble it myself and construction isn’t my specialty. Destruction is. 

Fortunately, while many fitness bikes take five hours to assemble, this model said: “Easy to assemble on your own in under 30 minutes.”

So I figured I could manage it in a couple of hours. 

Guys are supposed to be handymen who are nuts about bolts. But for me, assembling or repairing anything is as intimidating as brain surgery.   

My hands have the fine motor skills of a penguin’s flippers. My brain the mechanical instinct of a bear handed a fishing rod. 

Friends call me Mr. Don’t-Fix-It, because anything I fix winds up more broken. So over the years I’ve gradually stopped repairing anything, which seems to suit everyone.  

But it’s not without guilt. Deep inside, my inner handyman hisses contempt, taunting me for my inadequacy:

“Why can’t you change a fuse? A sink washer? A light bulb? Are you a man, or a klutz?”

Lately, there’s been much written about how it’s important to challenge your aging brain with new skills. So this old dog was determined to learn new tricks, and the exercise bike was a chance at redemption.  

When the giant box arrived on my porch, things went surprisingly smoothly, especially:  

Step 1: “Open box using box cutters. Cut away Styrofoam packaging, then tilt box and release bike frame.”   

BINGO! It slid right out and I was on my way. Handyman Josh! 

Step 2 was trickier. I’d expected five or 10 pieces and several screws, but there were over 20 major parts, 45 screws, nuts and washers and various dangling electronic wires. It looked like a gigantic jigsaw puzzle, and I rarely finished those as a kid. 

Worse, the different fasteners came in numerous plastic containers, with tiny print descriptions like “#37 square neck bolt M862 X4 plus cap nut M8S13 X4.”

But that’s only if you could read the microscopic letters.  

Even wearing my glasses, with the room lights on, in broad daylight, my aging eyes couldn’t see these minuscule letters clearly. I had to use my phone’s flashlight throughout, as in restaurants to read tiny print menus.  

Only this menu had items like: “Lock seat cushion #72 to welded seat #80 with hexagon socket pan head bolts #12 and washer #71.”

I’m sure Mr. and Mrs. Fix-It types are already scoffing: “Oh yeah, the M8 hexagon socket pan head bolt —  child’s play.” But I’ve always resented these people.  

You’re at the beach and your hotel chair snaps. But before you can grab another one, they’ve yanked a Swiss Army knife out of their bathing suit and fused your chair back together with their portable welder, making you feel like a seven-year-old.  

Step 3: Some bike parts weigh over 10 kilograms, so you must grip them in one hand while fastening nuts and bolts with the other. But which third hand do you use to hold the washers in place? 

So the washers (and bolts) kept falling on the floor, again and again, then rolling under the desk, bureau and couch.  

I spent lots of time on my stomach with my flashlight, my favourite tool, peering under furniture looking for them. 

Luckily, 90 minutes into my efforts, a friend dropped by and volunteered to hold the bike parts while I fastened bolts. So I only dropped the washers another 10 times instead of 20, but at least we had two pairs of eyes to find them. 

Together, we eventually managed Step 4: “Push umbrella handle knob #77 through washer #76, then install adjustment tube #69 onto main frame #42 with hexagon socket pan head bolts #70.”

By then, we both needed Advils to ease our aching heads. 

When my friend finally left, we’d done over five hours of collective work and assembled a quarter of the 30-minutes-to-assemble bike. Since then, I’ve done four more hours and it’s still a work in progress.  

Yes, I’ve watched the online how-to-assemble video: a quadruple-speed blur of part charts, arrows and a pair of hands assembling pieces faster than I can find pickles in the fridge.  

My next mission is Step 5: “Remove cross pan screw #81 and arc washer #82, pre-locked on resistance-adjusting knob #61 and …” 

HELP! 

The other day while “connecting resistance adjusting knob #82 to handlebar post #5,” the 15-kilogram main frame #42 fell on my foot. 

So now my toe hurts along with my head. 

There are still a dozen leftover parts and countless nuts ’n’ bolts I’ve somehow mixed up, though it is beginning to dimly resemble the online picture.  

I could hire someone to take over, but they’d probably charge me twice as much to undo what I’ve already done. 

So onward I go, training my sprained brain. But whatever happens, at least the bike is serving its purpose. 

Between crawling around searching for washers and lifting the heavy main frame 50 times, I’m getting plenty of exercise from my exercise bike. 

It should last till real biking season starts in spring.  

Happy new year, all!

joshfreed49@gmail.com

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