Ice Cream Machine
Readers! What follows is strangely eerie and alarming, but it's impossible to put your finger on why. Judge for yourself.
If you put your bicycle upside down and turned the pedals, it was an ice cream making machine.
You could produce any flavour. Vanilla was popular, as was chocolate.
I still pretend to make ice cream this way as a 41 year old man, with my £1500 racing bike. My wife kindly agrees to collude with this conceit, pretending to consume and enjoy my wares. Even when, after she's finished her cornet, I pretend that it was made with poo (chocolate), wee (vanilla) or period (raspberry). I have even sold her a Neapolitan.
If you put your bicycle upside down and turned the pedals, it was an ice cream making machine.
You could produce any flavour. Vanilla was popular, as was chocolate.
I still pretend to make ice cream this way as a 41 year old man, with my £1500 racing bike. My wife kindly agrees to collude with this conceit, pretending to consume and enjoy my wares. Even when, after she's finished her cornet, I pretend that it was made with poo (chocolate), wee (vanilla) or period (raspberry). I have even sold her a Neapolitan.
written by Ma*cu* Jayu*, approved by Conor
Another weirdo writes:
When I turned my BMX upside down, it churned butter. So it appears that different bikes can produce different dairy products. Thankfully, I didn't know back then, so I wasn't upset at missing out on unlimited supplies of ice cream.
Did your bike make cheese? Perhaps it became the 'Magical Milkshake Machine' at the flick of an imaginary switch. Why don't you form some sort of club? - Ponky
When I turned my BMX upside down, it churned butter. So it appears that different bikes can produce different dairy products. Thankfully, I didn't know back then, so I wasn't upset at missing out on unlimited supplies of ice cream.
Did your bike make cheese? Perhaps it became the 'Magical Milkshake Machine' at the flick of an imaginary switch. Why don't you form some sort of club? - Ponky
written by an*nymo*s use*, approved by Ponky
Tony took time out of his busy schedule torturing small mammals to share this pearl of two-wheeled wisdom.
My bike made pain. The spinning, lumpy motor cross tyres when spinning at full revs created such a lethal weapon that its victims eyes were a sight to behold as henchmen forced their tear stained faces towards it. All the time I cranked the pedals faster like the winding of a Spanish Inquisition musical box. The whole torture was made all the more pleasurable by the dynamo attached to my rear tyre which would make the bike lights glow brightly when the revolutions were high enough to remove skin!
My bike made pain. The spinning, lumpy motor cross tyres when spinning at full revs created such a lethal weapon that its victims eyes were a sight to behold as henchmen forced their tear stained faces towards it. All the time I cranked the pedals faster like the winding of a Spanish Inquisition musical box. The whole torture was made all the more pleasurable by the dynamo attached to my rear tyre which would make the bike lights glow brightly when the revolutions were high enough to remove skin!
written by To*y Gr*en, approved by Phil