Last month I asked for advice about bicycle trainers, but after reading all the comments decided not to get one after all. It was the promise of horrific boredom that dissuaded me: I didn't want to get a trainer and then end up never using it. But several blizzards and several yards of snow later, I once again found myself climbing the walls and thinking that any way to be on my roadbike would surely do. My birthday is coming up, and so I asked the Co-Habitant to get me a trainer as an early gift - requesting that he do all the obsessive gadget research himself, and just present me with it as soon as possible.
He was suspicious at first. "You want a trainer. For your birthday? Are you sure that's a sufficiently ...romantic gift?"
"It's a fine gift. Totally romantic. Just get it for me, please."
Wheelworks in Somerville, MA (they had four left as of last week), and the opportunity was ceased. It is lime green and in no way blends in with any normal household decor. It is a good thing we have a "bohemian" apartment where pretty much anything goes, including a bike plugged into a neon contraption in the middle of the bedroom.