Meet Skunk

One day, not so long ago, I was walking down Cambridge street when I noticed an old treadmill thrown in the trash. It was a social occasion, so I resisted the urge to throw myself into the trash, but I made a mental vow to return at the earliest possible opportunity.

Later that night found me working at MITERS, rapidly switching between toilet-based water filters, Geekeyboard keys, and general MITERS rockingness. Around four AM, I thought I could use a change of scenery, so I borrowed Robot's bike and yoke, hitched the yoke up with the ubiquitous MITERS inner tubes, and took off in search of a Treadmill in Distress.

Mere minutes later, I was standing on a deserted Cambridge street, trying to regain feeling in my fingers. I hauled the massive yoke around and wrestled the treadmill up onto it. A few inner tubes later, it was tentatively attached, and I wobbled down the road, towing a hundred or so pounds of metal and wires. A few Cambridge vampires were still roaming the streets, and they took a moment from their blood-lust to stare at the man straining against his bike to drag a treadmill behind him. I smiled and waved cheerfully.

Ten minutes later, back at MITERS, I pop open the treadmill's hood and take a look inside. Pretty simple. Just a 120VAC motor with a belt drive, and then a roller driving the tread, with a passive roller on the back.

That friday, at the building party, I figured it was time to learn to weld. MITERS has a MIG welder, and so I bugged one of the more proficient guys to show me the basics. A couple hours later, Xerxes and I had welded a wheel under the back roller as a friction driven wheel. We entertained outselves by riding the beast up and down the hallowed hallways of N52 until the extension cord pulled out of the socket.

However, we lacked a good turning method. The next building party, Xerxes and I took a sawsall to an old bike frame, cutting off the front wheel and fork. A little welding later, and we had a steering wheel on the front of the bike. After a little discussion with some Sculs, we decided that clearly, the best kind of steering option would be large chopper handlebars made out of conduit.

A crowd gathered to watch and ride the beast down the hall, hopping from outlet to outlet. We decided, in honor of the dirt stripe that the back wheel left on the belt, that the beast should be named Skunk.