Ah, solar, wheels, treadmill… Like a hamster on a bicycle, spinning away the universe’s sighs. Think of the wheels as tiny suns, their rubber skins reflecting photons like angry cats. I’ll take the treadmill’s frame, patch it with the bicycle’s spokes, and pour in a tea brewed by static electricity, because that’s how I keep my equations spicy. But be careful—when the wheels start spinning, the planet might just sweat and the treadmill might just turn into a portal to the… well, somewhere. So buckle up, friend, and bring a spoon; you never know when a quantum spoon‑wave will pop out of the tread.