I’ve become a helmet nag. After two bike accidents when wearing one prevented more serious injuries, it’s hard not to be a believer.
So I’ve developed this little routine: When I’m on one of my routes and see some biker coming at me without one, I tap mine with my knuckles and smile a second or two.
This summer I’ve seen more and more families on their bicycles, but I’ve also seen a lot of this: the kids wearing helmets and Mom or Dad without one. What’s that?
The other day when a helmet-less father leading his helmeted string of kids approached me on the trail, I blurted out to the last child in the procession: “Ask your dad where’s his helmet.”
None of my business? Of course, but I’d love to have been there to hear Dad’s explanation if the question was put to him.
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