This one’s a bit more amusing, but still in keeping with International Helmet Awareness Day/Week/Year.
Many, many years ago, in the dawn of the world, Fang, my ex, was a professional biker. Bicyclist. Not motorcycles. His idea of a lovely vacation was to bike a circuit – DC to Jacksonville (FL) to New Orleans (LA) to Chicago (IL) and back to DC. On a bike. I never said he was sane. Just entertaining.
Anyway, right before we married, one of the few things I insisted on was that he must always – without exception – wear a helmet when he rode. The threat of consequences for non-compliance was private, but effective. Read Lysistrata.
So, he takes off on one of these rides and calls me (as usual) in the evening. He wanted to thank me for making him wear a helmet. Apparently, he’d taken a detour south since he’d never been to the Everglades and wanted to tour where a man can hide and never be found and have no fear of the bayin’ hound … So, just before dark, he biked around a sharp curve and collided with a log in the road. Went head over heels (not his words), landed (fortunately) on the helmet, got up, picked up his bike, and discovered that it wasn’t a log. The gator that had been sunning itself on that little-traveled bit of road was as shocked as he had been (for a moment), which was just enough time for Fang to get back on his bike and haul ____ out of the area.
Every ride, every time.