Whatever that means

Where’s your helmet

I must confess, just like the time when the driver asked me where my knee pads were, when a cyclist passed me today, looked and asked “where’s your helmet?” I was lost for words, managing only a “what the fuck business is it of yours?” when he was probably too far away to hear. I should have asked where his knee pads were. Of course, it’s not the first time and I’m sure it won’t be the last. 

People, especially people who don’t cycle, feel perfectly entitled to tell you what you should be wearing. And I can sort of understand non-cyclists thinking that it’s something so uniquely dangerous that body armour is needed. But it’s not cycling that’s dangerous. Some cars are dangerous and if you want to make cycling safer do something about that. Don’t bother trying to tell me that up against a car or a lorry on the A985 my life will be saved by a bit of polystyrene. If you have something to contribute I’ll see you here on the 25th.

Other than that, we unwrapped our life-size cardboard Nicola Sturgeon at work. That’ll terrify the cleaner in the morning.


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This entry was posted on April 16, 2015 by in The Bank of Me.
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