Since I’ve finally got this dumb bike rolling down here at the ranch, and logging a few miles (my thighs are killing me), I’m starting to get interested in doing some of the Saturday road rallies that take place all over Texas (probably your state, too.) There are certainly plenty to choose from, many of them close enough to get up early on Saturday and make it in time for a 7:30am start.

But — one thing bugs the crap out of me: most of these rides require a helmet. Require, not recommend. Those are rides that I won’t be going on (and charities that won’t be getting my registration fees.)

I’m in league with those idiot motorcyclists who leave the lid at home. Quote all the facts and stats you want, and it don’t matter to me. I don’t want to wear a helmet when I’m riding my stupid bike at 10mph for 10-20 miles on country roads, particularly when they’ve got coppers out managing the high-traffic areas. I’ll take my chances, thanks. The reason I love riding a bike is the illusory feeling of freedom, and a huge part of that is the wind in my hair. It’s a little thing, but it’s the same reason I don’t wear those ridiculous shades — I like the sun in my eyes.

Anticipatory answer: yes, I wear the lycra shorts with the padded butt. My distaste for shredded, bleeding inner thighs is boundless. To preserve my modesty, though, I generally wear regular shorts over them. I need a pocket for my Zippo, after all.