A bike helmet is like safety glasses –
we're casual about wearing them until we take a blow to the head.
Luckily, I was wearing this helmet three
weeks ago when I fell while on a short ride in a nearby state park.
Doubly luckily, I was within walking distance of help at a visitor
center. Three weeks later, I have no broken bones or head injuries and
I'm back on the squash court for short sessions.
Squash therapy is my treatment of choice
when I can't run, swim, lift weights, or do push-ups. The light racquet
and small court let me get some kind of workout in every situation –
solo drills while the eye healed, half-court games for sore knees,
left-handed games for a torn rotator cuff, easy rallying while the bike
bruises and scrapes slowly heal. Like they say, better than no sex at
all.
As for safety measures, my habits
haven't changed much. I'm glad I was wearing a helmet, of course, and
on a ride like this going without one wasn't an option. I was on a flat
stretch of paved road with no traffic or distractions and went down
before I knew it. In more than 55 years on a bike, I often have not
worn a helmet and I can't say I'll always wear one in the future,
especially when I'm riding on the streets in my neighborhood. To each
his or her own.
The same goes for safety glasses. I
always wear them when playing a beginner or someone I don't know. But
only sometimes with my regulars. I know the risk and so do they.
Accidents will happen. The most
dangerous thing to do on the roads in my town is pull away from a green
light without waiting a few seconds and looking both ways. My daughter
biked cross country this summer with 31 people and only one of them had
a wreck (and still finished). A friend about my age, known for her
careful planning, was killed two weeks ago on the second day of a
ten-day group bike trip. A helmet could not save her.
After playing tennis for more than 50
years, I got hit in the eye with a ball for the first time a year ago –
by my doubles partner, no less – and, luckily, missed only a few weeks.
I cringe now whenever I see a net man retreat to cover a lob while
their partner crosses to take it.
The local college is starting a squash
team. I told the students who came out that it is not a question of if
but when they will be hit in the face if they continue playing. Then I
go out and play with my regular partner and neither of us wears
glasses. Do as I say, not as I do.
(John Branston is a freelance writer and lives in Memphis)
