The next time I take a trip to some exotic locale, I will pack a helmet. Whether I bring a bike of my own, or rent locally (as I did on my most recent trips to France, Italy, Greece, Cambodia and Laos), I will wear my “shell,” even if it gives me away as a tourist.
The young man I encountered a few days ago is fine. His mother and sister say that they’ll make sure he’s covered when he rides again. I offered mine—I explained that I have two others and could’ve taken the subway home to avoid riding bareheaded—but they said he already has one but just wouldn’t wear it.
I can say that wearing a helmet saved me on more than one occasion. In one instance, the emergency room doctor told me as much. In another, two decades earlier, I was fine even though (or possibly because) my helmet (rather than my head) broke in two.
I think Lou Ness would concur with my assessment of the value of helmets.
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