I wanted to say, "Hey, lose 20 pounds, put down that cream-cheese-covered cinnamon bun, and then you can tell me what to do." But instead I just said, "Thanks for your concern, but I think I'm OK."
What had I done to catch the attention of this unknown woman? I rode my bike to the market without my helmet.
I ride a lot. I mountain bike, I road ride, I often commute on my bicycle. Most of the time, I wear a helmet.
I'd never consider riding the trails nor would I head out on my road bike without a helmet, but there are times - like when I'm cruising to the market or to a friend's house -when I'm comfortable without a helmet. It's a calculated risk.
We assess risk and take chances all the time. Some raft or kayak down whitewater, some eat unhealthily and smoke, and some free-solo impossibly difficult climbing routes. Me, I ride my bike to the market without a helmet. Call me extreme.
There is some truth that an accident without a helmet can be catastrophic and may cost taxpayers a significant amount, but bike accidents are nowhere near the most significant cost to the health-care system. Heart disease, diabetes and cancer far outweigh the dangers of helmetless cycling, and yet some overweight guy sucking on an Export A while washing down his french-fries with a cola is willing to offer an opinion on my bike riding habits. Really?
But we seem to have come to a place where all of our lives are regulated, where every decision we make is fraught with the threat of punishment. We've become like Switzerland or Singapore where you're likely to be ticketed for spitting on the sidewalk or washing a car on Sunday.
Recently we were visiting a lake near Ottawa. Lifeguards were perched in chairs above the small swimming area, and signs threatened, "Absolutely no swimming beyond the buoys." It was, I assumed, an empty caution made for liability reasons.
Then some wetsuit-clad young woman, likely training for a triathlon, dared to make her way into the water beyond the buoys. With whistle blowing and shouts of "No swimming outside the designated area," a lifeguard pursued her like Pamela Anderson hunting down a new plastic surgeon. It might have been comical had it not been so ludicrous.
I'm getting tired of the "nanny state." As an adult, I can make all sorts of informed decisions: some good, some bad; but I can make them by myself and accept the consequences.
