Ever have someone in a car ask you, “where’s your helmet?”
I did once, and she waited until the light changed to do it, too. Which means she was stewing about it for a couple minutes before she had the opportunity to ask a rhetorical question without any repercussions (except my patented “dumbfuck deadman” look that clearly conveys to anyone around that I think you are so stupid you should be dead).
For years after that, I waited for it to happen again, so I could shout, “IN MY PANTS!”
Of course when it did happen again, about two weeks later, on a beautiful green singletrack trail, I was once again too dumbstruck to do anything but stare.
Basically, this isn’t a “newsy” blog post, I just wanted to point out that someone in a CAR, asking me where my helmet is… that’s like a retard with a gun who thinks I should wear a bulletproof vest.
“I don’t have to be careful… I’ve got a gun!“