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Heads up

It was a shock.  When it comes to London roads, I never like to see cyclists anywhere but on their bikes.  Preferably with the full complement of helmet and visibility garb plus an array of bright lights.  With summer seemingly taking forever to arrive with us, lights are a good idea - morning, noon and night.  

He lay there, motionless, and wrapped in something that looked warm.  The road looked cold, and inhospitable.  There was police presence, but no ambulance staff or paramedics that I could see.  Such sights are never pleasant. There was nothing I could do to help at that point, so I continued along my way, rather cautiously - I felt shaken and shivered in sympathy.

A friend asked me how I rode a bike in London.  I don't have an answer.  Courage and common sense are required in equal measure.  Concentration is essential.  I think it helps that I am a sometime motorist.  I know all too well how distracted my fellow car drivers can be.  I've had people drive into the back of me.  I've had people drive into the side of me.  It happens.  I'd rather it did when I'm encased in a bubble of metal.  

I wouldn't think of driving anywhere without my seat belt.  I wouldn't pedal anywhere beyond the pavement without my helmet.  On my head. Handlebars are where I rest my (still glove-clad) hands.  They are not designed or intended as somewhere to hang vital head protection.  As cyclists, we have a responsibility to use our heads. The skull is strong but does not need to be put to the test.  








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