Bicycling magazine... unsubscribe

[porcinea]

Sometimes, magazines make it crystal clear that I am not their target audience. Take this most recent issue of Bicycling magazine (which I thought I canceled last month, hmmm).

Cover headline: LEANER FASTER STRONGER: A simple plan to get fit and

Comments

[porcinea]

It was a journey. I started out wearing mine religiously. I'd been riding near-daily for over a year before I considering taking it off. What prompted me was re-evaluating my risks. I have ALWAYS been extremely careful about sun exposure. I don't use sunscreen for Reasons[tm]. I do wear a hat, cover my skin, seek out shade. On the bike, you can't avoid the sun; you have to bike where the path is, facing the appropriate direction, etc. After my 2nd? 3rd? (I think it was only 2nd -- I have some sense) Actual Real OMG SUNBURN! I calculated my head-injury risks against my skin cancer risks. I hadn't fallen off my bike in ages; when I did fall, my head was nowhere in jeopardy -- it was all slo-mo style, graceful catching self on the way down type shit. Moreover, I'd been reading up on helmet studies -- safety not proven, protection extended for <12mph collisions. And studies of driver behavior around helmet-wearing cyclists -- more risks taken, less leeway granted. And then there was Marilyn Dershowitz -- killed on the block past my office by a postal delivery van, helmet had to be cut out of her brain. Obviously no protection against the real menace to me, the same fucking postal vans I have to pedal with every day.

So, that summer, I switched to a GIANT straw hat. Sun screening for the win. Unexpectedly (see studies re: driver behavior around helmeted bikers for why I shouldn't have been surprised), cars gave me more room when passing. When fall came, instead of going back to the helmet, I switched to bike-appropriate caps, because that visor is *required* for my vision. Bonus, my scalp finally healed itself from the near-constant inundation of the helmet sweat. And cars still act better around me.

Except, of course, for the paternalistic assholes who always wanna pull over and ask me "Hey, where's your helmet?" Fuckers. I finally got an answer suits me -- "Hey, where's your bike!?!?"