FULL FACE STREET BIKE HELMETS. STREET BIKE HELMETS(Tue)
Full Face Street Bike Helmets. Schwinn World Sport Bike
Full Face Street Bike Helmets
- A bicycle helmet is a helmet intended to be worn while riding a bicycle. They are designed to attenuate impacts to the skull of a cyclist in falls while minimizing side effects such as interference with peripheral vision.
- A type of helmet , usually preferred by downhill riders.
- guardant(ip): looking forward
- With all of the face visible; facing directly at someone or something
- A public road in a city or town, typically with houses and buildings on one or both sides
- The roads or public areas of a city or town
- the part of a thoroughfare between the sidewalks; the part of the thoroughfare on which vehicles travel; "be careful crossing the street"
- Used to refer to the financial markets and activities on Wall Street
- a thoroughfare (usually including sidewalks) that is lined with buildings; "they walked the streets of the small town"; "he lives on Nassau Street"
- the streets of a city viewed as a depressed environment in which there is poverty and crime and prostitution and dereliction; "she tried to keep her children off the street"
VCAN V136 Crusader Black Medium Graphic Full Face Helmet
Ride the Streets in comfort and style with the V Can V136. This DOT approved, full face helmet is made with a lightweight, yet durable ABS thermoplastic resin shell to keep you safe while minimizing fatigue on your neck and shoulders during a long ride. The V136 comes with an adjustable, quick release, anti-scratch visor, and a double D ring chin strap for increased securability and comfort. It also features a flow thru ventilation system with front and mouth vents as well as rear exhaust. The comfortable inner liner and ear pads are both removable and washable. V136 comes is a combination of 3 designs, 7 colors, and 5 sizes ranging from XS to XL to fit you and your personality perfectly.
This is a memorial for Roy Sekreta, a bicyclist killed in Albuquerque 3/3/08
The following is an article by a cyclist who was killed by a bus in Feb '08, a year after he wrote this. He was 15 years old.
His name was Austin Miller.
Please Do Not Run Me Over
by Charlie Elsewhere, Columnist
It is well known that these days, the roads and parking lots of our public places are growing with numbers of bikers. With wild peddling racers zipping down the road and through intersections, it is apparent that drivers would need to have an increasing awareness for how they turn the wheel.
Long ago, I lived in a place called Vortex Sorrows. In this town, leagues of bikers ruled the streets-hardly a car was there to be found. When the ever growing and popular motorcar came to town, there was an outrage. “Too fast!” said Vortex residents. “And loud and polluting!” it seemed for the drivers of the town there would be no sympathy. And yet, more and more people found an easy escape to the time consuming, expensive and difficult task of biking, which was to buy cars which pollute their environment, loose the aspect of exercise all together and spend over four times as much on gas. I remained constant. I did not succumb to the new, hip trend of car buying. I eyed no sedan dealership, no gas station-only bike galleries and shops. It never occurred to me that I might get more pleasure out of having less money and more weight for the simple exerting exercise of peddling five miles to school and back.
Within a time span of about two weeks, what was once a league of bikers which would join me on my morning route became nothing but me, that strange kid Logan who no one liked to talk to, and a road packed full of red brake lights. Every day, I would hop aboard my bicycle, clip on the helmet and take off toward home, and on my way I would often see red, frustrated faces of the motorcar drivers as they slammed on their brakes and honked their horns. Me? I was smooth sailing, begin the juices flowing and the chemical reactions reacting to push a cloud of good feelings into my mind and body.
And yet soon, even Logan took to the big yellow school bus, and I was left alone. I later petitioned to bring back the art of cycling to Vortex Sorrows-in full. I put up posters, ran for town jr. mayor, and petitioned for new laws restricting the amount of driving that could be engaged in during weekdays. Just when the future of Vortex’s residence began to seem brighter, a revolution happened against me and I was run from the town.
A lot of drivers seem to get frustrated by myself, and other bike loving pedalists. Usually I wouldn’t think so, but attempted hit and runs and getting chased through Mrs. Higden’s Hydrangea garden by an SUV crazed Blackberry loving business man was a slight indication that there may be ridged feelings over the way we ride. Now, to set the record straight, I give no excuses for bikers-or drivers-who brake laws and endanger their and other people’s lives. Anyone who shares the road with me and the rest of us needs to be aware that they are not the only ones, and their lives depend on everybody working together. Unfortunately, in this day and age, I see more drivers whining and complaining about biking behavior than actually trying to do something about it. If I spent all my waking hours crying over every time a driver cut me off, nearly hit me, did hit me, or any other offense, would anything be done about it? No. Talking about how much you hate bikers is not going to solve the fact that they are here-they are here to bike, to bike safely, and they are not going anywhere.
How would we solve this biking problem? Well for starters, why don’t all major roads have bike paths? With an increasing number of adults who choose the healthier way to get there and back again, they too travel on the same roads as any driver would on his or her way to work. Instead of complaining about having to share a road with a biker, why not ban together to get bike paths made standard, so that they can stay out of your way. There are so many things that can be done, and are so obvious it just makes one want to scream. And yet there are some things that have no solution.
Bikers will always be here; as long as it costs less than driving, helps us stay fit and pumps those feel-good chemicals throughout our body, we will remain on the early morning pavement, and that will not change. There is no excuse for a driver who does not pay attention and mind not only other cars but bikes. You cannot control other people’s actions, but you can control your own. Why anyone would rather sit inside a massive metal death trap for their commute is beyond me, but there are those with family, disabilities and other impairing things keeping them from biking. There will never again be a society 100% dedicated to driving or biking. It is like all other integration that had to happen in history-it takes time, patience, and a great deal of compromise.
273 - From Paratha With Manners
4/5/11 From Paratha With Manners - My second lunch today. As our cook for lunch at school is away this week we got some pack-up from home but it wasnt enough for me so I went for wander down our gali or alleyway to buy some bananas and so started a small adventure. At the bottom of the gali I bumped into a local businessman that sells phones, we had met the second weekend I was in India after on of the other volunteers had bought off him and we ended up having a drink together. He's a nice young guy who is very friendly and asked what I was doing, then said "Come, jump on my scooter". Thought why not and we whizzed off down the pathway that full pf street sellers, their stalls, people walking, other mopeds, scooters and motorbikes, the occasional rickshaw, dogs, boxes, cycles and just about a million other obstacles but nobody takes a bit of notice. You narrowly miss everything including the traffic from the side galis, you just sometimes have to brake and steer quickly perhaps in a direction you dont want to go in but then go round to get back on track. All this on a path barely 10 foot wide. Then we shot out into the traffic and we flew through the cars, rickshaws, buses and trucks etc still narrowly missing everything and I pulled my feet in tight so they wouldnt get caught. Did I mention I was just wearing sandles, not even done up, a t-shirt and no helmet. Well I thought just do as the locals do and I got on with enjoying my ride, the cooling breeze in my face, the thrill of near-misses.
The guy took me to his friend, the computer fixer, where we chatted for a while then we whizzed off again down some side streets and into an area I hadnt been to before. All of a sudden he pulls over to speak to friend and we are having lunch. I had said I was just after a couple of bananas but he insisted we ate. His friend turned out to own the roadside food stall and lunch was quickly thrown on a metal tray for us - chickpeas in dark green sauce, darker green liquid chutney with chillis and then a freshly cooked parantha - a fried bread as in the photo. I wouldnt have minded but considering I've got a touch of Delhi Belly already and the food had been sitting around for a long time in the heat of the sun and then kept warm on the stall, there were flies everywhere and I noticed the guy in the gutter cleaning the trays we were eating off. My manners meant I couldnt say no so I just ate away standing with all the other guys having a fast lunch at the stall. Having finished my food I was promptly given some more and then same again . Ended up having three portions - remember I had already had lunch, newspaper was thrust at me to wipe my hands and I got my money out to pay for our lunch as thought it would be a nice gesture but my money was refused - lunch was free to me as a friend of the other guy and I was given a bottle of sprite too.
Back on the bike and off we twisted and turned through the traffic, all the time the guy is talking to me over his shoulder, nearly crashing when asking about a French girl volunteer he fancied, I had to tell him she had gone home having found out she was pregnant - he had nick named he Pari which means angel - and angel she was not.
He pulled over to smoke and chat and wanted me to come to his friends house to hang out but I had to insist on going back as I had to work. He dropped me back disappointed I couldnt be his friend for the afternoon and I carried on my way. Indian people in Govin Puri are very friendly and generous, I love the place for being so real, honest and non-touristy - sometimes I'm the only white man amongst what must be at least 100,000 people but nobody bothers me and I feel safe.
Found out this evening I can drink on the meds I'm on - nice......another double whisky please.
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