At the risk of being off-topic just a bit, I have to reiterate how important helmets are. I love classic bikes, but I always wear a modern helmet, and I have a sobering story that supports why.
Somewhere around 1989, my wife and I were about 25 miles into a long afternoon ride in the back woods of Northern Wisconsin, where the roads are notoriously rough from the harsh Winters. I was aboard my Eddy Merckx and MJ was on her De Rosa. It was a beautiful Summer afternoon and we were feeling good and riding pretty hard, sprinting against each other and trading off pulls. Just a great, fun ride like countless others. I was following her closely in a long, fast, slightly downhill sweeper, probably doing about 25 or 30 mph. MJ hit a small crease in the road which caught and jerked the front wheel, causing her to loose control and fall directly in front of me. She was sliding, still partially in the pedals, when I hit her squarely in her back with my front wheel. The impact launched me off my bike, completely over her and her bike, in a tumble. The first thing that came in contact with the ground was my head, where I crushed my Giro helmet right over my forehead, and broke my glasses in three pieces, cutting up my face. I continued to tumble over my shoulder, back and hip, and then slid to a stop. A very violent crash that seemed to happen in surreal slow motion. I even remember the spray from the launched water bottles reflecting the sunlight. I laid in the road for a few minutes in a semi-shocked state before realizing nothing seemed broken and I could actually get up. MJ was bleeding profusely, having slid along the course pavement while I was tumbling. Her shorts and jersey were ripped, and the abrasions on her hip were nearly to the bone (she still has scars to prove it). The impact either from her hitting the ground or me hitting her had bent her forks and even severely bent the center bolt on her Super Record caliper. While contemplating what to do next, miles away from a phone, we were saved by a guardian angel of a woman who stopped in her station wagon to see if there was anything she could do. She loaded our bikes and drove us all the way home (while MJ bled on he front seat), explaining that her sister was a bike racer, and she hoped someone would do the same for her, should she ever be in need.
The moral of the story is that, while I'm not sure if my helmet saved my life, I'm convinced it certainly saved me from having to learn how to walk and talk all over again. We both survived the ordeal with relatively minor injuries, and I firmly believe that helmets played a major role in that outcome. And if this tale makes anyone think twice about not wearing a helmet, then it was worth the telling.
I urge all my cycling friends to wear helmets. I don't want to loose any of them!
Wayne Bingham
Falls Church VA