the unhelmeted truth

and the path of two wheeled anarchy

When did you experience your first taste of freedom?

For me, it was on a bike.

My first bike was yellow. It had a black crossbar. On it written in yellow were the letters ‘MX’.

I think MX meant ‘motor cross’.

The bike didn’t have a gas motor. It wouldn’t tackle any of the rutted muddy routes that any small, two stroke motor bike would in the day.

That bike did have a motor however: Me.

I began with training wheels. Those damn handcuffs seemed to be there for decades. In reality? They were likely only there a few weeks.

I remember the first night I rode without training wheels My dad removed them and went inside to put them away.

I was afraid to ride without them. I had fantasies of lining our walkway with pillows but my dad put the kibosh on that idea.

I’ll just hold your seat and run along behind you.

I then suggested hockey gear - elbow pads, helmet, jock - one can never be too careful when protecting your cocknballs - but my dad shut these ideas down.

When he was in the basement, I pushed…