When I was a boy, fresh of out of university in 1981, I drove across Canada, down the west coast to San Diego and across the southern US border to the east coast and back up through the Appalachians on my brand-new leftover 1979 Suzuki GS850G. What a great trip!
In New Mexico, I stopped at a little diner for breakfast and some other riders were there and they asked me to join them. It was really nice to meet some other riders after thousands of miles of being alone and we thoroughly enjoyed each other's company. When we pulled out together to head east, one of them said as I donned my helmet (Canada has always had extremely strict helmet laws - nobody would even think for a moment about going bareheaded), "
You don't need that hat here - the highway is empty, its dry as a bone and there isn't anything to hit alongside the roads like trees, poles etc. and besides, the law doesn't require a helmet anyway."
Sooooo, I said, "
Yeah, I guess...." and strapped the lid to my backrest and we set off. Within a few seconds, all I could think about was
ambulances, wheelchairs and funeral homes and so after about a mile or so, I waved to my new buddies, pulled over and put my helmet on.
About 45 minutes later, I came upon a crash scene where one of the riders I had met in the diner was just dying from what was obviously a very severe head injury. Apparently, a car had swerved over onto his side of the road and clipped him - and then the cager buggered-off. The biker went spinning off the road into the ditch...and the rest you can imagine.
I have never, ever - ridden without a helmet again and I even regret that one mile in New Mexico more than 40 years ago.
Pete