An Open Letter to Stupid People

Hey, you! EGGHEAD!

Yes, I’m talking to you, tough guy. Mr. Auto Mechanic with your Fu Manchu mustache, Popeye forearms and weathered skin like leather. You who could beat me senseless by just looking at me.

You, sir, are an idiot.

So are you, little old lady with the lavender, polyester pants and fluffy white hair that matches her tennis shoes. You are a complete and total imbecile.

You girls there, you teenagers heading to the mall in your tiny denim skirts and oversized sunglasses? You are just as big a pair of fools as that computer-geek couple in their late 40s with their black socks and running shoes, or the preppy twosome trying to be all sporty in Tommy Hilfiger.

Yes, I am talking to all of you Stupid People.

Congratulations. You are all top winners in my daily, personal Darwin Award effort. Each and every one of you suffer from a particular kind of DUMB and it really ticks me off that I, a simple woman who does not know you from Adam, care more about your very existences than any of you do.

I applaud all of your efforts to find alternate transportation, or insert more exercise into your daily routine, or take yourself on a stimulating outing. And yet, when I look at each of you, I wish you’d stayed home and couch surfed instead.

There are those of us who take bike riding seriously. We do so because we have almost been hit several times by soccer moms who cannot see us in their oversized SUVs while conversing intensely on their cell phones; cursed at by home boys, frat boys and cowboys who’ve been inconvenienced by our properly executed left turn; and had drunken partiers nearly run us off the road on their way home from casinos. Some of us know what it’s like to undergo hip or knee replacement surgery after having been clipped by a lax driver, or to spend months nursing a broken shoulder because someone rolled through a stop sign.

We cyclists all have our war stories, our almosts, our near misses; each is different and special to the telling. But the one thing we serious bicycle riders—whether we’re toddlers or adults—all have in common: We ALL wear HELMETS when we ride. It is WHY we CAN still TELL OUR STORIES. Why we continue to make it through another commute or trip out to Millerton.

And all of you, from cute little granny to the rockin’ Fu, to the ridiculous girls who were also riding on the WRONG side of the road to the sporty couple out on their morning “date” to the mom with the 3 kids tooling around on a Saturday—get your fat heads out of your… armpits… and put helmets on them. On your fat heads, I mean.

If you ride a bike—whether it is 10 feet or 10 miles—WEAR A HELMET. And, Stupid People, stop thinking that because you are over 18 that wearing a helmet somehow doesn’t apply to you. It does. It applies to everyone, even Stupid People. Enough with the worrying that it will crumple your hairdo, or that wearing one will make you look uncool. HELLO?? Of course wearing a helmet will make you look uncool! Of course it will crumple your hairdo! The alternative is that you end up looking like a complete freak with a crumpled HEAD without using one. Have you SEEN what steel plates do for fashion? NOTHING. No one designs with accommodating steel plates in mind.

You know what? On second thought, DON’T. Do us all a favor and don’t wear one. If you’re stupid enough to put your life on the line because it is an inconvenience to you or an embarrassment to have brain protection, maybe our society as a whole is better off without your special brand of self-absorbed absurdity.

But first, please buy helmets for all your children and force them to wear them every time they get on a bike—especially your toddler with the tricycle. You see, that way we can ensure that your funeral will be well attended.

Thanks.