I am not some sort of finger-wagging ninny, I’ll say that upfront. But I am a human being, and frankly, sir, when I see you riding your motorcycle without a helmet, it makes me nervous as all hell. Stop it. Right now.

I’m in New Hampshire right now with my esteemed colleague, Raphael Orlove, on an adventure full of... things. And for those who have never been here, New Hampshire is the where they take the whole “live free or die” thing extremely seriously, to the extent that you don’t need a car insurance, a seat belt, or even a motorcycle helmet when riding, because all of those things are evil socialism.

(The liquor stores, on the other hand, are all government-run, which is also socialism.)

We normally live in New York, a state which wholeheartedly believes in both hypocritical corporatism and socialism, and which seems to mostly manifest itself in laws requiring helmet use when riding a motorcycle.

So maybe seeing someone on a bike without a helmet is more common than it should be, especially considering how common it is up here in the frozen wastes, where it’s a lovely August afternoon and it’s only 68 degrees.

But every time I do see someone without a helmet, I feel extremely weird!!!!!! It’s like seeing someone running without scissors. It’s not something that should be illegal, but it’s extraordinarily dangerous and extraordinarily silly.

“Come back, motorcycle man!” I shout. “Put a helmet on! Please, put a helmet on!”

But there they go, still riding away without heeding my words, their braincases exposed to the breeze and the merciless asphalt, both ready to turn their faces into red putty.

“What would your mother say?” I quietly ask to myself. Because they have already gone, without their mother’s words.

I asked Andrew Collins, our resident biker, why anyone would ride a bike without a helmet.

“...I will also say... confession time... riding without a helmet feels SO good,” he told me over Slack.

But you know what, Andrew????? YOU KNOW WHAT.

Heroin feels good, too, I’m told. Heroin feels good, too.

I’m told.

Anyways, don’t ride a motorcycle with your shiny pate flapping in the wind! It’s freaking me out!!!!!!!!!