Thursday, September 04, 2014
When I was growing up, every kid knew the world was a dangerous and deadly place. We didn't need stickers on our bikes to tell us we could get splatted. Most of us developed first hand experience.
Back then, Mom was usually home to attend to minor casualties and do triage to determine if the wounded one rated a trip to the dreaded emergency room. Perhaps today's protective parents are motivated as much by economics as by a fear of harm to the little yard schnauzers. When you have to hand off to the pros early in the process your bill mounts quickly, even for something that turns out to be minor.
Or maybe we truly have become a nation of wussies who can't figure stuff out for ourselves.
Bikes seem to baffle people. Or maybe I just see the baffled ones because the self sufficient ones are all out riding. In any case, the bike industry sees the need to cover its ass and its products with copious warning labels. This one had a restrained total of four: one on each wheel and one each on the frame and fork.