I bought a neat new helmet last week at Biken Bob's in Dover. It's a Bell Reebok Pump helmet. It has an air bladder around the inside rim and you inflate it to match your head size. I got the Avalanche model and it was cheap. Usually they're about $105, but his one was marked down to $35 because it was an XXL size. Bob said he ordered it for a Category 1 racer he knows, but his head is even bigger than XXL.

I had a little problem at first, keeping the thing on my head. Every time I'd put my head down to really hammer, it would slide down my face. This can be real bad doing 40 down hill while passing farm equipment. I was right next to that John Deere baler when the darn helmet shoved forward and the air bladder became lodged up under my nose. I could barely see through the air slots in the top, but I could sure hear those 46 stainless steel cutting blades whirling and grinding in the air. The worst sound was a fiendish laugh of the old farmhand driving the thing. "Hee hee hee. Look's like you got a problem boy."

I swear it sounded like he was swerving into my lane, while I struggled to get the thing off my face. The air bladder kinda compresses onto your skin with a suction action and won't let go. It reminded me of that slimy creature in the movie "Alien," when that guy looked in the egg and that thing leaped onto his face. Well, my helmet was now locked on my face and the air bladder was firmly entranced up my nose. I opened my mouth for some air and the helmet thrust another inch forward and the rim filled my mouth and now I was in need of some real AIR!

I was turning blue (a shade darker than the color on one of those entry level Burley tandem models) when the baler crept over into my lane and forced me to choose between leaving the road or becoming biker puree. I chose leaving the road. Funny how easily that helmet came off after hitting an official U.S. Mailbox face first. That baby just popped right off!

I lay on the ground gasping for air and wondering if cycling with a neck brace is possible. My head had hit the overhanging mailbox and stopped, but my body and bike tried to travel on down the road. Now, about six inches taller, I picked myself up, inspected my bike, and looked the Bell Avalanche over. Everything appeared to be in good shape, but putting that Bell on one more time took a lot of courage. I wasn't about to let that thing slip down my face once more as I rode home.

I don't carry a frame pump for flat tires. I carry a couple of CO2 cartridges, that you screw onto the tire and they inflate the tire to an unknown pressure, but enough to get you home. I took one of these out, put the helmet on my head, and screwed the CO2 cartridge onto the helmet's Pump valve. "SWOOSH SHISSSSSSSSSSSSS"

The air bladder in the helmet filled rapidly to about 300 pounds per square inch before I could pull the cartridge off. The pressure was so great my eyes began to bulge out of my head and my ears started ringing. I tried to pull the helmet off but it wouldn't budge! It had a death grip on my head and it wasn't coming off.

Seeing double, I threw my leg over the bike and started home. All the way there, I could hear my heart beating in my ears and I just hoped that the blood flow wasn't cut off to my cranium. At home, Judith my ever understanding wife, was laughing outrageously while she grabbed the helmet with both hands, placed one foot on my chest and tried to pull the sucker off. When that didn't work, we tied 50 foot of rope to the bumper of the van and looped the other end through the air holes in the Bell. I bent over while Judith gunned the Astro up the street.

The soles of my shoes became very hot as I was pulled up the street and around the corner. Sparks flew from the metal SPD clips on the bottom of my shoes, as Judith increased speed to about 25 mph. I looked like a water skier gone mad as she did a figure eight in our cul-de-sac. Several of my neighbors started to applaud and cheer as I was towed past their houses. I could see my wide eyed daughter looking out the back window of the van, giggling and pointing back toward me. With gestures and words, it sure looked like she was saying, "Faster, Mommie, Faster!"

The intense laughter radiating from the van must have drowned out my cries for help. I kept screaming at the van to stop, but Judith and my daughter continued doing doughnuts in the cul-de-sac. With each pass around the circle, Judith would increase speed and centrifugal force began to act upon my body. At about 35 mph, my feet left the ground and I began spinning horizontally through the air behind the van.

I completed two full laps of being towed head first around the neighborhood. This gave several of the more devious neighbors time to run into their houses and bring back paper plates with numbers written on them. Jim the Animal stood at the top of his drive and held up a plate with a 9 on it. As I passed his place, he yelled out, "Could have been a ten, if you had pointed your toes more."

I waved back at Jim, the universal sign language for "Thanks," and made my final pass of the neighborhood. As I approached the next driveway, the loudest "POP" my ears have ever perceived came at the precise moment of separation, of me, from my Helmet.

Free now to travel in a direct line, I sped straight toward the stop sign at the corner. This I hit directly feet first and bent the sign to the ground. I landed upright and running, right behind my white van.

"Faster, Mommie, Faster!" laughed my daughter, as I almost grabbed the door handle on the back of the van.

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