In the MSF class, the instructors harped on conspicuity, which is a chewy word for visibility. I’ve caught myself overlooking bikers in all black, on their black low-slung cruisers, with their half-watt taillights, so I know how easy it is to not see us.
So I ordered a yellow helmet, thinking, “well, it’ll be ugly, but it’ll be safer.” I’ve never had a piece of yellow clothing, nor lusted after anything yellow. I’m a teal/taupe person from way back.Yellow was so not my fave. So I purtied it up by ordering a spiffy iridium shield.
But an odd thing happened. When I got the helmet, it was painfully visible, but instead of cringing, I fell in love. It had apparently awakened some dormant love of yellow. Suddenly, I wanted more.
When my silver SV650 was stolen, I found a yellow bike to replace it. I found the perfect hi-viz yellow jacket, an Olympia Motosports Ladies Airglide that can be seen from space. If only it glowed in the dark…
So now I’m a yellow blur on the country roads. I hear from friends, “I saw you out yesterday…” So much for riding incognito. But that’s not my intent; I want to be seen by those distracted women in minivans, the addle-brained jerks in tuner cars, the tired guys coming home from work at rush hour. They can’t say they didn’t see me coming.