The Life Of My Helmet

 

The Life Of My Helmet

 

By Logan Smith

Keeping it tight on both my temples, equal pressure presses on the back as in the front. I make sure I can see, I can

buckle my helmet easily, take it on and off. I add and remove foam, making sure the fit is just right. I envision myself at the

bottom of a massive waterfall, looking up having completed my line with confidence. The story of one’s helmet is not spoken,

but rather through scrapes, dents, and marks from battle of the mighty river.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I give my buddy the ready sign, she responds with a nod and I begin to paddle, nervously, for the hectic and loud dirty

water that descends rapidly off of a triangular house-sized rock. I approach the boiling water next to the boulder, keeping my

balance trying to sit up tall to see all that I can. A massive hole reveals itself, stretching the width of the river. I see a weak spot

on the left, and I make my move. I bring my shoulders and elbows in at the last second, taking a ferocious hit. I listen to the

violent water, pounding against my helmet. My boat flattens out with a loud thud, I shake my head to clear the water in my eyes,

and droplets fly off the visor of my helmet. Popping up next to me is a boat and a swimmer, quick actions take place, somebody

is on top of her already, and pulls her back to the nearest eddy. I look at the boat and immediately drain out as much water as I

can. I clip into the grab handle and charge to safety before the next rapid.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just before I arrive at the eddy our leader instructs me to go to a different one. I turn and burn for the new location,

fighting hard, charging with my helmet to safety. Just as I approach the eddy – that just so happens to be above an enormous hole – 

the boat I tow flips and quickly drags me downstream towards said enormous hole. I grab the safety tab on my life jacket, miss

the bright red knob, and am yanked backwards into the hole, still connected to the capsized boat. I battle to reach the boat behind

me and un-clip the carabiner. Free of the burden I fight my way out of the hole. My helmet squeezes my head, keeping me safe

and confident in everything that I do.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In situations like these my helmet inspires confidence. I look at my helmet and I see it as a part of me, a story that tells

everyone around me the life I have lived. I look at my helmet and know every memory and experience that we have shared. I

thank it for the protection it gives me, for the trauma it has saved me from and for the certainty it inspires. I look at my helmet

and I know me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dagger is stoked to now offer Sweet Rocker Special Edition helmets! Check them out here: https://www.dagger.com/us/sweet-rocker-helmets