Madmen And the Magic Mean

Madmen and the Magic Mean

EDITORIAL

As HOWARD BEALE PROCLAIMED IN Network. I’m as mad as hell. And I’m not going to take this anymore.

I'm mad because I'm tired of being discriminated against. Not discrimination based on my race, color, creed or sex, or even on the fact that I'm one of those screw balls w ho ride motorcycles; I'm talking about discrimination from within the motorcycle industry, based on my physical size and my eyesight.

See, I'm a bit taller (just under 6'2”) and heavier (just over 200 pounds) than average, and a few other of my specifications (sleeve length, calf diameter, finger length) fall a bit outside the norm. As far as my eyesight is concerned, well, the doctor said I needed either glasses or a dog. Glasses don't eat. so they were my first choice.

Still, none of these attributes is all that extraordinary. There’s nothing unusual about my wearing of glasses, since more than half of the people in this country require corrective lenses of some sort. And while I’m not what you w'ould call “small,” I'm certainly not big enough, in any dimension, to end up in either the NBA. the NFL or the Freaks Hall of Fame. Like so many other Americans, I simply have an extra inch or two here, an additional millimeter or three there.

So if I'm not Guinness World Record fodder, why, then, is it so difficult for me to find motorcycle clothing that fits well enough to do its intended job? And w hy do helmets and eye-protection devices not take into consideration the needs of eyeglass wearers? Why should I and others like me have to compromise our riding comfort and safety just because we don't fall into some marketing department's Magic Mean?

If you want examples, let's start with street helmets. A number of them, including several high-zoot models, have faceshields that don’t flip up far enough to allow easy insertion of eyeglasses. Many others make it all but impossible for my glasses to be pushed between the helmet's padding and my temples and hooked behind my ears. And once I get the glasses installed. I have to take the helmet off'every hour or so and rub some circulation back into my ears.

Bespectacled off-road riders don’t

have it any better. Few goggles will fit over eyegíasses, and of those that do, none, to my knowledge, prevents dust and dirt from leaking in past the sidepieces. On two occasions, I've suffered eye infections from the crap that has gotten in my orbs during dusty races or rides. Admittedly, there is at least one brand of goggles built with glass prescription lenses, but they don't allow the use of tinted lenses and tear-offs—in addition to making me look like Snoopy in pursuit of the Red Baron.

There are just as many problems with the way motorcycle clothing fits—or. in my case, doesn't fit. For one thing, the sleeves of riding jackets generally end long before coming close to my wrists. This isn't so much of a problem with street jackets, because 1 can wear gauntlet-style gloves in cold weather to cover my exposed wrists. But because dirt-riding gloves are gauntlet-less, oft-road jackets and motocross shirts always leave two or three inches of my wrist hanging out in the open. And If I wear even thin shoulder-pads under the jacket or shirt, I end up with three-quarterlength sleeves—the “in” look for fans of Miami Vice, perhaps, but not the hot tip for oft-road motorcycling.

What’s more, my fingers bottomout in most gloves, even when the other parts of my hands fit in them quite nicely. That restricts circulation just enough that the ends of my fingers often go numb when I'm riding in the cold. My feet sometimes do likewise because the tops of most street boots are an extremely tight fit around my calves—if they fit at all. And the only way I can wear most

motocross boots is if the uppermost buckles or cinching devices are let out as far as possible.

A few brands of MX boots fit me acceptably, but I've yet to come across a pair of MX pants that will go around my calves with the shinguards in place—and most still won't fit after the guards are removed. The baggy pants that come with most foulweather oft-road riding suits probably would fit around my calves, but they won't slip over my feet if my boots are on; and if I put the pants on first, the pantlegs won't slide down over the tops of the boots.

Now, I might be oversimplifying matters, but it seems to me that if we have the technology to put men on the moon, build mechanical hearts and store reams of data on a microchip the size of a fingernail, we can overcome simple problems like those described here. We can design helmets that better serve the needs of eyeglass wearers who ride bikes; we can design motorcycle clothing that fits people who might not be built like high-fashion models, but who also are not the size of Kareem Abdul-Jabbar or The Refrigerator.

If I'm the only one who feels this way, then ignore me; like a migraine headache, maybe I’ll eventually go away. But based on conversations I've had with many of you when we’ve met somewhere along the road, on what I've read in countless letters to the Editor, and on what you've told me in innumerable phone calls. I'm not alone. I believe that a lot of you are as fed up as I am with riding gear that makes you feel like an oddity just because you have less-than20/20 vision or a couple of dimensions that aren't quite average.

In all probability, the only way to change this situation is to let the people who make these products know how you feel. Not just by refusing to buy their wares, but by also writing and telling them why. Most of them will ignore your letters, but the better ones just might not. They know that it’s one thing for some crazy magazine editor to be as mad as hell, but that it’s quite another when a sizable segment of the buying public feels the same way. When that happens, they know it's time to do something about it. Paul Dean