Easter Monday started off like any other weekend ride. My wife and I hopped on our bikes and hit the road for a relaxed spin around the neighborhood.

Nothing wild — just two people out enjoying the day, trying to move our legs and maybe feel a little less guilty about the amount of eggs and other goodies we ate the day before.

The crash, the collarbone, and why you wear a helmet

We weren’t doing anything risky. No hills, no traffic. Just smooth pavement and a quiet street.

And then, without warning, it all changed. We both tried to turn and hit each other.

There was no time to make a correction — the bike slid, and my wife went straight down, shoulder and head first, like a sack of bricks. Me somehow managed to avoid the hit.

I heard the impact before I reached her. The sound of metal and bone hitting the ground.

I ran over, heart pounding.

She was on the ground, clearly in pain, could not raise her own arm. We later found out she broke her collarbone.

But her head? Her head was fine.

And that’s when it hit me — that cracked helmet saved her. That simple piece of plastic and foam, took the full force of the fall. It cracked. It did its job. Not only that, but it, protected her head – the part of her that can’t be fixed with a cast or a few weeks of rest.

So since last night (a night in the hospital) that helmet’s been sitting on my desk.

I stare at it.

For me, it looks like a damn trophy. A quiet little hero.

That helmet didn’t just save her from a concussion — it may have saved her life. And I don’t care how dramatic that sounds, because the truth is dramatic when the person you love is lying on the pavement.

We’ve always worn helmets, but honestly? Sometimes it felt like a formality. Just something you’re supposed to do. So when I look at that cracked helmet, I feel something close to reverence.

That thing stood between her and disaster. That thing mattered.

Don’t overthink it — just wear a helmet

So if you’re someone who thinks, “I’m just riding around the block,” or “I know what I’m doing,” or “It won’t happen to me” — let me stop you right there.

It can happen to anyone. My wife’s been biking for years. She’s cautious. She wasn’t distracted. She was just unlucky. And that’s all it takes — one second.

So, above all, thank you, Bell.

Thank you for building something strong enough to protect what I love most. Thank you for giving her the chance to walk away from that crash, even with a broken collarbone. You made something small that carries a responsibility far bigger than itself — and when it mattered most, it delivered.

And for the rest of you, here’s my message and I mean it with everything I’ve got:

Riding a bicycle? Wear a f****** helmet.