Every time I look at my small gallery of helmets, I recall how this Shoei RF-SR, the safest motorcycle helmet saved her life that day.
We were on the New Hampshire highways, and the speedometer just kept running up; she was fast, too fast. I saw her trying to look back at me, maybe to confirm that I was still within view.
Of course, I should be and I must be, because she’s my everything, my heart, my life and going to be my sweet wife. Just at that very moment, in the split of a second, she lost grasp of the black Suzuki, and she was sent screeching the asphalt on the highway.
I could lost her forever. But, thanks God. Her helmet was Shoei RF-SR and Shoei are known for manufacturing the finest, the brightest and definitely the safest helmets for motorcycle.
Shoei RF-SR Motorcycle Helmet: The Safest Helmet
Speaking about the Shoei RF-SR motorcycle helmet, they have won my heart since that very day with their unique features perfectly engineered for comfort and safety.
The light weight of 5.5 pounds makes it quite comfortable to have on the head and you don’t have to worry about the size of your head as the helmet comes in various sizes and color to satisfy your tastes of fanciness.
This hand-made helmet that went through rigorous processes involving over dozens of people is engineered with dual-layer multi-density EPS liner enhances impact absorption and ventilation.
Riding and wind are not always in unison and that is why Shoei has specially made the RF-SR helmet with an aerodynamic shell design maximized through wind tunnel testing – an honest professional riders’ feedback.
You don’t have to worry about anything just like I don’t have to worry about my newly married sweetheart on the Ducati Multistrada anytime she’s got the Shoei RF-SR on.
Lest I forget to inform you, we got a replacement for the dented helmet and we never leave it behind for any ride.
Exactly what happened to my sweetheart in that day
Well, our courtship goes a long way back, and it is going a long way into the future and perhaps, forever. I met Moana at the cafeteria down my street in New Hampshire, she was gorgeous, and her smile was intriguing, I could bare figure out the relationship between time and space.
I am very familiar with quite a lot of beautiful ladies, but Moana made the whole familiarity thing shady. Yes, I understand what most people call it. Love at first sight! Well, who would even believe that stuff anyway?
For what it’s worth though, Moana and I made this incredible connection that was beyond my explanation, and till this day, I am unable to understand it clearly, still. The part of it all is the way I can even recall the looks she wore that evening; simple grey T-shirt on a neatly stitched blue jean, brown hair, brown eyes, dotted nose (one thing that always amuses me anytime I stare at her), and quite a piece of charming smile to send my head spinning in the other direction, probably.
Did we talk that evening?
I don’t think so. In the morning, I can’t seem to get her off my head and boom! There she was, on a brown tracksuit and black sneakers, her hair ponytailed as she jogged past me on the runway just a few blocks from my apartment.
She smiled at me. I could feel the smile even in her eyes, sincere and genuine. I smiled sheepishly like a five-year-old with cookies on both hands. When she walked back to me, I could feel her sweats and smell; felt a lot better than I anticipated. We talked as we strolled together down the street.
The whole New Hampshire lit up in my mind. She was a fantastic communicator. I felt it as she communicated with everything, her moves, her tone, voice and pitch, even the gestures reminded me of my earlier visit to Milano, Italy; she gestured just as correctly as the Italians that came my way during the tour.
We talked on till we came to a grey bungalow about one kilometre from mine then she stopped, turned around and looked at me with a smile like she wanted to say goodbye and then there it was; goodbye. Really? Goodbye? Well, that wasn’t so bad I said to myself as I walked back to my apartment. A few steps of, I felt a need to put on a light jogging back home.
Few days past and Moana was not seen, but we didn’t seem so far away because we connected on Facebook and were always chatting and poking on each other back then. At that moment, I think I was really in love, but I don’t know how to let it out.
I could not express myself, not in words, not even orally. Damn! I have never remembered being so helpless. We talked at length every day over the phone; I would see myself liking and reacting to all her posts and replying all her messages before she even hits the send button on her phone.
I was hapless; I won’t deny it, at least not now that they are all stories. Lol. This emotional turbulence continued inside my head for as long as forever until I broke it.
I summoned the courage and dragged my baby, Ducati to take a one-kilometre ride down the main street of New Hampshire express my emotions to the lady of my dreams and there she was by the doorway still wearing that smile that sends me off my feet. I just had to say what I needed to say. Gladly, she felt just the same way I felt. Isn’t this thing they call love magical?
She asked to ride with me, and I let her in. We sped down the highways of the ‘Land of Dreams’ with cheers on our faces as the wind blew her brown, sweet fragranced hair to my face. Quite a beautiful experience I must say. We stopped at a cafeteria at the outskirt of New Hampshire to get breakfast.
She was picky with foods; we took some time scanning through the menu and eventually settled for egg toast and tea, but she was a coffee drinker so I allowed her the leverage and opted for coffee instead. I am a quiet eater really, but I just can’t be quiet at such moment because I don’t even know why but I just can’t be quiet at that moment.
We talked through breakfast, and we got to a lot about each other in person. Damn! What is this thing with me and cafeterias? I can tell someone my passcodes at a cafetorium. Don’t get it wrong please, I’m not such a loose! Anyways, we talked, and she was more fun than I imagined.
Ninety minutes on breakfast?
I’ve never been on a meal for that long, the food will practically lose its taste in my mouth, but gladly, with Moana, breakfast was all yummy. Breakfast finished, and she offered to fix the bill. Don’t do this to me.
I felt myself whimper then I offered to pay instead. We argued over the table for quite some time, and the waiter was standing there looking at us grimacing. I wonder what he was staring at but who won’t stare with such astonishment seeing two full, grown adults of opposite genders fighting over a bill like kids that just won lotteries twenty-eight minutes ago. Eventually, I won. She agreed to allow me to fix the bill on the condition that she’s got the next bill. I could not even fight that one off. Heck! She is a good negotiator.
Bill paid, and we were out the door. Just across the road was a shop for racing gears and motorcycle gears. I thought of driving her without a helmet as a dangerous act and giving her mine while I drive leaves me without a helmet; even more dangerous. How come I even care so much.
We walked across the road to steal a peek at the contents of the shop, and she suggested we window shopped but deep inside my heart, I was convinced that we needed an additional helmet, but I tried to shrug it off. We walked through the aisles in the shop; the shop seems more massive than it appeared from the outside.
We had a long walk through the store scanning every gear we saw and every helmet we saw with absolutely no intentions of buying. We moved from shelf to shelf, reading the specs of different body gears and admiring their designs still with no plans of paying a thing for even the cheapest equipment.
My mind was just made up to scuffle through the shelves and leave the shop, and I was convinced she had the same motive as well. What were we turning into? Partners in crime, I would say.
The window shopping was taking too long, we don’t seem to get our eyes off the gears, and there it was, just like I would dream of it if I ever knew such beauty existed, the Shoei RF-SR, a wonder to behold.
Not only one of it was on the shelf, the number was over fifteen, but many was it in my eyes. I beamed at this helmet. Cute and sweet, the simplicity radiated in its various colours but black being my favourite colour took its effect on me.
I knew what I was staring at, I could feel it, I could taste it somehow on my taste buds, my eyes were fused at its beauty until I was snapped out of my glance by Moana, the charmer. I called her that as we exited the cafeteria a few minutes ago.
Hours ago, rather. Before then I thought the mind worked in sequential order but things grew grotesque all of a sudden, and I could feel my stiffened decision was about to change. I stretched my hands and pulled the Shoei RF-SR Matte Black helmet off the shelf, and held it close to myself like I would hold Moana and I had a feeling that she was growing sort of jealous only to turn and saw her grimacing at me.
She asked if I loved it and I nodded like the same five-year-old kid with the two cookies when he’s asked if he wanted more cookies. Then she said we can take two of it. Damn! Are you serious?
I couldn’t hide my shock. Do graphic designers earn that much for her to pull off an 800 USD full payment for a Shoei RF-SR?
I knew little about graphic designers and their earnings before then, and that left me wondering but I could not wonder long enough to ask after she completed the payment; I was just so excited to own one of every rider’s dream helmet.
We walked out of the shop hand in hand; she picked a smile at me at intervals, I noticed, but I couldn’t prevent myself from showing my teeth whenever she does that. Moana won my heart over and over again in such a short period that I concluded that there was no part of my heart for someone else to win.
We rode back home quietly, with her soft arms wrapped around my abdomen and her bosom rested against my back, our new Shoei RF-SRs kissed themselves as we rode through the highway at about sixty-seven miles per hour. It was thrilling, and there was very little I could think of rather than the angel the Creator has blessed me with.
Less than one half of an hour later, we were at her door, and she highlighted. Standing right in front of me was this beauty I had never imagined, my beloved girlfriend, Moana. She is glamorous; you need not to see her twice to validate my claim. She took off the helmet and let her hair loose, her pretty, long, brown hair; I could reel on the fragrance perceived earlier.
How did she learn riding
She said, “I would love to have such a ride someday.” I recall she told me she doesn’t know how to ride a bike while we discussed at the cafeteria earlier that day.
You want to own a bike?
Who’s gonna ride it?
I recall asking her.
And her response got me laughing hard.
I’m gonna fly it through the Interstate with yours behind me – was her response
I admired her focus and motivation then I offered to teach her how to ride a bike. She was glad, obviously and I was willing. It’s less than a month, and our connection was as strong as metallic bonds. Unimaginable. I was glad I found her, honestly. I couldn’t find the best words to describe how much I valued her.
We took riding classes; I was the curator though. She learnt pretty fast; how a human be so complete? I am undeserving; I must say. I thought her to the best I could, and she made me feel like an outstanding teacher and a perfect rider.
She looked fitted on the Ducati; I could believe that it was custom built for her. Fully geared with the Shoei RF-SR; don’t even think about it, my admiration for her knew no limits. She learnt eventually, learnt really fast and good.
A never to be forgotten riding with her
Two months of consistent training and saving to get a new Motorbike of her taste; I could see no better-improved rider than she was, I consented to a ride across the Interstate. She was on the throttle, and I was behind that morning as we drove smoothly downtown in search of nothing.
She rode across bridges with me and on the highway, around the neighbourhoods of New Hampshire and then back home. We sat together on the couch in my living room as we scrolled through the web searching for a motorbike seller.
Buying a used Suzuki GSX-R600
After a long search through various eCommerce websites, we stumbled in the publication of a Suzuki GSX-R600 with low mileage up for sale at a considerable price. She opted for it and eventually purchased the motorbike with my credit card.
We waited for the arrival of our new motorbike which seemed like forever; sometimes these independent sellers can be very psychedelic about things, but we waited. Cruising around and taking walks together around the neighbourhood whenever I am not working, and she’s not designing.
Five days after and there was our Suzuki GSX-R600 black and as described on the internet. Moana was happy, I could feel the joy in spilling everywhere, and I stood there smiling and staring at her as she sways around just after the delivery man handed her the keys to the motorbike.
The outset of that accident
When she turned and looked at me, she asked, “do you care for a ride?” I smiled, and the answer was, “Sure, I do care for a ride. But I will ride on mine with you and the new baby in front, just as you envisaged a few months ago.” I felt her grim, definitely expressing how accomplished she feels getting to achieve what she casually said.
She ran inside without saying another word, and I could tell what she was up to; I jogged to my apartment immediately to get the Ducati, my racing gears and the glorious Shoei RF-SR. I hurriedly rode to her lawn to meet her standing right beside her just delivered black Suzuki GSX-R600 fully geared with the same Shoei RF-SR in her right hand.
Her long, brown hair ponytailed as expected; she looked at me straight in the eyes with this beam I’ve never seen before but trust me, it was warming, and she said, “You wanna be Abram?” Let’s go to Canaan.
Canaan? Unimaginable! I never thought of an off-road racing ever since we met how come she wants to race with me in Canaan? I didn’t even get time to ask questions; I didn’t want to ruin her fun so, I just followed as she set the pace.
That was it! We were on the New Hampshire highways, and the speedometer just kept running up; trying to stay near her, I had to maintain a velocity that was synchronous with hers but damn, she was fast. At that speed, I was just wondering why she chose MX47 for an off-road race.
Well, I can’t tell, I’m just going to let her catch the fun she’s longed for all this while; I could see from behind that she was having the best of time riding on that black beast she appeared to have tamed perfectly.
As we approach the end of the road, I saw her trying to look back at me, maybe to confirm that I was still within view, of course, I should be. Just at that very moment, in the split of a second, she lost grasp of the black Suzuki, and she was sent screeching the asphalt on the highway.
I could not comprehend the scene, but I am confident about the fact that I saw her hit her head against the concrete beam separating the highway lanes. I stepped on my brake pads as hard as I could and jumped off the Ducati immediately as I raced towards her.
I don’t Usain would have gotten a chance against me at that moment. I raised her from the ground where she laid, terrified. She was okay. Although there were visible scratches on the gear she wore and a big dent on the Shoei RF-SR helmet, she looked perfectly alright.
The effect of rushing adrenaline was evident as I held her close to myself to calm her down. Cars on the highway have stopped with some persons dropping off to make sure everything was fine.
The just delivered Suzuki GSX-R600 was a few meters away from where we were on the highway. I carefully took the Shoei RF-SR helmet off her head, and there was my beautiful brunette angel unscratched with her stubborn, brown ponytail still intact.
You can’t but imagine the relief I felt to see that she was perfectly fine irrespective of the fact that she hit her head so bad that the Shoei helmet was dented.
The Last Scene
We sat there on the highway for some time, say 15 minutes as she held me tight and finally, I had to pick her up to the other side of the road, picked up the wrecked motorbike after I phoned for a tow. We rode back home on the Ducati Multistrada after that.
About the Suzuki? Well, the rest, they say, is history. And if you want to enjoy worry free riding, you should go for the Shoei RF-SR. From my experience, it’s the safest motorcycle helmet that any rider can count on.