In my mind, I’ve worn the Smith Hardline on hundreds of rides, though never on actual trails. Pulling the medium-sized downhill-rated ASTM F1952 lid over my head felt perfect – snug in all the right places, without pressure points. Heck, I didn’t even need to use the included 3-zone pads to fine-tune the fit.
Lacing the nylon strap through the stainless steel D-ring buckle lid was irritating. Fine fingerwork with an immobilised wrist tugged at the stainless steel Kirschner wires that pierced scabbed holes at the base of my hand. Ouch. The small-diameter bastards built from the same material as the D-ring closure delicately supported the bone structure while my ligaments slowly regrew.
Similarities between the Hardline and my temporary wrist splint ended at the black colour. The Hardline takes the technical safety cake, with a Koroyd energy-absorbing structure, MIPS liner, antibacterial washable padding, and collarbone impact protection zone – to stop that sharp helmet edge from cracking a clavicle.
The stealthy black Hardline felt unbearably warm in the late-spring sun. Under intended conditions, cool air should blast into the six brow vents, evacuating heat through the ten exhaust vents spanning the top of the cranium to the base of the skull. I sensed none of this; the still air of a Squamish backyard patio was a shitty testing ground for helmet ventilation.
I hadn’t ridden in months. A significant wreck dislocated my wrist, halting summer dreams behind handlebars. I craned my neck to hear my buddy giggling as he inquired how difficult it was to sip a beer while wearing a full-face bike helmet.
Admittedly, this scene was ridiculous, but I’ve been a professional daydreamer most of my life. Technical gear cosplay has bought me a thrill. A quick patio full-face session had me visualizing a blissful return to dirt. My buddy remarked how sharp the Hardline looked, and asked to try it on, “to see how it fit.” He wanted in on the action, even if a slight amount of my brow-sweat ended up on his face.
At home, I wore the Hardline reasonably often. Pete mentioned it could be a talisman of riding that lives in my kitchen as my wrist recovered. Hardline couch sessions offered brief reprieves of joy, particularly while scrolling through Deniz’s riding pictures or watching POVs of local trails.
My partner has witnessed this masquerade before, during the night before ski season. A new pair of goggles could be used to build a fantasy of powder-filled tree runs, despite actual snow conditions to the contrary. I ventured to the bathroom as my partner brushed her teeth. Raising her gaze from the sink to the mirror, she jolted, spitting residual toothpaste as a helmeted & goggled weirdo stood behind her. It was me: DorkMan.
I know I’m not the only middle-aged person who has worn gear out of context, attempting to conjure stoke when the action felt light-years away, so let’s hear your stories! At the time, the slick Smith Hardline was a placeholder for rides to come. Now that I’m back on two wheels, I’ll report back soon on how it actually does on appropriately rowdy rides, instead of mere mindsurfing. Fingers crossed I don’t have to test the impact protection!