Let’s face it, bikes are dangerous. It’s part of their appeal. There’s nothing like screaming down a mountain road on two wheels, skipping over asphalt on a 23-millimeter ribbon of rubber, nothing between your hide and the grating pavement below save a single layer of Lycra. However, you’re all grown up now, people depend on you and you can’t come home from the ride with a set of handlebars lodged in your brain, babbling about all the pretty birds flying around your head. You need to protect your noggin.

They started on the track, rocketing around velodromes at high velocity; then the bike messengers snatched them up, looking for light, fast, uber-reliable bikes that could withstand hellish urban war zones; then the hipsters caught wind, drawn to their clean lines and vintage looks. Now you want in on the action, and you’re eying your first fixed-gear bike.