The airborne particulates rained down in an ashen flurry. The charred refuse of humanity - of civility. He always knew it would end like this. The twisted metal shrines perched atop the ruptured asphalt remnants of society. A battlefield of remote SUV's and tweaking truckers. This is why he had spent his life preparing. The countless hours of urban close-quarters riding practice. The years of mental solitude and ritual bike crafting. And of course the hording of gear. Specifically the helmet. A laminated carbon shell specifically equipped for the years of hardship to come. It's shape dictated by the jagged landscape. A peripherally extended eyeport to increase his situational awareness. Venting and nex-gen liners that allowed him to ride for extended hours should the situation demand it. And of course the composite structure of energy management carbon and foam should it all go wrong. He had paid the price, now he would reap the rewards.