As you might know I put too much time into thinking about the names of things. The actual name of this product is a “front mount bike seat for children,” but I think you can see, that name lacks sizzle, and it fails to capture the unique potential of the forward mounted position.
Perhaps you have seen this style of child seat and wondered if it was safe. It is safe, as a whole slew of prescription drugs will tell you they are, when used as directed. But what I know about humans is this: They don’t take direction very well.
And so, I would rename this product the “Kid-a-pult.” Please. Thank you. And you’re welcome.
I’d guess your sense of humor doesn’t have to be very dark to appreciate this rebranding. You’ve seen folks pedaling toward you with this device affixed to their top tube and thought, “Holy fudge brownies! That can’t be right!” The product suggests the problem, no?
Listen, I understand that, especially with smaller kids, having them there within arm’s reach of the parent is probably preferable to having them lolling around in a rear mounted seat. If you ask me (no one ever does), I’d say that children that haven’t grown bones or neck muscles yet, maybe oughta not be out on bike rides. With bigger kids, having them mounted high over the rear wheel creates an imbalance that can make steering, and stopping for that matter, more challenging than you’d guess. Moving that weight forward, and centering it between the wheels makes good sense, from a physics point of view.
But consider Punkin Chunkin. A young child is little more than an over ripe gourd with eyes. When your precious cargo is forcefully ejected from their perch by an unfortunate conflict between various laws of motion, the result isn’t gonna be pretty. Like Billy Corgan’s voice.
And you don’t want to see that happen, but maybe you do. Human cannonball‘s have been a thing since the late 19th century. We line up and buy tickets to see the soft flesh of our fellow persons being hurled through the air to almost certain doom. Is it our preoccupation with flight? Is it our persistent need to confront mortality (or watch someone else do it)? Or are we just kinda sick between the ears?
If you answered, “Yes,” you’re probably right.
Look, I am not saying that the parent who installs and uses a kid-a-pult doesn’t love their child. The overwhelming desire to share the joy of cycling with a humanoid too young to understand what’s even happening is surely a sign of love. But love does funny things to the mind, even, as I’ve said, when used as directed.