Tested, SPOKE magazine review the 855
I’ve always struggled to ride in goggles. They look rad, but I find the lack of peripheral vision disconcerting: apparently my eyes swivel around in my skull like a couple of boiled eggs in a pudding bowl when I ride.
I don’t know why I’ve never tried riding in clear-lensed glasses. I think it has something to do with years of wearing vision-correcting lenses. I hated the feeling of glasses slipping and jiggling about when riding and always found the depth perception change between glasses and contact lenses off-putting. So much so that a few years ago I had vision correcting laser surgery (which is, without a doubt, the best riding upgrade money can buy and still cheaper than a new, high-end bike).
I’ve stubbornly stuck to naked eyeballs, though, despite the constant barrage of mud, rocks and water. Even a solid scratch on my sclera wasn’t enough to give me pause for thought. It took an intervention ... in the form of a pair of clear-lensed Badd glasses slipped in with some ilabb gear I was sent for testing.
Badd Optics is the brainchild of Tim White, a local BMX legend and founder of the iconic T Whites Bikes in Auckland. Tim started Badd because he wanted a pair of high-quality riding glasses that weren’t ruinously expensive. Riding bikes is hard on eyewear: glasses get battered about in pockets and gear bags but are expected to offer true vision while shielding your eyes. There are some good options out there, but they’re costly for something that’s so easily lost or destroyed.
Badds have an undeniably rad 90s vibe to them. It’s hard not to feel bad to the bone in these, like a leather-clad John Tomac wielding a Tioga T-bone stem. The Badd aesthetic is sharp like a razor, but they fit like a glove. The rubber nosepiece straddles my schnoz softly, while the curve of the frame and lens clings close to my face.
All Badd’s lenses are polarized UV400 and there are a range of different tints to suit your squint. The lens on the Smokeout model I tried had a barely perceptible yellow tint that brightened things slightly, which was great in the deep winter gloom.
I chose a wet run down Makara Peak’s rocky Ridgeline for my first foray into the Badd lands. I got most of the way down before I realized something: the glasses weren’t there. I don’t mean they’d fallen off, rather they weren’t there in the same way my eyebrows aren’t: I know they’re on my face, but I’m not thinking about them while smashing down a trail.
Something else was missing, too—mud in my eyes. I soon noticed I’d stopped gurning in anticipation of temporary blindness every time I hit mud or water. The feeling of ploughing through puddles, eyeballs exposed and swiveling, was liberating.
I’ve worn the Badds on every ride since, except for when rain made me wish for a pair with built-in wipers. The only thing I’ve had trouble with is cleaning the mud off mid-ride, but a scrap of microfiber towel in my pocket put paid to that.
They’re looking a little bit beaten up now, mostly due to low tree branches whipping them off the back of my helmet a couple of times on climbs, but they’ve resisted scratching despite my clumsiest efforts. And that’s the point of these glasses: even if you do wreck them, $69.69 is not a lot for a replacement.
Article provided by Spoke Magazine.
Words Justin Henehan
Images Boston Bright