I sure do.
And before anybody gets the wrong idea, I'm talking about Cat Crap Anti-Fog Lens Cleaner—a little tub of stuff with perhaps the most ridiculous name ever given to a genuinely useful motorcycle product.
Most of the riding season, I'm perfectly happy wearing a skid lid. I've never particularly liked full-face helmets. I like the wind, I like being able to hear what's going on around me, and I just don't care for having my entire head stuffed inside a plastic bucket.
There are some other advantages to an open-face helmet, of course. It's considerably easier to smoke cigarettes and drink beer while you're riding.
For legal purposes, we'll call that a joke.
But eventually Washington does what Washington does. Summer disappears, temperatures start dropping, rain becomes increasingly likely, and there comes a point every year when even I have to admit that having something between my face and the weather isn't such a terrible idea.
So the full-face buckets come down from the shelf.
And every year I'm reminded of one of the things I hate about them.
The goddamned visor fogs up.
My solution to that particular problem came from one of those wonderfully strange encounters you only seem to have when you're traveling on a motorcycle.
It was late September of 1997 and I was in Whistler, British Columbia. The weather had reached the point where a full-face helmet made sense, and I was thoroughly pissed off about my visor continually fogging up.
I was standing outside in town when this filthy-looking hippie dude came absolutely hauling ass past me on one of the strangest contraptions I'd ever seen.
It was a skateboard.
Powered by a weed-eater motor.
And the damned thing actually moved pretty good.
He pulled up and we started talking. Naturally, most of the conversation was initially about his motorized skateboard, because when some guy goes buzzing through Whistler on a weed-eater-powered skateboard in 1997, you have questions.
Eventually I got around to bitching about my helmet.
The visor kept fogging up.
He looked at me and said:
“Put some Cat Crap on it.”
What the hell did you just say?
I figured he was being a smartass. Maybe it was some Canadian expression I hadn't heard before. Maybe the hippie with the motorized skateboard was simply fucking with the American biker.
Nope.
Cat Crap, he explained, was an actual anti-fog treatment. Skiers used the stuff on their goggles. Then he pointed toward a ski shop and told me I could buy some there the following day.
So that's precisely what I did.
And damned if the filthy hippie wasn't right.
That was 1997.
It's now 2026, and I still keep Cat Crap around.
Motorcycles have come and gone. Helmets have come and gone. I've ridden a hell of a lot of roads since that trip through British Columbia.
But when the weather turns shitty and the full-face helmet comes back out, so does the Cat Crap.
That's probably the best product review I can give it.
Nobody sent me a free sample. Nobody paid me to discover it. There wasn't an affiliate link involved. Amazon wasn't even part of the equation.
Some random hippie on a weed-eater-powered skateboard told me about the stuff almost thirty years ago, I tried it, and I've been using it ever since.
Sometimes that's how the best pieces of riding gear find their way into your saddlebags.
Despite the name, Cat Crap is simply an anti-fog lens treatment. You apply a small amount to an appropriate lens or visor according to the manufacturer's directions, and it helps reduce the condensation that creates that maddening layer of fog between you and the road.
It's particularly handy this time of year in Washington, when cooler temperatures, moisture and your own warm breath can turn a perfectly clear face shield into something considerably less useful.
A little container doesn't take up much room, either. Mine has spent years getting knocked around with all the other miscellaneous crap that seems to accumulate in motorcycle luggage.
Is it glamorous riding equipment?
Nope.
But neither is being able to see where the hell you're going.
I can't tell you what belongs in yours.
I can tell you what's been in mine.
If you've ever sat at a stoplight cracking your visor open because you can't see through the damned thing—or tried to deal with a fogging shield on a cold, wet Washington ride—you already understand the problem.
This is the solution some filthy hippie in Whistler gave me in 1997.
Turns out he knew what he was talking about.
Yep. That's really what it's called.
I've been using this stuff for nearly thirty years. If you'd like to give it a try, you can find it here:
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