It has not been entirely surprising that motorcycling is a regressive behavior, although they don't prepare you for the fact that you will actually feel like a kid when you're riding. More than this, they also don't prepare you for how comprehensive the regression will be. You will sneak looks at your bike as you're walking away from it. You'll find excuses to skulk out to the garage to see if it's really there. You'll read motorcycle magazines with an ardor not seen since you bought Playboy as a teenager (along with a get well card for your 'sick friend'...). And you will order things from the internet and wait breathlessly by the front door for the sound of the UPS truck crunching up the driveway. You will be 16.
I have done this a lot. Kevlar jeans. A brake lock alarm for the Honda. Armor. Boots. But nothing - nothing - comes close to the anticipation I'm feeling for the imminent arrival of my new jacket.
I found it online, at a place called Union Garage, in Brooklyn, NY. It's kind of a spiritual home for the urban hipster retro bike scene, and everything they sell is awesome. Awesome. I visited them this past spring (the store is the size of a walk-in closet), and they were as friendly and knowledgeable and passionate and and cool as you would hope. I like the world better knowing that Union Garage is in it. We will do a lot of business.
But first, this jacket. Check it out, and tell me you wouldn't buy a motorcycle just so you could have one too. Seriously.
No comments:
Post a Comment