Saturday, November 8, 2008
I don't like motorcycles. I think they're loud, they're dangerous, a status symbol for big, hairy bearded men, and a poor excuse to wear head-to-toe leather.
Yet for some reason, I have always wanted a motorcyle jacket, and on Friday, on impulse, I bought one. Ever since that point, I have been ridiculously happy, putting it on and pretending I'm some cool New Yorker that just got back from a trip to the corner cafe.
Why is it that buying one simple article of clothing can make you feel like a million bucks? Why is it that I will probably never own a motorcycle, but I'm thrilled to death to look like I do?
I guess now all I need is a big hairy bearded man to take me on a road trip. Let's hope that doesn't happen.