I’ll never ask for anything else as long as I live

A girl should always keep a leather jacket in her car, just in case she’s invited on a motorcycle ride. True, I no longer acquire articles made of animal skin. However, the jacket in the trunk, underneath the picnic table that came standard with my CRV, predates my vegetarianism. Hell, it predates my puberty.

That jacket is — literally — 20 years old.

I don’t recall the occasion that made me think it was a good idea to store it in my car, but I do know that the last time I wore it was on a motorcycle ride on Pacific Coast Highway, circa 1999.

Today, while on the job, I was invited to accompany a strange man on a charity motorcycle run. I changed into my black leather jacket, was amused that I could zip it up, and waited for him by the Honda motorcycle that I thought was his. When the thousands of other bikers mounted their bikes, I was surprised to see a couple that was not my date approach the Honda. By then, the parking lot was a sea of chrome, leather and red Santa hats, and I couldn’t find my friend.

So, yeah, I feel a little like I was stood up by a biker.