Second Skin

The weather turned a little nippy this week here in the Republic of Texas, so I pulled out my old standby... My horsehide biker jacket. Fifteen years I have worn that same coat. Fifteen years. As soon as I slip it over my shoulders, there is no question about the fact we belong together. I got it before I started dating my ex-wife. I wore it to the courthouse to get married. I carried it to the Carribean with me when we lived down there. Everyone thought that was pretty funny... Until we had to come back to the States in October and I was the only one with a coat. I wore it on the way out of DC when I left my ex-wife, and I wore it the first time I flew into Austin almost six years ago.

A wave of emotion crashes over me the first time I put it on each year. Endless hours biking around the east coast, trash talking in a bar... Taking it out to the parking lot... This story.
A waitress commented on it the other day, she has known me all summer, saw me walk into the bar wearing it and said, "That is so... YOU." You know what? It is me. It's tough on the outside, a little worn on the inside, able to protect but mostly just show nowadays. And it's seen a lot of miles. A LOT of miles.