Motorcycle Vests
During World War II, the lifestyle that fighter pilots became accustomed to was both daring and exhilarating. They were beset by dangerous situations on a regular basis because they spent a good share of their time at traveling at high speeds and defying the laws of gravity. They weren’t necessarily engaged in thrill seeking, it was just the nature of the work they did as fighter pilots. In addition, their whole way of life was bolstered by the tight sense of camaraderie and teamwork among the pilots.
When the war ended and they were no longer flying regularly, it left a huge void in their lives. They missed the adrenaline that came from flying. Many of them took an interest in riding motorcycles as a way to fill that void. Sporting their bomber jackets they joined with fellow bikers and went riding together. Soon they began to form riding clubs. Flight suits and bomber jackets transitioned into leather biking attire that enabled the riders to identify with fellow riders and club members.
Most of the biking attire consisted of black leather jackets that sported their riding club’s patches and logos. The jackets served the dual purpose of being a symbol of status and belonging as well as protection in event of a crash. However, when it was too hot to wear the jackets all the time, many riders started wearing leather vests. This way they could enjoy the comfort of riding without a heavy jacket, but still have a place to display their patches. Motorcycle vests function primarily as a uniform for the activity of biking and associating with other motorcycle enthusiasts. Read the rest of this entry »
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It easy to rush into things once you’ve decided to buy a new motorbike, but have a little patience and save yourself a little grief and a lot of money.
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Ah, the tease of spring. Last weekend, the weather was supposed to be in the high 60s for two days, but Northeastern Pennsylvania got a taste of the mid 70s. I rode about 250 miles between those days without any problems. Well there was one. During a rip on my favorite mountain road, a swarm of bugs tattooed my vision; it appeared as if I was about to ride into billions of black rain drops. I was cruising along about 70 mph, and instead of relaxing on the throttle, I screwed it on a bit more. After storming through the torrential buggy downpour, I had to stop a few miles up the road to clean my visor. Not to be upset, I realized it was my bike’s first fling with the bugs of spring, and how convenient it was, considering I just gave my cherished CBR a bath.