Give To Me Your Leather, Take From Me My Lace...
A few years after we were married, sometime in the early '80s, Susan and I started frequenting outdoor flea markets, something we had done when we were dating. When the weather turned cold, we started seeking out indoor flea markets like the one at the Raynham Dog Track.
That's when we discovered Building 19, a New England discount warehouse-style chain store with 13 locations. We went to the Norwood store on Route One. It was very similar to an indoor flea market, and we realized the merchandise turned over quickly, so if we wanted to find any good stuff, we had to get there early.
We usually sat in our car waiting for the doors to open, not too unlike many other would-be bargain hunters.
Over the years, we found lots of 'good stuff cheap'. We bought our first legit kitchen set there. It included an oval-shaped table with large tubular chrome legs and a butcher block-like Formica top. The four rolling chairs had matching tubular chrome frames, with an open-weave seating area strung to light-colored wood. We thought we had hit the kitchen design jackpot and credited our early morning arrival with the success.
I bought another motorcycle, but I didn't have a leather jacket. Most of my riding buddies did. I wore a two-tone, medium-length dungaree jacket that was pretty cool, but it wasn't leather.
One Sunday morning, we walked into Building 19, and I spotted a random leather motorcycle jacket hanging on a rack. As I rushed over to it, I yelled to Susan, "Look, a leather jacket!"
She frowned, having seen me get excited in Building 19 about many items before, only to discover several flaws or that the item was total junk once I got a better look…
I snatched the jacket off the rack before anybody else could grab it, and with my eyes open wide, I yelled to Susan, "It's a 42, my size!"
Susan shook her head, and with great resolve, she attempted to calm me down, "Try it on before you get too excited…"
It was a cheap jacket, made of cheap leather, and her out was fit. If it didn't fit, all bets were off.
I put it on, zipped it up, and, looking at Susan very surprised, I announced, "It fits!"
She made me turn around like a fashion model to confirm. She smiled widely, half laughing, admitting, "It does fit you well. How much?"
I looked at the tag, "It's only $20!"
"Okay," she said. "Buy it."
I was so happy I finally had a motorcycle leather and it didn't matter that it was a cheapy, or that I got it at Building 19 for 20 bucks.
I wore it for a few years, until I sold my bike, but I kept it in our coat closet forever.
Many years later, after I bought another motorcycle, I pulled it out and laughed. It was a cheap jacket, so I got myself an expensive leather jacket with armor. But I kept that jacket…
Several years ago, Susan and I were invited to a Halloween party, and I decided to go as a greaser, more specifically, Arthur Fonzarelli (Fonzie). I wore a plain white T-shirt under the cheap leather jacket, tight jeans rolled up and cuffed with the belt buckle off to one side, and black biker boots. I slicked back my hair, and when I put double thumbs up and said, "Aaaay!" I definitely resembled The Fonz.
The other day, I was rummaging through the coat closet and came across the leather jacket. The memories of the morning I tried it on for Susan in Building 19 flooded my mind. My eyes immediately welled up. Life was so simple back then that finding a $20 leather jacket at Building 19 made our day.
Yesterday, I cleaned and conditioned the jacket, and I wiped off the excess this morning. It still looks exactly like it did when I spotted it on the rack at Building 19—cheap, but now it has so much more meaning attached to it, making it priceless. The zip-out liner is long gone, but all the YKK zippers still work! I'm never getting rid of it! It'll become an heirloom.
I plan on wearing it on my next ride… (Lovers forever)
Oh, I need you to love me, babyI need you todayGive to me your leatherTake from me my lace…