If I could find a way, I'd figure out how to make a living as a writer.
The odd thing about that statement is, I actually have made a very nice life by writing. That's mostly what lawyers do. The only rub is, it's all too often a stress-inducing affair, and the writing lawyers do lacks, well, appeal.
When I started the
ScootCommute my only thought was to provide a public service of sorts, if anyone could find me, of course.
Well, find me they did. Many more people found me than I ever thought possible. Still, to cast the ScootCommute in its broadest category, it's a moto blog. That is a very, very, very narrow slice of the internet pie. The saving grace is that the internet is very, very, very, very, very big, and it's still growing by leaps and bounds. Even a minuscule insignificant crumb off a teeny tiny slice is something. Like the Earth is, in relation to the known universe.
The ScootCommute has allowed me to practice writing in new ways. In a more relaxed conversational style. As a story teller, rather than as a compeller of things yet to pass. In a way that people may actually read because my writing is tolerable. Not because my preface was 'without prejudice'.
Among the folks who have taken notice are publicists eager to get their products noticed beyond manufacturers' and e-retailers' web sites, in the vast uncharted sea of social media.
And that's how
Motorcycle House came to me, as it also came knocking on other bloggers' virtual doors, offering products to review.
I took my time deciding whether reviewing products was something that made sense for me, and for the ScootCommute.
Oh, right. I have reviewed products. Lots of products. Just check out the gear posts. The thing is though, I bought 99% of those products, or received them as gifts from friends and family. I was free to say what I wanted about them, unfettered by any kind of quid pro quo.
I treasure the creative freedom I have here, and I don't want to sacrifice it just to get my hands on some free products. I also don't want to waste sponsors' time. They have a business to run, and they have needs too. Last, but far from least, there is you. I don't want to disappoint you. Whatever I decide to write about, I want you to appreciate my words. I want you to come away with something you'll value. After all, a blog without regular readers is just a waste of bits and bytes.
In the spirit of the ScootCommute, after deliberation, I am pleased to introduce you to Motorcycle House. They have a lot to offer. Though the products they sell are primarily aimed at the cruiser crowd, even a scooterist like yours truly can find moto-happiness in their catalog.
Now that the introduction is out of the way, I'm sure that some of you will have clicked on the links to take a peek at their offerings. I'm equally sure that some of you are wondering which products tickled my fancy.
As you know from a previous post, the answer is 'jackets'.
I love jackets.
Always have, and I think I always will.
I've mostly been a shy-ish unassuming kind of guy. Except when it comes to jackets. One of the great things about riding is that I get to wear jackets. Serious jackets. Jackets with body armour. Jackets that tell a story. 'I think that guy rides. Check out his jacket.'
There was a suede fleece-lined Davy Crocket jacket that saw me through junior college. I still remember the sound and feel of the fringes as I trudged endless miles on cold cold nights. The fringe made my thighs sting when it was really truly cold. I know,
I know, but it was the 70's. 1970 in fact. I rode buses not Vespas back then. The shoe leather express. Psychedlic was in,
Easy Rider was in, I was in, sort of. I was serious about peace, love, and rock-and-roll. My generation had broken with the past in a serious way. We were revolutionaries, all of us. We were the counter-culture, we were anti-establishment, man. Jimi Hendrix,
Cream, Frank Zappa, and
Jefferson Airplane. The
White Album. The blues; Paul Butterfield, Janis Joplin, John Mayall; and serious folk; Joni Mitchell, Carol King and Leonard Cohen. We were going to change the world. Woodstock, weed,
Vietnam; and my Davy Crocket jacket. That, and my army jacket with the peace symbol painted on the back. Honestly. Those were the days. Timothy Leary was the high priest with a simple message: tune in, turn on, drop out! Haight Ashbury and the summer of love, my friends. How Susan agreed to date me back then is one of life's deep mysteries. I had hair down to my shoulders! My god I'm lucky.
Flash forward. The
Motorcycle House jacket I really wanted was out of stock. Wouldn't you know?
Fortunately, they have a heart of gold. They suggested that I try another jacket. Oh well, 'OK' I thought, but without much enthusiasm to be perfectly honest. 'What if we send you this other jacket and when the jacket you want comes in, we'll send you that one too?' Really?
And that's how Jacket Number One from Motorcycle House landed on my doorstep.
My next post will be a product review of Jacket Number One.
We'll see what you think.
Stay tuned!