When I was 19 or 20, a motorcycle was all I had for transportation. I always wore jeans and boots, but never any real upper-body protection. Because of the summer heat in Dallas, I often rode with a no-sleeve leather vest that didn't close in the front. One afternoon I was rounding a curve at about 35 MPH, got distracted, and ran into the curb. I slid face down on my bare chest on the asphalt, jumped the curb, then slid up the sidewalk (still face down) for another 10 feet or so. When I got up, my chest and palms looked like hamburger. It took about thirty minutes to push the bike home, and by the time I got there, I was startin' to smell. The smell wasn't because I was sweating; the temp was about 105° that day, and I smelled like rotten meat. Seriously - rotten meat! So there I was, chewed up, hurtin' like he11, bleeding all over the place, and smellin' like the back of a butcher shop. I recovered OK, but it left one of the stronger impressions of my life. Nowadays, I always wear either a thick leather jacket or armor. The armor in the Rochester jacket has already saved me from a repeat of that ordeal. I won't go riding without it.
