I awoke Saturday, January 20, to horrible news that befell my country at midnight Friday due to people who are supposed to represent us failing to do their jobs. I will not turn this post political, but let’s say the DIC and his cronies are being dicks and my country suffers further at the cost of $138 million/day. Also, January 20 is the one-year anniversary of the disaster whose terror has proven true rang in my memory, too.
On top of that, The Spouse has not been well and caregiving takes its toll.
Thankfully, we were blessed with…
…a brightly sunny Saturday that was unusually warm (60F / 15.5C) for January in the Mid-Atlantic. So with the Spouse’s okay (and encouragement), I checked my Harley sideways from Sunday. It was in great shape having been stored for so long in the back of my garage. A little air in the tires and it was good to go.
I donned full leather, including my Langlitz Columbia jacket, leather jeans, and (of course) Chippewa firefighter boots, and got out for “head-clearing” ride. It seems like every time I am on my motorcycle, the freedom of the open road is calming and comforting. My cares, even for a little while, melt away.
As typical of me, though, I usually have a purpose when I ride. This time it was to run an errand. I rode to a leather repair shop quite a distance away to have a zipper sewn in to a Mr S leather shirt. Snaps kept popping open when I wore it and I was having trouble wearing it when riding my Harley without the snaps opening by themselves.
I parked my Harley in front of the leather shop, dismounted, put my helmet and gloves in the TourPak, grabbed the leather shirt, and walked in. I remarked that I had been there a couple weeks ago to have some patches sewn on a vest and noticed that they had long zippers. “Could you sew a zipper inside this shirt? The snaps don’t hold tight enough so they keep opening when I wear it while riding.”
“Sure, we can do that.” So the process began.
The proprietor of the shop is rather gruff and ultra-straight. He noticed the Mr S label in the shirt, and started making comments about where it came from and what “those dudes who wear this stuff” do.
Then he began looking at me — I have seen that expression before. He was asking himself, “is this guy gay?” He saw the ring on my left hand and my Harley parked outside his shop’s door, but he began wondering. I could see it in his glances and expressions, as well as looking for reactions from me as he made crude remarks about “gay boys.”
The situation was growing increasingly uncomfortable. I didn’t want to make a scene, but this guy was clearly prejudiced against gay men, especially gay men who like to wear leather.
I had half a mind to grab the shirt and leave, but right about then, a motorcop entered the shop (not in uniform, but was wearing his jacket with insignia patches on it). The proprietor was asked him what he needed (repair of a torn leather vest.)
The cop then noticed me standing there, smiled, and said, “hi, [BHD]. How ya’ doin’? Congratulations on [being elected to a ranking position in my motorcycle club].” I smiled back and said, “thanks. How is your son enjoying marching band?”
This cop is a friend of mine. I have gone riding with him on occasion, and have judged his skill during police motorcycle riding competitions. I knew about his son’s activities from (where else) — social media postings.
As the shop’s proprietor watched our friendly greeting, his reaction was … “interesting.” His attitude about me suddenly changed. He became respectful and stopped making snide and insulting comments.
As my buddy (cop) and I chatted, the proprietor completed the work on my Mr S shirt, and even tried it on to demonstrate that the zipper worked and the front lined up correctly. I was very pleased with the results.
What made the end of this story funny is that when I asked what the bill was, the proprietor said, “I’ll give you the police discount — how about $20?”
Fine. I pulled out my wallet, gave him a $20, took my shirt and said thanks.
After my cop buddy gave his vest to the shop owner to work on, we chatted a little while longer, and I had an opportunity to thank him for a rescue about which he was not aware. My friend just rolled his eyes and said, “some people never learn. Have a good day.”
I put my leather shirt in my Harley’s TourPak, strapped on my helmet, pulled on the gloves, mounted my bike, and waved goodbye. My friend waved back.
Life is short: sometimes there IS a cop around when you need one (smile.)
Hey…… Did I see a smile on your face on that Harley????
Absolutely!
Amen and hallelujah.
While it’s good that he gave you a discount, I think that it’s important to explicitly recognize that he gave you the discount because you passed as straight. Had the straight cop not been there, not only would you not have received the discount, but he would have probably kicked you out of the store for being gay. I recommend that you go get your leather repaired elsewhere. He doesn’t deserve your money regardless of the excellent quality of his work. I would personally rather wear a broken shirt on my back rather than be insulted. He’s the type that would vote for the cronies that you mentioned earlier in your post. Just my two cents.
Actually, I am of the mind that I demonstrate that being gay is incidental to who I am. People like that shop’s owner need to see that gay men are just like anyone else. We have lives, friends, and families… we ride motorcycles, wear leather, belong to clubs and civic organizations, etc.
If there is a “straight test” based on how I act, who I am friends with, and what I do, then that test is a failure. I will keep proving that… there is no test nor should there be one. People are people regardless of their sexual orientation.