There is an old expression, “you can’t go back” which is derived from the sense of nostalgia return to “home” in the book by Thomas Wolfe titled, “You Can’t Go Home Again.” The expression means that you cannot really re-live the fun and happiness once felt in a fondly remembered location, but your good times there were long ago.

I have felt that feeling of loss or regret when I returned to my Mom’s small hometown in rural Oklahoma. It’s not nearly the same there, but that is for a future blog post.

This past Sunday, the Spouse and I felt that feeling again when we leathered up and ventured…

…into a hard-scrabble, hard-to-find, location in Washington, DC: the home of the “new” DC Eagle.

Back in the day, the “DC Eagle” was right in bustling downtown DC. I first learned about it in the early 1980s when the bar was located on Ninth St., NW. I was just beginning to figure out that I liked motorcycle dudes in full leather, but didn’t know why. I never had the courage to go there.

That old bar was displaced by the construction of the DC Convention Center, and moved to a new location on New York Avenue, NW, near Seventh Street. A leather store called “The Leather Rack” was opened on the third floor. In 1987, after several failed attempts, I finally had enough courage to visit that store and buy a leather shirt. But my heart was in my throat the whole time. I was afraid. I was fearful of the unknown and those “big bad biker leather dudes” who struck up a very imposing image.

After I met my man in 1993, he and I would go to the Eagle some nights, dressed in our full leather gear. Back in the day, the Eagle had a “leather dress code” that was enforced on weekends. All leather, boots, and the full regalia was the norm. Spouse and I were no exception. We fit right in.

Spouse taught me that there was nothing to fear. Most guys there were just like us — curious and enjoyed wearing leather and hanging out with other men who also enjoyed the leather scene. (Trust me…I am not naive as to what some other men were into, but this is a G-rated blog and Spouse & I aren’t into that/never were).

Spouse and I would occasionally go there for anniversary weekends, “Mr. DC Eagle” leather contests, and other events wearing our full “old guard” leather gear, just to have a non-alcoholic drink or two and watch.

Being the perpetual early riser that I am, by 11pm, I was dead tired and if we stayed as late as midnight, that was quite rare. Spouse would take me home and tuck me into bed, laughing that we were leaving just when the bar was getting busy.

Courage stronger, and unhappy with a previous “MC” club that had nothing to do with motorcycles, in 1995 I asked to join a gay motorcycle club associated with the founding of the original DC Eagle. I was eventually made a member, having paid dues by attending and staffing a number of “bar nights” and other events that the club sponsored. I also went on motorcycle rides with them, dressed in full gear.

But by 1999, Spouse and I had moved into the house in which we currently live, which is in the Maryland suburbs. Getting into downtown DC was never easy, and was worse after we moved. The motorcycle club began demanding my time to staff “bar nights” during the week. They also would not let my (then) partner attend parts of their meetings that they labeled “closed.”

So by summer ’99, I resigned from the club. Soon after that, the trips to the Old DC Eagle tapered off. We became more “home bodies” and much less interested in the nightlife scene — leather or not.

Fast forward… the Old DC Eagle on New York Avenue was closed in 2012 when the owner of the building that the bar had occupied for 25 years forced them to close to make way for construction of a new office building. Eventually, in late 2014, the DC Eagle landed in an old warehouse 32 blocks east of where it was. That doesn’t sound very far, but on city streets, it’s like it is on a different planet.

I reconnected with my old motorcycle club to offer current members a leather jacket and vest on which I had sewn the “club colors”. Those leather items no longer fit me, and since I was not a member, I would not wear anything with their club colors anyway.

I was invited to the club’s regular monthly meeting, held at the “new” DC Eagle to meet the guys who wanted my old vest and jacket.

When checking the new DC Eagle’s website, I was not surprised but disappointed to read “there is no official dress code, however it is highly recommended that closed toed shoes be worn.” Nothing about boots, leather, or anything else. I understand — times have changed. Few younger men can afford leather, so if the bar is to keep in business, they can’t impose a restricting dress code.

Regardless, Spouse and I put on full leather (boots, leather jeans, shirt, and jacket) and went there this past Sunday. I am glad we went in daylight, because this new location is very hard to find. Despite maps, if it weren’t for my Spouse’s good navigational skills, I could still be lost even today.

The location is very hard to get to. The roads going there are a bumpy, potholey mess. No way could I have gone there on my motorcycle — though most of the club members I met actually rode their bike to the meeting.

We arrived early (usual for me). We were … well … hard to say … not surprised, but also unimpressed, by what the bar had become. Essentially a twink dance bar. Not for us. Spouse and I sat at the bar for a little while. I drank a Coke.

We met some of the guys from my old club whose meeting was in the upstairs dance bar where tables and chairs were set for the meeting. The club members we met were friendly and greeted us warmly. I chit-chatted a bit, gave my gear to them as promised, then we left. Both Spouse and I were uncomfortable, or shall I say “uneasy.” This place was kinda scuzzy.

Oh well… as the title of this post says, “you can’t go back.” Spouse and I are very happy in our quiet, suburban, retreat away from the noise, confusion, and hassle of the city.

Life is short: keep fond memories, but don’t try to relive them.