Wednesday, October 29, 2014



The hall closet by the back door is where the non-motorcycling jackets and hats live at our house.

I’ve been looking for a particular Buff for several days and this morning pulled everything out of the two upper shelves in the closet. I didn’t find the Buff, but I did come to the startling realization that I was way more caps and hats than I thought.

Thirty-seven of them, to be precise, although I think there are more in boxes somewhere.

This means I could wear a different hat every day from now through Dec. 5 without repeating.

Eight of them are BMW motorcycle-related, four are from our favorite gas stop at Boomland, three from Breckenridge, Colo. (including a Gore-Tex Ski Patrol cap), two from Nepenthe in Big Sur, a couple of Duck Commander camo caps, three from breweries – Beck’s, Spaten and Flying Dog (before they moved from Aspen to Maryland), a fisherman’s cap that Sean brought me from his Alaska adventures, an Irish tweed hat that my dad wore, and a red Nike “swoosh” cap that my mom bought me, just because she liked the look of it.

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