Earlier today, an ol' dude in DC yells out to me...Hey, hey man, how old is that jacket? I say...Oh 1986-87. He was like, OK, I don't do math that way, years dude!?! I yell, OVER 30! Then, I go in the gate, sit down on the bench and start taking. He tells me in his day he took out parts in a mortuary. I tell him in my day I took pictures. He says, he had a jacket like mine, but his wife stole it an ran off with another guy. I tell him my first leather jacket was stolen and this replacement was picked out by the girl I was dating...my soon to be wife. He points out an attractive 'sista' walking by, but tells me he is done, gave up on women. I told him the lady who helped me pick out the jacket died. We smiled at each other for a few seconds. With that, I felt I should head off and get back to my kids apt, so William mustered all his strength and gave me one hellava handshake goodbye.