James Burleigh
Well-known member
Since we’re planning to tour together more now on the more comfortable, new FJR, I wanted to get L some new riding clothes. Her current jacket doesn’t vent very well; it gets too hot in the heat. So I picked her up a nice sky blue-and-black leather jacket. I also wanted to get her some black leather chaps to wear over her jeans to keep her legs protected in the unlikely event of a, uh, mishap.
So here I am looking at the chaps when this sweet, doe-eyed sales girl (~20 yrs old) walks up to me and asks if she can help me. Well, frankly yes. I tell her I have no idea how to size chaps, which I want to get for my wife.
Sales Girl: “Is she about my size?” (Guy Translation: “Please look directly at and explore my body with your eyes.”)
I take a deep breath and, after several darting, wide-eyed seconds of exploration, tell her yes. I then note that I was just at another shop where the sales person told me the size of the upper thighs is the most critical fit area. I hold my breath…
Sales Girl: “Are my thighs like hers?”
Me (in high squeaky voice): “I’d rather not say.” :dribble: And then,
Sales Girl: “Would you like me to try them on?”
Me: “Gulp.” And then, “Thank you, Lord!”
So while she’s squeezing into them and contorting in ways that only a guy would find more astonishing than his first sunrise over the Grand Canyon, I’m surreptitiously looking around the store to see who’s admonishing me with a stern glance for being a mondo-pervert. :glare:
I turn back to look into the eyes of a sweet, smiling, triumphant face cocked a little to one side, both hands turned outward indicating “All done!”
I smile back, nod, remind myself I’m going to hell for being a pervert, :devil: and then give her the international swirling index finger sign for, “Could you please turn around so I can look at your bottom.” [see photo to visit JB’s cerebral cortex at this moment. ]
So I bought the chaps along with everything else she suggested: “Sticky-fuzzy wing-dingies for my FJR's wizzle-meister? Better give me a dozen!”
Man, I love motorcycling....
JB
So here I am looking at the chaps when this sweet, doe-eyed sales girl (~20 yrs old) walks up to me and asks if she can help me. Well, frankly yes. I tell her I have no idea how to size chaps, which I want to get for my wife.
Sales Girl: “Is she about my size?” (Guy Translation: “Please look directly at and explore my body with your eyes.”)
I take a deep breath and, after several darting, wide-eyed seconds of exploration, tell her yes. I then note that I was just at another shop where the sales person told me the size of the upper thighs is the most critical fit area. I hold my breath…
Sales Girl: “Are my thighs like hers?”
Me (in high squeaky voice): “I’d rather not say.” :dribble: And then,
Sales Girl: “Would you like me to try them on?”
Me: “Gulp.” And then, “Thank you, Lord!”
So while she’s squeezing into them and contorting in ways that only a guy would find more astonishing than his first sunrise over the Grand Canyon, I’m surreptitiously looking around the store to see who’s admonishing me with a stern glance for being a mondo-pervert. :glare:
I turn back to look into the eyes of a sweet, smiling, triumphant face cocked a little to one side, both hands turned outward indicating “All done!”
I smile back, nod, remind myself I’m going to hell for being a pervert, :devil: and then give her the international swirling index finger sign for, “Could you please turn around so I can look at your bottom.” [see photo to visit JB’s cerebral cortex at this moment. ]
So I bought the chaps along with everything else she suggested: “Sticky-fuzzy wing-dingies for my FJR's wizzle-meister? Better give me a dozen!”
Man, I love motorcycling....
JB
Of course they don't protect all of the important areas.
