A Girl and Her Aerostich

By Guest Blogger Margie Siegal

It's blazingly hot on the road. I pull into a rest stop, enter the ladies room, strip down to my sport bra and rinse my cotton T shirt out in the sink. The other women in the room either smile at me or are involved in their own pursuits. The T shirt goes back on over the sport bra and the Aerostich goes over the T shirt, with all the vents opened. One woman starts asking me how I stay cool on such a hot day with all the protective gear on. I explain that air goes through the vents and evaporates the water in the T-shirt producing a form of air conditioning. She comments, “I knew you were an OK person because you were so into safety.”

Girls have pounded into them very early on that it is vitally important to look good, no matter what the occasion. When the girl grows up and decides to ride a motorcycle, this training can get in the way of picking appropriate gear. “Looking good” has very little to do with comfort or safety. Designers of women-specific motorcycle gear go through contortions trying to make bike wear both fashion forwards and appropriate for the rigors of motorcycle riding. Most of the time, the perceived requirement to have the gear be fashionable trumps waterproofness, appropriate padding, storage capacity and abrasion resistance.

Then there is the Aerostich – which doesn't even try to be fashionable or trendy. The sheer utilitarian -ness of the garment bothers some people. You might even call it anti-fashion. Once I let go of the need to look good in the fashion of the moment, I found an Aerostich to be very useful in many different ways.

I do a lot of traveling by myself and the Aerostich serves multiple roles. On the bike, it keeps me warm, dry, and protected from the wind. The reflective tape and bright colors help me be seen by distracted car drivers. Off the bike, it keeps me warm on cold nights. It also serves as an ambassador to non-riders.

Suited up, I look like an alien- silver full face helmet, sunglasses, Aerostich, boots. I often play this up. “Take me to your leader.” Non-riders see the alien act as either as cute or amusing. I feel that both reactions are positive: the last thing I need is being seen as a threat. The locals tend to react badly to threats, and there are more of them than me. Like many women, I am concerned about personal safety. Unlike many women, I go out on the road anyway. However, I feel safer looking androgynous and somewhat nerdy in my Aerostich.

Other non-riders – like the woman at the rest stop – see the Aerostich as a sign that I am into safety and therefore a person that she can relate to – maybe eccentric, but a human like herself. Many non-riders do not feel that a motorcyclist is someone “normal” people can relate to. To many of these folks, “motorcyclist” equals “Hells Angel.” This is not a good perception if you want to get along, even if only for an evening, in a small town. If you don't think that a significant minority of non-riders think this way, I respectfully disagree with you.

A while back, I walked into a small town motel and asked for a room for the night. The clerk (female) asked several times if I was by myself. I thought this was odd, but I was tired and this was the only decent motel in several miles. About a half hour later, I was outside my room checking the oil level and lubing the chain when the clerk turned up, very apologetic. She had thought I was the advance guard for a thundering herd of greasy outlaws!