A Nameless Road Planner Deserves an Award

"Work, work, work, work." Aerostich, this company, is forty-three years old this year. Considering the recent decline in the numbers of motorcyclists interested in longer-distance riding and touring, we are doing ok. After the Covid pandemic ended, most business things for us more-or-less stabilized and we’re optimistic about the future. And although nobody’s getting rich and we’re operating at a smaller scale compared with our 2007-8 peak, everyone here is getting paid in full and on time. This means all co-workers, vendors, lenders, tax collectors - everyone. We have much to be grateful for. So many wonderful customers first, and a solvent business with a small amount of savings for emergencies after that. For any small manufacturing enterprise here in America, this is something.  With a few exceptions (One lawyer, one doctor, a few salespeople, a consultant, a real-estate re-developer and a DJ.) most of my extended family are middle-class workers or small businesspeople. I’m the only clothing manufacturer. My grandparents and great-grandparents were all immigrants as small children or young adults. One became a scrap dealer. Another bought and sold cows and horses then later bought, sold and rebuilt worn out farm tractors. Another was a gourmet chef at some kind of fancy club or resort somewhere in the southwest before becoming my step-grandfather.  I grew up speaking only English, attended only public schools, and later graduated with a BA from the state university branch in my hometown. During childhood I received a small allowance and the occasional visit from a Tooth Fairy. I shoveled snow in the winter, mowed a lawn in the summer and went to weekly Friday evening congregational services with my young parents, and then to religious school the following morning. I rode a Huffy bicycle, my most prized possession, and was pretty good with a slingshot and a yoyo. I also was a mediocre Cub and Boy Scout and a so-so builder of tissue paper covered rubber-band powered balsa wood airplane models. I read Tom Swift and Hardy Boys novels and usually wore jeans and PF Fliers. Religion played a larger part in the daily lives of my grandparents and their parents than it did in mine. Like me, they only spoke English, but their English was interspersed with occasional words and phrases from an old European language called Yiddish, which is a creole blending of German, Polish and Hebrew. All my ancestors had spoken it natively, but after they’d been here for a few years, they’d fully adopted English. None of them came to America with any wealth or little more than the clothes they were wearing, so everyone’s focus was narrowly about making a day-to-day living and assimilating. My mother’s father was actually sent here by his father when he was only sixteen or seventeen, simply to see what kinds of opportunities there might be over here. European peasant families were large, and at the time America was still expanding westward and actively welcoming most immigrants. He’d come in through Ellis Island and after a few years working in NYC had acquired enough English to start heading west, first as a peddler selling from a wagon and going farm-to-farm, I think. After a few more years, he’d established himself well enough to take a wife. He was around thirty by then, and he was also able to help a sibling or two to come over to America. By the end of his life, he’d put four of his five kids through college and had established a successful auto parts store. His oldest son served in the U.S. Air Force. My mother was an oldest child, and in 1938 she was ten years old when Kate Smith first sang ‘God Bless America’ on the CBS ‘Kate Smith Hour’ on her family’s console radio. She clearly remembered the moment all the rest of her life, of being with her parents in the living room of their modest home that evening. The reason she remembered it so strongly even though she was only ten is because her parents began crying as they were hearing it. The actual vintage radio performance is on YouTube right now, and if you have a couple of minutes and if you’ve never heard it, it’s still inspiring. I’m not here to suggest what news anyone should watch, or which ‘influencers’ (if any…) are most worth anyone’s time. But I do think manufacturing most Aerostich items here in America is worthwhile and this partly labels me as a capitalist (and maybe also a fool, among other things), but for me such identifiers fall well behind the challenges of simply making a living. Of “Makhn a Lebn…” And this is the same today as it was for my ancestors, and hopefully it will be the same for my successors, and most, if not all, of my extended family’s descendants. Recently, an interesting YouTube video, a short online essay, and a book about small-scale clothing manufacturing here in America all came to my attention at almost the exact same time, partly thanks to YouTube’s predictive algorithm, which constantly monitors everyone’s online viewing and entertainment preferences. Here are those three links with a brief synopsis of each. In no order of priority: 1.) American tools are worth it, every time. Confession…I’m a lifelong DIY amateur mechanic and household repair person. I like to fix things. Especially mechanical things. I can change tires, patch leaks, balance wheels, change motor oil, set valve clearances, disassemble, clean and reassemble parts, fix bicycles, tune, repair and maintain simple motorcycles, etc. I can even do a little light welding, cutting, filing, drilling, sanding, painting and fabricating. No one else in my birth family ever did any of these sorts of things. My tools are a disreputable random mix of old garage sale finds plus hardware, discount and auto parts store purchases, plus a few splurges like a couple of nicer quality torque wrenches. Still, I accept the point this essay makes that American-made tools are, in general, the best. And worth it. 2.) Manufacturing most physical things here in America has become extremely difficult to do profitably. This YouTube video is from a very popular series called ‘Smarter Every Day’. In this linked episode, the host-guy outlines the challenges he’s experienced and shares what he’s learned developing and producing a 100% made-in-USA BBQ grill scraper-brush, and it’s a story well worth watching. Goes a lot deeper than you’d expect. 3.) For more than thirty years, producing clothing in America has been one of the hardest things to do profitably. Production sewing businesses require skilled, talented, and hard-working cooperative human beings, not cutting-edge robotics. Cut-and-sew manufacturing operations can be located just about anywhere electricity, roads and people are present, and the output of such enterprises can easily be shipped trans-oceanic by air, or floated across oceans inside shipping containers. This book describes how a few companies (Aerostich is not mentioned) have managed to do it. If you’ve purchased and experienced Aerostich gear in the past, and have liked it, and have had good customer experiences with our crew, please let riding friends who’ve never tried Aerostich know. We sell only factory direct, and all new customers receive free shipping for their first order. Finally, and last not least, if you enjoy your riding mostly for sport, fun, and recreation, it would be ok with me, assuming you are able, if you’d also consider giving commuting, general transportation and utility riding a try. Getting around this way involves a little more work than getting around by car, but after you’ve gotten used to doing it for a week or two, there’s a fair chance you’ll keep doing it and never look back. It’s that much more enjoyable. My old 650cc bike gets 45+ mpg, too, which is very nice. Key elements making this kind of riding easier, safer and better include: Having enough good quality comfortable gear so you can ride in all weathers if you want to. Having a lightweight easy-to-manage bike that is just a bit faster (whenever needed) than the traffic you’ll be surrounded by. Not caring if it looks dirty and well-used (I last completely cleaned mine in 2024 when I needed to replace its stator, the part that makes electricity whenever the engine is running.) Having a small or medium-size backpack or messenger bag so you don’t ever have to worry about something you bungeed on falling off without you noticing it. Having a modular helmet so you can feel the wind on your face whenever you are riding down residential streets, and when you’re just stopping to fill the bike's gas tank. Or when sitting at a long stoplight waiting for it to change to green. Having a mildly bemused attitude about doing things the hard way, just because you can. Having a sense of gratitude for being able to ride in the first place. God Bless America. Work, work, work, work. - Mr. Subjective, August 2026

And a Little History Nonsense “What I always like about Aerostich gear (and the messenger bags…) is the little things like the buckles, shoulder pad, etc. While other gear makers use technical materials that stretch or have other comfort enhancing features, Aerostich's KISS-principled equipment that still answers questions of function in practical fashion seems, to me, to be a great long-term solution.” -- Zack Kurylyk, by email June 25, 2026 Thanks Zack. These messenger bags (and other similar bags made by others) are one of the most underrated and subversive products in all of motorcycling. They make it far easier to load and carry things when short-hop urban riding (commuting, errands, etc) and this greatly increases the likelihood of any rider choosing their motorcycle for utility transportation, instead of driving their car. If that is not what a subversive product is, I don’t know what one might possibly be. The larger mainstream world wants everyone to consume and use automobiles…Safe, comfortable, orderly, calming and uh, for the most part, overly boring compared to riding a bicycle or motorcycle. (Despite all that I enjoy using my car whenever I must use a car for some reason. This usually means driving only once every few weeks during the summer. Which, combined with aging, has turned me into a lousy driver.) Some have noted Aerostich messenger bags are a copy of pioneering messenger bags. This is partly so, but ‘Inspired-by” is a more accurate description. When we were developing ours several fairly good messenger bags were already being made, but they all were crude and intended mainly for commercial courier use. Before the internet and email, professional riders used either bicycles or motorcycles to quickly deliver legal documents (and similar) across urban areas quickly.  What is true about the development of Aerostich’s range of messenger bags is this: The first two messenger bag sizes (the Courier and Dispatch models) were created and introduced in 1988 or 89. Our first step involved sourcing examples of the two or three already-existing commercial-use messenger bags so we could study and experience using them. One was made in NYC by 'Manhattan Portage’, and again this bag was mostly sold to professional bike and MC couriers working there. Side note: they were made in NYC until 2002, then manufacturing was outsourced to somewhere in Asia.  They are still in business today. Another messenger bag was made by a company in Portland or Seattle, and I think a third one came from some company in San Francisco.  After trying each for a few days I thought we could improve on all of them, so our version included dozens of refinements and improvements. Some changes were more important than others.   For example, I did like the approximately triangular shape of the ‘Manhattan Portage’ messenger bag but that was about the only element. This bag’s overall detailing, and how the pieces were cut and arranged to be put together, and all the straps and hardware, were different from what I wanted. Every product is made to a recipe. Messenger bags are no exception. But note that a blueberry pie is not a copy of an apple pie simply because both pies come out of a circular pie pan. Same with a McDonald's hamburger vs. all the other fast food franchise burgers. Each business’s recipe is usually unique and different. The recipe for Coke and Pepsi is unique to each, and each recipe has its devoted fans.  Similarly, Aerostich messenger bags are different than all other messenger bags, despite and roughly similar shape to several of them.  Many messenger bags are approximately similar in shape, but the details are all different and add up to completely different products. Aerostich messenger bags are generally more heavily constructed and stitched than most others, especially the popular lighter weight bags from companies like Timbuktu and Patagonia. Ours are also very simple compared to many, but arguably a lot more versatile and durable. Ours have more useful and unique details like the tubular webbing grab handle centered at the top of the lid, and a large area of Velcro loop for the flap to attach to, even if the bag is over-filled and the lid cannot be fully closed. There are dozens of other examples of detail differences which make the Aerostich messenger bag recipe unique, and, at least to me, superior. I don’t specifically remember if any of the early messenger bags we’d purchased were made of Cordura nylon or if any had plastic (Delrin) buckles or hardware, or a nylon seat-belt webbing shoulder strap, but maybe one of them could have had such features (?). I do clearly remember at least two of them being made of heavy unwaxed cotton canvas and having aluminum or steel shoulder strap length adjusters. One had two short strips of reflective material clipped loosely to the top flap just dangling there. One of those bags was unlined. Another had a thin 1” wide strip of hook and loop for the flap which required careful alignment every time the flap was closed.  Another had a yellow nylon fabric lining. Several had ‘binding’ around the edges of the flap. I hate binding and like edge-stitching, which our bags have. None had that carrying handle I wanted on the flap.  None had any reflective sewn directly onto the flap or anywhere else.  None had an oversize shoulder pad on an easily adjustable shoulder strap. None seemed built as ‘heavy duty’  or were as carefully-detailed as what I wanted Aerostich messenger bags to be. Blah, blah, blah.   I obsessively wanted a more durable, more well-made and more well-detailed messenger bag than anything else out there, and that’s what we ended up with. Soon, I came to know several of the owner-operators of professional motorcycle courier businesses. One was a guy who owned and ran a successful messenger and courier company in San Francisco.  This was decades before DoorDash and the rest of the internet.  More blah, blah, blah.  Sorry. The last part of this is about how the bags we make today are not static, and not exactly the same as the very first ones.  Whenever we can figure out how to improve them, we do. For example, the reflectives and hook-and-loop used in these bags have been improved by their manufacturers several times, and we now use the current versions of both. And the oversized shoulder pads now hold up a lot better because we use a better foam for this application. There have been improvements in the patterns and stitching details also. These bags are even better now than they were. I’m sure incremental improvements will continue, but the core values embodied in each bag will always remain: Durability, ease-of-use, and functionality. - Mr. Subjective, June 2025 PS – These bags come with lots of old stories.  I remember one time someone filled one with loose ice and bottles of beer and were everyone’s hero on a hot campout.  Another time, it was campfire wood. The year we were introducing them, I’d brought a duffel bag full of them to the old Cincinnati Motorcycle Dealernews trade show and had reserved a time for a presentation to the editors of Motorcyclist magazine. That year they’d booked a private hotel conference room so companies like Aerostich could present their products to their editors away from the chaos of the show. At the appointed time I walked into that room and found the publisher of Motorcyclist, Dick Lague, the editor-in-chief, Art Friedman, and several other editors including Mitch Boehm, Dexter Ford, Tim Carrithers, Marcie Baritz and Nick Ienatsch. All were sitting around this big conference table in semi-reclining comfortable chairs. I set the overstuffed duffel bag on the floor, zipped it open and covered the table with an array of Aerostich messenger bags in many colors. Then I took a deep breath and in an oratorical voice declared: “The book pack is dead! The day pack is dead! This is a better way to carry stuff on a motorcycle!” Then I went on to explain the many features and advantages of messenger bags: Faster to put on than using bungees to hold something to a rack. More reliable than bungees and a rack. It took maybe five minutes of that oratory to explain the ‘why’ of the various sizes and all their technical details. I don’t remember any questions, so at the end I thanked them, picked up the now-empty duffel bag from the floor, and with a sigh of relief left the room exhausted by the stress of doing this presentation. A few months later, there were product reviews published about those bags, and they also started showing up in random Motorcyclist magazine editorial photos. Why do I remember this moment so well forty years later? Adrenaline, friends. Adrenaline is a memory fixative, and I was scared as heck having to give a product presentation to those moto-journalist experts. What did know about motorcycling compared to those editors? Today, I look back and wonder if any of them (all except Mitch, now long retired) still have and use one of those bags.  

Here it is, anyway… Summer finally arrived. All is well here.  The temperature reached near 80ºF yesterday. Everything was absolutely lovely until about 8 PM when the skies opened and a hard rain began. In the morning, I’d opened the R-3’s pit zips and back vent zip (each slider to the center) for the first time this year. A well-worn all-black Aerostich with at least a dozen years of regular day-to-day wear, and one replaced zipper slider which I’d only broken by impatient zipper operator error. Replacing it was a simple DIY five-minute fix. Worn underneath the R-3 was a pair of similarly old cotton casual shorts and a short sleeve ‘beach’ type button down shirt. I was riding mostly surface streets with my modular helmet’s chinbar tipped up showing my face continuously grinning from ear to ear, simply enjoying the summer riding experiences: An ever-changing endless kaleidoscope of sights, smells sounds and sensations coming at me at forty miles per hour while the bike was delivering its usual sixty miles per gallon. The rains came in the form of many large very cold drops, all from a bank of cold-front leading dark clouds. A moment earlier I had been enjoying an outdoor music event called ’Superior Porchfest’ which is a uniquely old-fashioned midwestern small-town weekly summer event. The musicians get paid, but everyone else, including the homeowners who donate their yards and electricity, volunteer. There’s a food truck or two, a porta-potty and a wide range of live music. Silk screened Porchfest logo T shirts and home-made dog food (no kidding!) are among many fundraiser items being sold. It’s a very pleasant event which builds community spirit and connection and a great way to end a workday or just get out of the house for a couple of hours. Each week the event is at different volunteered homes, with different musicians performing different types of music. When those rains arrived I was sitting in an ultralight camping chair I’d brought, enjoying a nice food-truck burrito thing (my dinner). At the arrival of rain everyone hurriedly packed up and fled, and the event ended a little earlier than we’d all hoped, but it was still a very enjoyable evening as long as it lasted. After I’d put my little chair back into its bag and deployed a travel umbrella and walked over to my bike (where the R-3 was draped over its saddle), I zipped closed those underarm and back vents, deployed the boot rain covers from their little pockets Velcroed onto the backside of each shin-covering leg, and stepped in -- zipping the suit around me, securing the collar, helmeting up, and then rode home through a gutter-filling downpour, still smiling all the way. First time this year for riding through both a hard cold rain, and a nice warm day. This combo was strong reminder of what partly the purpose of these suits was in the first place. Every time I arrive somewhere and step out with dry clothing underneath, I shake my head and grin. When I started street riding back in 1969 (ugh…), It was impossible to use a motorcycle this way without frequently experiencing the discomfort being too hot, and then (later) getting soaked by a cold hard rain. With all of today’s great technical gear, why don’t more people do more everyday riding? I was the only rider at the Porchfest’s free music event, and then the only one on two wheels riding through the downpour. Just to be very clear (and repetitive, sorry) despite the perfection of yesterday’s sunny delightfully temperate pre-rain weather, 97% of those around me in their cars in traffic had every one of their car’s windows fully up. They do this every damn day. It is an unbelievably uniform demonstration of mass-self-isolating behavior. How did this ever happen to us? I’m no heroic motorcyclist, but it would seem like our deeply ingrained human social contract, upon which ALL forms of collective action, and all forms of good governance so heavily depend, requires we all accept that we are, as the cliché goes, “all in this together”. And what seems to most strongly nourish and sustain this stuff is a universal shared exposure to common everyday experiences which transcend the infinite range of our individual self-interests and opinions. Until quite recently that awareness resulted in the creation of technologies and infrastructures which were made as much as possible around recognizably shared needs of people. Look at a street-scene photo of any city anywhere in the world before 1940 and you’ll see streets and sidewalks filled with people on foot. All of the worlds older cities are still like this. Those places remain crowded with pedestrians, bicycles, scooters and (of course) motorcycles.* Modern cities are different. Here in little Duluth Minnesota the older urbanized hillside directly abutting the Lake Superior shoreline is a dense mix of older commercial buildings and old homes and apartments. But just over the hillside away from the lake, it’s sprawled-out malls, big box stores, huge new apartment buildings and big and small homes on very large lots. Everything is spaced out to better accommodate the needs of cars. Not people. There are few pedestrian-friendly sidewalks because the distances between places of business and schools are way too far to walk in a reasonable amount of time. You already know which infrastructure better suits motorcycling, scootering and walking. I am a privileged car owner and occasional car user, though I enjoy riding a bicycle, scooter or motorcycle quite a bit more than driving. Even through pouring rain. For me, the satisfactions of single-track balancing motion is worth the extra effort. This means wearing an armored, vented, waterproof, abrasion-resistant coverall (or jacket-and-pants) plus gloves and a modular helmet. All this gear takes extra time and effort to put on and remove, and money to acquire. It also makes one feel like the perpetual oddball in traffic, even on the nicest days. But if your bike has fenders and you have the right gear, you never fear puddles or rain clouds. Riding nourishes us in real ways, and indirectly nourishes our shared underlying social contract, the bonds upon which you and I -- and everyone – depend on. Riding is like consuming a steady diet of fresh, flavorful organic food - while driving anywhere inside a sealed climate-controlled car, with all its windows fully up on nice days, feels more like enjoying highly engineered processed junk food. A continuous diet of mainly that highly processed food stuff eventually messes with our insides, and I type this as a lover of Cheetos, ice cream and “processed cheeses”, same as I love the comfort, convenience, efficiency and safety of cars. But whenever I am able, and have the time, I like to walk, pedal or motorcycle there even more. If you’ve read this far (?) you already know all this. Why don’t all those very nice people sitting around in folding chairs on someone’s freshly mowed lawn on a warm summer evening enjoying free well-played live music not seem to know it? Ok, maybe a third of them had to us their car to haul little kids to the event. They get a pass. What about the rest of them? -- Mr. Subjective, June 16, 2026 * This famous 1942 painting ‘Nighthawks’ is partly a comment about how industrialization and technology isolate us from each other. If it’s not too much trouble, please get off your butt and ride a little more often.

Guest post by Mrs. Subjective I saw husband tracksIn the snow the other day,Leading down a pathFor his own getaway. Those tracks of hisThey show me his grit;Being willing to ride in snowIs a whole other kind of lit. Preparing his bikeTakes work (and I’m sure some fun too),From siping tiresTo finding his groove. He said to me once,“The snow has to be just right.Better to have snow on the groundThan none in my sight.” He’s true to his motto —Ride to Work or work to ride,These words to whichHe will forever abide. The Suzuki Van Van,It’s his favorite winter bikeWith big, wide tiresThat’s what he likes. All bundled up,Facing the winter wind,His helmet secureAnd, I’m sure, quite a grin. Do I worry? Do I fear?Oh yes, but just a little bit,For I know he is clothed withThe best gear one can get. American-made —A Roadcrafter Aerostich!Equipment for ridersStraight from their pitch. His one-piece zip-in suitWith padding galoreGuarantees him the chance to rideMore and more… and more. Now you might think this is an ad,But no — I’m just a little savvyTo include a renditionOf my husband’s Duluth company. Although I must sayTheir products are quite stellar;Many a hideThey’ve saved from the gutter. But now back to the storyOf seeing husband tracks —I knew that since he left,He must also come back. It was nearing dinner timeWhen my belly cried out,So I texted him these words:“How about some takeout?” Pizza? Sure thing.So I put the order in.Away on his Van VanHe rode with a grin. It wasn’t the first timeHe managed a pizza on his bike,But this time aroundIt was quite a different sight. Opening the boxWas quite the surprise —Our perfect pepperoni pieSlid in that two-point-four-mile ride. Cheese off the slice,Pepperonis scattered about,I gave a little gaspAnd then laughed out loud. The way I look at it is this:If riding makes him smile,He should keep on keeping onmile after mile. If the only casualtyIs cheese off the slice,Well, I think that’s a win —’Cause it still tastes pretty nice. So get out and ride!Leave your tracks wherever you go,Whether you decide to rideIn rain, sleet, sun… or God forbid, snow.