BEST OF JODY’S BOX: “GIRLS LOVE A MAN IN A UNIFORM”…BUT NOT AS MUCH AS A LITTLE KID
BY JODY WEISEL
I was a Cub Scout because I dug the gold piping on that snappy blue uniform. I only grudgingly gave up my Cub uniform for the duller Boy Scout uniform. It was like going from Imperial Star Trooper to the garbage collector.
My fascination with uniforms probably goes back to my family upbringing. My father was Colonel in the U.S. Air Force. I grew up on Air Force bases, where what people wore signified their position in the pecking order. One bar is a lieutenant, two bars a captain and, highest of high, pilots wore silver wings. I still have my father’s hat—scrambled eggs and all. It has often been said that “girls love a man in a uniform”…but not as much as a little kid.
I spent my childhood marveling at anything with epaulets, brass buttons or insignia. Fireman, policeman, sailor, coast guardsman or merchant marine, I knew all the ins and outs of their official dress. I became an aficionado of uniforms. When I went to Saturday matinees, I always chose war movies. I rooted for the Americans, but even at ten years old I could see that the German Army uniforms looked high tech. Of course I knew that Queen Elizabeth I put buttons on the sleeves of the palace guard’s coats to keep them from rubbing their noses on their cuffs, that race car uniforms have epaulets so that safety personal can pull them from a car and that the leather jackets of WWII pilots had maps of Europe printed on their liners (in case they got shot down). The only thing I never understood was why baseball managers wore uniforms, but football coaches didn’t. I mean, was there any possibly of Tommy Lasorda filling in for Orel Hershiser.
“I KNEW ALL THE INS AND OUTS OF OFFICIAL DRESS. THERE IS NO DOUBT THAT IF I HAD LOOKED GOOD IN BLACK I WOULD BE A PRIEST RIGHT NOW.”
I played baseball in the summer so that I could wear knee socks and knickers, football in the fall to get a helmet and shoulder pads and hockey in the winter for the suspenders. There is no doubt that if had looked good in black I would be a priest right now.
Early ’70s time capsule photo: Starting at the top is the open face helmet, duckbill visor, Carrera goggles around my neck and Jofa hanging down (also hanging down are my long curly locks), a blue and yellow Hallman GP chest protector (with my name printed on it), goat skin gloves with rubber strips sewn on, black leather pants with quilted padding sewn into them, seven-buckle Full Bore boots, Hodaka Super Rat (with Webco head and fiberglass CZ gas tank), stripped down Yamaha RT360 and a Volkswagon Camper van.
For a kid who loved uniforms, I couldn’t have picked a better sport than motocross. It’s got everything. On race day I get to put on long socks, carbon fiber knee braces, nylon pants, heavy plastic/leather boots, polyester jersey, plastic chest protector, stretch opera gloves, full coverage fiberglass helmet and wide-strap goggles with colorful logos. Underneath it all is a serious race face, broken by an occasional giggle. I love motocross clothes when I put them on, but am mystified by the fashion choices of the men around me.
“What in high heavens is Stumpy Phalange wearing,“ I asked Monte Floyd last weekend.
“Oh, that’s the new gear from Cranky Wear,” said Monte. “They are one of those freestyle companies trying to crack the motocross market. They signed the Yamaha team to wear that stuff for a million dollars.”
“It would take more money than that I get me to wear plaid with bumblebee stripes,” I said.
In the good old days we had an official uniform. It consisted of solid colored black leather pants with a white stripe up each side side. Black boots were the norm (but white boots were the fashion forward choice) and helmets were solid white or solid black. Everybody dressed the same. We didn’t have fancy helmet paint jobs, wouldn’t be caught dead in neon and the word “fluorescent” referred to light bulbs. Socks were folded over the top of boots and anything not standard issue was a fashion faux pas.
You are over thinking it when you choose the color of your gear to match the color of the dirt you are racing on.
Oh, we had our own little personal touches. Swedish riders could wear blue leathers with yellow side stripes and the world of visors was open to interpretation (although the duckbill ruled supreme). I wore a Jofa, but I rarely snapped it on, preferring to let it dangle in the wind. Everybody, who was anybody, wore Carrera goggles. Even the number of buckles on your boots was regimented (seven was the correct number), but rebel that I was I switched to Heckels. They were part of my uniform.
Somewhere along the way we all got “Oprah-ized,” call it feminized if you will, but the manly men of motocross got fashion sense. The uniform look was out and printed patterns were in. The glory days of flowers, zebra stripes, twills and tweeds might have gone on forever, but Jeff Emig accidentally killed the style when he wore Barbed Wire and Bad Boyz gear. It wasn’t replaced with any single look, just a potpourri of stripes, slashes, colors, panels, material and cuts. Today, there are over 15 different clothing companies offering their wares. With new brands coming on the market every day it is getting harder to appeal to the now splintered fashion sense of motocrossers.
“You want a laugh,” said Monte Floyd. “Look at that guy over there. He’s got white boots, white/orange pants, orange/white jersey and an orange helmet. Is that gauche or what?
“Where,” I asked?
“Right here,” he said as he pointed to a large van window so that I could see my reflection in the tinted class.
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