High. Zoot.
Seriously. This bag is, without a doubt, high zoot. I don’t actually
know what high zoot means, or where it comes from, but this bag has
got to be it. I first heard the phrase uttered by a midwestern
refugee who talks like they escaped a 1950’s madcap comedy starring
Archibald Alexander Leach in reference to a peer who had spent a great
deal of money on an enviable gadget of some sort, and it sort of
stuck.
And this bag is enviable. The process of buying it was as good as the
result, and I’ll tell you about that a little later, but let’s talk
turkey on features first. It’s big. Eight heads in a duffle bag big.
Not that there are any rolling craniums round the manor house, but if
there were… this would be the bag to transport them with. It’s also
pretty slickly laid out with one major pocket that holds the brain
cell (not for hauling severed skulls either, so I’m not sure why they
sent me one, but it works well for a macbook pro anyway) and goodly
amount of other detritus. Like my lunch. My lunch is actually
traveling far better than it did my my old basic (in a converse chuck sort
of way) jansport two strapper. The trick is to take the lunch out of
the lunch bag and just let it be so that it can spread out over the
left over space in the flat pack pocket. The lunch kind of rides
along above my massive, I can present anywhere to anyone, with any
technology, cord collection. It’s safe, and ready for nearly instant
access in a snacky panic. Lunch is a big deal for me,
so I kind of get epic in my preparations and conveyance of my lunch.
Lunch is a sandwich, crackers, baby carrots and a banana. Epic
crackers.
I’m sorry, I digress. Sometimes I also digest, but that’s not the
point either. The point is that I’ve barely scratched the surface of
the abilities of the Super Ego. There is a WHOLE ADDITIONAL POCKET.
Let me pause while that sinks in. I have already packed my lunch,
computer and connectors, yet still have another pocket to place things
in. This pocket is the one covered by the flap, and from here out I
will call this one the pouch. The flap unflaps to uncover 6 small
sorting pockets, plus the large pouch, that also has an organizer
inside. I don’t know what sort of type A freak of organization school
needs that many sorting pockets, but if you’re the sort who needs to
place a note card containing one action item in a perfect spot, this
bag has got that spot. Myself, I just carry a phone. Sometimes two phones.
And a checkbook for when I am in places that aren’t civilized enough
for accepting fantastic plastic. No disjoined body parts in this bag.
No sir. Maybe a pair of motorcycle gloves that tuck into the
pouch like it was designed for them, and a sunglasses case that rides
in one of the two compression strapped bottle and maybe pen and a
notebook, but no organizational freak out for me. Nope. Nothing to see
here.
On the inside of the pouch and the flat pocket are these little round
plastic rings. I’m told that you can purchase additional
organizational aids for those, but I just hang my keys on a fake
carabineer from one and my work keys from the nifty tether attached to one of
the others. If I still flew as often as I once did, those clear
plastic pouches that Tom sells would be a trick feature, but I’m using
this thing on the back of two wheeled personal transport for the soul.
And as a motorcycle bag, I need to issue a warning. As I touched on
earlier, this thing is large. It works out though, because I am too.
If you’re shorter than 6’ 4” (you poor widdle dears) the bag might
hang too low and rest on the seat behind you instead of on your
shoulders where it belongs. Also, if you’re riding with this, upgrade
to the QAM strap. It provides the extra cross body attachment point
to keep your mildy aggressive left hand turn from becoming a
purple dinosaur on a tricyle jumping through a hoop of flaming swords
in front of a bus of cheerleaders style screw up. Also, the bag is
water repellant, not proof.
While I’m picking nits about a bag that was not marketed as a piece of motorcycle
luggage, but is being used as one, if Tom would please convert from one
strap for the pouch cover to two strap, convert the open top pockets
on the front panel of the pouch to snap shut or better yet, zippers,
and switch one of the two water bottle holders to a cellphone holster
with securing top, I’d throw children off a merry go round to
purchase another one.
Which leads me to one last nifty trick that Tom pulled with this bag,
the strap that holds the buckle that holds down the flap is replaceable,
changeable, magical goodness. I got mine in reflective, don’t run me
down white, but the cork is drool worthy for the design sense; cork
strip, corked bottle in the pouch, be still my hipster heart. Because
let’s face it, if you’re rocking a bag with the tech cred of a Tom
Bihn with brain cell, you’re probably working in a job where you’re
sucking down Kentucky Rye by noon.
I mentioned earlier that the ordering process is fan-freaking-tastic.
I meant it. I thought I wanted a different bag, but with great charm
Darcy mentioned I would probably be disappointed. She pointed out to
me the epicness of my lunch, and my need to steward it, and she was right.
To sell me the right bag, she shipped it to me along with the wrong
one I requested, including a fee return label and the offer to refund my
money for whichever bag I sent back.
Thanks again Darcy and Tom, I love my bag.
Seriously. This bag is, without a doubt, high zoot. I don’t actually
know what high zoot means, or where it comes from, but this bag has
got to be it. I first heard the phrase uttered by a midwestern
refugee who talks like they escaped a 1950’s madcap comedy starring
Archibald Alexander Leach in reference to a peer who had spent a great
deal of money on an enviable gadget of some sort, and it sort of
stuck.
And this bag is enviable. The process of buying it was as good as the
result, and I’ll tell you about that a little later, but let’s talk
turkey on features first. It’s big. Eight heads in a duffle bag big.
Not that there are any rolling craniums round the manor house, but if
there were… this would be the bag to transport them with. It’s also
pretty slickly laid out with one major pocket that holds the brain
cell (not for hauling severed skulls either, so I’m not sure why they
sent me one, but it works well for a macbook pro anyway) and goodly
amount of other detritus. Like my lunch. My lunch is actually
traveling far better than it did my my old basic (in a converse chuck sort
of way) jansport two strapper. The trick is to take the lunch out of
the lunch bag and just let it be so that it can spread out over the
left over space in the flat pack pocket. The lunch kind of rides
along above my massive, I can present anywhere to anyone, with any
technology, cord collection. It’s safe, and ready for nearly instant
access in a snacky panic. Lunch is a big deal for me,
so I kind of get epic in my preparations and conveyance of my lunch.
Lunch is a sandwich, crackers, baby carrots and a banana. Epic
crackers.
I’m sorry, I digress. Sometimes I also digest, but that’s not the
point either. The point is that I’ve barely scratched the surface of
the abilities of the Super Ego. There is a WHOLE ADDITIONAL POCKET.
Let me pause while that sinks in. I have already packed my lunch,
computer and connectors, yet still have another pocket to place things
in. This pocket is the one covered by the flap, and from here out I
will call this one the pouch. The flap unflaps to uncover 6 small
sorting pockets, plus the large pouch, that also has an organizer
inside. I don’t know what sort of type A freak of organization school
needs that many sorting pockets, but if you’re the sort who needs to
place a note card containing one action item in a perfect spot, this
bag has got that spot. Myself, I just carry a phone. Sometimes two phones.
And a checkbook for when I am in places that aren’t civilized enough
for accepting fantastic plastic. No disjoined body parts in this bag.
No sir. Maybe a pair of motorcycle gloves that tuck into the
pouch like it was designed for them, and a sunglasses case that rides
in one of the two compression strapped bottle and maybe pen and a
notebook, but no organizational freak out for me. Nope. Nothing to see
here.
On the inside of the pouch and the flat pocket are these little round
plastic rings. I’m told that you can purchase additional
organizational aids for those, but I just hang my keys on a fake
carabineer from one and my work keys from the nifty tether attached to one of
the others. If I still flew as often as I once did, those clear
plastic pouches that Tom sells would be a trick feature, but I’m using
this thing on the back of two wheeled personal transport for the soul.
And as a motorcycle bag, I need to issue a warning. As I touched on
earlier, this thing is large. It works out though, because I am too.
If you’re shorter than 6’ 4” (you poor widdle dears) the bag might
hang too low and rest on the seat behind you instead of on your
shoulders where it belongs. Also, if you’re riding with this, upgrade
to the QAM strap. It provides the extra cross body attachment point
to keep your mildy aggressive left hand turn from becoming a
purple dinosaur on a tricyle jumping through a hoop of flaming swords
in front of a bus of cheerleaders style screw up. Also, the bag is
water repellant, not proof.
While I’m picking nits about a bag that was not marketed as a piece of motorcycle
luggage, but is being used as one, if Tom would please convert from one
strap for the pouch cover to two strap, convert the open top pockets
on the front panel of the pouch to snap shut or better yet, zippers,
and switch one of the two water bottle holders to a cellphone holster
with securing top, I’d throw children off a merry go round to
purchase another one.
Which leads me to one last nifty trick that Tom pulled with this bag,
the strap that holds the buckle that holds down the flap is replaceable,
changeable, magical goodness. I got mine in reflective, don’t run me
down white, but the cork is drool worthy for the design sense; cork
strip, corked bottle in the pouch, be still my hipster heart. Because
let’s face it, if you’re rocking a bag with the tech cred of a Tom
Bihn with brain cell, you’re probably working in a job where you’re
sucking down Kentucky Rye by noon.
I mentioned earlier that the ordering process is fan-freaking-tastic.
I meant it. I thought I wanted a different bag, but with great charm
Darcy mentioned I would probably be disappointed. She pointed out to
me the epicness of my lunch, and my need to steward it, and she was right.
To sell me the right bag, she shipped it to me along with the wrong
one I requested, including a fee return label and the offer to refund my
money for whichever bag I sent back.
Thanks again Darcy and Tom, I love my bag.
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