This after­noon’s massive thun­der­storm caught me while I was out on my bike, so I ducked into a nearby Goodwill for shelter. My little brother (that is, younger & narrower) mentioned recently that he needed a tweed jacket (for what nefar­i­ous purposes I’m not certain) and in my idle browsing I found a handsome one made by Burberry. It appeared to be unworn—the pockets were still sewn shut. Once the storm let up I packed it into my water­proof pannier and set off, only to be met by another torren­tial downpour crossing the Manhat­tan bridge. I arrived home soaked, but the jacket was nice and dry. Upon further exam­i­na­tion, it wasn’t completely unused—there were two slips of paper in the inner pocket with Arabic script on them, inde­ci­pher­able to me except for the word TRANSTU. This turns out to be the Tunisian public transit system. So, some diminu­tive chap wore his spotless made-in-the-USA Burberry blazer on a trip to Tunisia, all the while with nowhere to stuff his wallet, and donated it the Goodwill imme­di­ately upon return­ing? Who the hell was this guy? Where else has that thing been? This is one reason a love buying from thrift stores, aside from the rela­tively prosaic fact that I bought my brother a Burberry blazer for $25.