In the dust storms of Iraq, I was changing the chain on my motorcycle as a fleet of Harleys roared past along the supply line—the clatter of engines mixed with the wind and sand hitting my helmet, and the "get high first, get high later" vibe was like a battlefield charge. Now, in my garage, using the wrench I used to repair tank tracks, I'm screwing "the heat of battlefield smoke, the twang of motorcycle gears, and that 'free-spirited' Harley" into this leather bracelet.

Every detail resonates with the notion of "battlefield and highway."
The "wildness" of the leather cord: The black leather cord is from retired military boots (those boots I've walked through bomb craters in Baghdad and the asphalt of Route 66). The braid's pattern is modeled after the links of a tank track. It feels as rough as the palm of a mechanic's glove, yet it bears the heat of "fresh off the line of fire." The worn marks are from repeated scraping with a saber sheath, each like a spark from a Harley Davidson on a gravel road.
The "hardness" of the silver jewelry: The Harley Davidson silver badge is melted from retired military medallion silver (my comrade's name is still engraved on the badge, and his serial number is now visible through the black lines on the badge's base). The gear beads on either side of the silver badge are repurposed from the drive shaft of an Apache helicopter (that shaft has been with me for 376 hours, and the teeth are still clogged with Kandahar sand). The gear teeth are intentionally left unpolished, rubbing against my wrist like the numb feeling of a motorcycle gearshift lever pressing against my palm.
The "soul" of the buckle: The silver buckle is made from an M1 rifle magazine (which once held three rounds and saved my life in Fallujah). The click it makes when it engages is the same sound as loading a rifle—proof that I've been through life and death, and now embrace freedom.
