You're tearing down a rain-slicked highway at dusk, wind whipping your face, and some fool in a Prius cuts you off. Do you flip the bird and gun it? Nah. You just lean into the throttle, feeling that buttery leather hug your frame like an old lover who knows all your scars. That's the mens brown motorcycle jacket life—raw, unapologetic, and stupidly luxurious. I once blew $800 on a...