In Southwestern Pennsylvania we're enjoying the few short weeks when the fall leaves are at their most beautiful. Take a ride, see them now. Their vibrant show will be over in a flash, and we'll be cursing the dull brown remains as we do battle with rake and blower.

Like the colorful foliage, my Belstaff jacket is making its welcome but very brief yearly appearance. I bought the waxed cotton Trialmaster in 1996, and it's the perfect riding partner when conditions are exactly right, but its usefulness is as fleeting as the leaves on the trees.

The Belstaff Company was founded in London, England in 1924, making waterproof gear for men and women utilizing their famous "wax" cotton, perfect for keeping riders dry in the wet British weather.

In the 1940s Belstaff began producing its famous Trialmaster jacket, favored by British Grand Prix racers and, according to the company's history, Che Guevara, who wore a Trialmaster during his motorcycle ride across Latin America.

In 2004 Belstaff was taken over by the Clothing Company, and the Trialmaster was a casualty of the transition and the times, replaced by jackets with high tech construction and more modern fabrics. While Belstaff continues to make riding gear, its focus is more on fashion and film, outfitting Leonardo DiCaprio in "Aviator" and Will Smith in "I Am Legend," along with Tom Cruise in "MI-III." But the old Trialmaster isn't going down without a fight.

Given the style's illustrious history, it's no surprise the jackets are now fetching top dollar; it's not unusual to see jackets in mint condition go for up to $1,000, and the new owners are gushing. Of course, when you've plunked down a couple of weeks' wages for a used jacket are you really going to admit you're less than thrilled with the object of your desire?

Because the truth is, the Trialmaster is a fickle friend. Useful in temperatures between 60 and 65 degrees, mine gets worn less than a Halloween costume. One degree too cool and the jacket's plaid lining feels inadequate; one degree too warm and the waxed cotton feels like a sauna. Ventilation -- two tiny brass grommets with air holes under each armpit -- is nearly nonexistent. And don't even get me started on waxed cotton in a house with cats.

Unlike my husband, who has more accessories than Barbie (seriously, the man should come with his own G.I. Joe footlocker), I own a minimum of riding gear, and I expect my kit to function in all manner of riding conditions. So why do I hang on to a jacket with a shorter season than a jack-o-lantern?

I guess because when the temperature is exactly right the jacket feels, well, just right. It stops the wind, and even does a very admirable job of keeping out the occasional showers that are an inevitable part of fall riding.

The stiff stand-up collar, lined in corduroy, tucks up under the back of my helmet and keeps the dreaded dribble of rain from finding its way down my back, a feat my purpose-made rain jacket has never accomplished. And the pockets -- four huge patch pockets -- allow me to leave the saddlebags, and even the tank bag at home.

I know it's not very versatile, but at least I didn't spend two weeks' wages on my Trialmaster. I enjoy our brief time together, and maybe this year I'll go as Che Guevara for Halloween.

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