One Sport Boots, 1994-2009The New York winter finally did in my oldest pair of shoes. These beautiful boots carried me through Arapahoe National Forest, to the top of Telluride Mountain, to the bottom and back out of the Grand Canyon, over the hump of Half Dome and god-knows-where in the backwoods beyond Ojai. But after six winters in New York, on Broadway in Williamsburg, under the JMZ train, the left one said: No more. I can't go on.
I can't say I blame it. The roller coaster of wind, salt, radiators, subway steps, ice and snow ain't easy. NYC is for many kinds of people (and accessories), but the faint of heart are not included.
I love you, boots. I'm not mad at you. Thanks for taking me so far.
I can't say I blame it. The roller coaster of wind, salt, radiators, subway steps, ice and snow ain't easy. NYC is for many kinds of people (and accessories), but the faint of heart are not included.
I love you, boots. I'm not mad at you. Thanks for taking me so far.
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