12 May 1999
The Unknown


William: In order to test the practical durability of the shoes at both ends of the cool Chicago shoes spectrum, I put on my Doc Martens, and Scott laced up his Converse, and together we attempted the hike up Wilson Road and made the trek from West Castleton down to the general store at Hydeville, Vermont. Probably five miles each way, on paved roads, gravel roads, foottrails, and through the woods.

Scott started experiencing discomfort first. We passed a guy on the road who made conversation. He said that we had 4 miles to go and that coming back would be immeasurably worse, given the incline, the wind, and the declining position of the sun. It was real hard for him, onaccounta his ticker and all. He'd just had a triple bypass. But he loved walking. He had a great old walking stick and a Yankee accent. He breathed deeply, sincerely, through his nose.

Scott: I find that the old Chuck Taylors will take you to the El Stop and back quite comfortably. But they do fail the old Green Mountain State slate road over mountains by the shores of Lake Bomoseen acid test. As it were. Normally they serve fine for city walking. They're dirt cheap and they're kind of hip. But they don't have much in the way of an inner sole and my damn feet are sore. If the Canadians invaded and all the footwear folks had up here were Chucks, we'd be plain fucked. But I gotta admit I feel pretty macho, William. My blisters are greater in size and number than your barely sore feet can muster.

William: Yeah. I only got one maybe two blisters in my Docs. And, right now, splattered in mud, they look pretty damn cool. I could quite hiply visit the Neofuturarium or take in a show at the Curious Theater in my muddy, scarred Docs. Whearas, looks like you need a new pair, buddy.

Well, next issue, Scott and I are going to do a Champaign-Urbana shoe review, and try to hike the Appalachian trail in Birkenstocks.


Newspoetry at Spineless Books