My fathers boots.

[velophile]

The thing about my father is that he is an old salt. He's been riding motorcycles since he was a kid. He's put more miles on motorcycles than I have in cars, on bikes and in airplanes combined. He'll ride in any conditions, he scoffs at rain and wind. Though he'll gladly share his least favorite condition is wet fall leaves. He'll also share stories of other hardy riders he'll see in November or February. In November, every motorcyclist waves. His motorcycle does get a rest during the winter but he's always last one away, first one out.

My Parents recently got divorced. I was helping my mother clean out their house so she can put it on the market, when I came across a pair of his riding boots. My father never skimped on boots, he always thought that feet were life. These were a good solid pair of boots but they'd decidedly seen better days. They were caked with grime and grit. When I flipped them over I was shocked. I'd never seen a pair of soles worn so thoroughly. Except for a nip of tread at the tip and tail the sole on both boots were completely worn. The bottom piece of the right heal had broken free and was about to fall off. Between the two boots, the soles had a dozen metal slivers and shavings picked up along the way and now embedded far past the point of ever being removed. A striking testimony as to part of the reason why motorcyclists wear boots. Despite all that I was surprised he left these boots, the leather was still good and toes still solid. In the evening I went about polishing up the boots. It was a lot of work, but before long I had them looking pretty good. This was no army polish, these boots had too many hard miles on them to ever reflect again. They did take on a textured sheen though. I glued the heal back in place and decided to give these boots a ride and see if they had any miles left in them.

It was almost 1am by the time I was dressed and rolled out. It wasn't long before I figured out why my father abandoned these boots. They were worn so thin that I could feel the texture of the road through the right boot sole. Despite that, I decided to continue on for a while. Cutting through the inky blackness of desolate areas on a motorcycle at night, alone, is a scary endeavor. Every waving pine branch needs analyzed to affirm that it's not a deer crossing in front. The amount of available light thrown off by a motorcycle versus the rate of closure just never seems quite in your favor. Each reflector on a mailbox, as it comes into view, requires attention to determine its movement pattern to confirm that it is just that, and not a car backing out or a bicycle with no lights or a million other possible threats. Even with high beams, corners cant quite be predicted until you're fully committed. You are aware of things that would go completely without notice in a car. The maladjusted street light that points just a bit too much towards you. You notice right away how the furthest 5 feet of you vision is lost due to the glare. Dead critters already crushed flat present an actual hazard and not just a minor annoyance as they zip into view and are by you in a fraction of a second. On coming traffic presents a new threat as well, as you endlessly click between high and low beams trying to reach a bit further out into the endless abyss, but not wanting to blind or target fixate the opposing driver. There are times though when penetrating the darkness is sublime. When only you exist and you can consider your own path in life. Where you dream of friends and loved ones lost but not forgotten. Eventually, the cold night air takes its tool and forces you back to shelter.

It was a humbling experience. To compare the soles of my boots to his and know my father left behind boots I'd cherish. Cherish for the testimony they provide of my experience and accomplishment. Not only had he worn this pair that far, but he'd worn enough others to the same extent that these held no particular meaning to him. Comparing my riding boots, the only pair I've ever owned, tread barely worn and the leather still polishing to a near mirror finish versus one pair of many my father has owned. Worn so thin that the textures of the road could actually be felt through them. Discarded only when the risk of the next metal shaving penetrating into the foot outweighed the cost of a new pair. Those boots have seen many more miles of road disappear beneath them than my motorcycle has and they are only one pair of many my father has owned throughout his motorcycling career. We'd all be lucky to last so long

In one of the recent crash threads there was an argument about how you measure experience as a rider. This is how I measure it.

[RayOSV]

Great post. You know you probably can get those boots re-soled for a lot less $$ than a new pair. A good shoe repair shop (cobbler) could do it.

As your sight distance decreases, you speed should as well.

[jk750]

Great read.

Like playing Rochmaninov to a hip hop crowd.

[JavaMoose]

Excellent post...I hope you share it with your Dad come Father's Day.

Little polish, picture of the boots, and I could see that getting published in a biker magazine. You should send it in.

[Omahastylin16]

this was an excellent read and is a beautiful story. im with java, send that in to a bike magazine

[MJ939]

Great read, thanks for writing it up and sharing it. It's a needed relief after all of the grammar-butchering we see here on a daily basis.

[BrotherGrim]

Your prose reads like poetry. Excellent story.

[SlayingElliott]

You should be a writer if you're not one already.

[Darksheer]

...well written...I agree with the others, definitley publishable...send it in to "Cycle World" or "Motorcyclist"...I'd hesitate to send it to "Sport rider" or "2Wheel Tuner"...

[ApriliaSL]

Originally Posted by Omahastylin16

. im with java, send that in to a bike magazine

Yes do. Such nice words on a pair of stinky nasty boots.

[Str8away Hater]

Excellent post! I thoroughly enjoyed reading it. Sometimes it is the little nuances that mean the most about a person. I hope my boots get worn enough to say the same very thing one day...

[bendosia]

That was really well written. At first I thought I was reading something you copied off a magazine article.

One question though, where would the metal shavings be coming from? I haven't seen those on my boots...granted I haven't been riding as much as your dad.

[willvt13]

Excellent post, well written in both style and topic. Like Java said, you should share it with your dad on fathers day, I think he'd appreciate it.

[MrR2009]

It was a really good read, but for some constructive criticism. that third paragraph doesn't really fit well with the story. You go from talking about the boots, to night riding, back to the boots. But the writing in the story was wonderful it flowed so beautifully, I could imagine riding at our lake late at night. Great read, if only high school didn't make it so I analyzed everything I read.

[Ca$h]

Best post I have read here in a long time.
To you, and your father.