Broken In, Busted Out
I bought a new pair of work boots, but I always have a hangup with changing to a new pair. My everyday farm boots are cracked and half separated from the sole. They protect my feet, except in the places where they don’t… You might say they have a patina, but I’m suspicious of anyone who uses that word; such a person usually has some worn-out thing to sell.
There sit the new boots with their crisp laces, sharply etched treads, and rich leather smells. I’m not nostalgic for the old boots, but I always have a moment of regret when I put on a brand new pair, knowing that I’ll get them scuffed, nicked, and generally defiled before the day is out. I’ll watch as welding slag, brake fluid, whey, and super-sticky newborn calf poop each leave their signature. After the first day I won’t notice anything.
Update 21 June 2016:
By popular request, here are the new boots.