Man’s Best Boot: A Love Story

I was 32 when I first met them, fresh out of the box, smelling like leather and promise.

They weren’t just boots. No, sir. They were companions, partners in crime, the most loyal thing I’ve ever owned.

Fourteen years later, they’ve been through more than most marriages. They’ve trudged through mud, held firm against storms, and kept my feet safe from everything the world throws at a man who works the land.

They don’t complain, don’t judge, don’t ask for anything, except maybe a little mink oil and the respect they damn well deserve.

Some folks have dogs. I have these boots. They wait by the door every morning, ready to go. They recognize my step like an old hound.

When I slip them on, it’s like a handshake between old friends, silent, firm, full of understanding.

Of course, years of hard work take a toll. There were moments (dark moments) when I thought I might lose them.

The soles wore thin, the stitches frayed. But I wasn’t about to give up on them. Not without a fight…

So I took them to Doc Tanner. Not an actual doctor, but in the world of boots, he might as well be. The man’s been stitching leather longer than I’ve been walking on it.

First time I walked into his shop, he examined my boots like a seasoned vet checking an old hunting dog. “We can fix this,” he said, with the quiet confidence of a man who’s seen it all.

And he did. A few fresh soles, some expert stitching, and they were back on their feet, literally. It wasn’t their first visit to Doc Tanner, and it won’t be their last. But I trust him to keep them going as long as possible.

I know one day, I’ll have to say goodbye. The soles are thinning again, the leather is cracking, but damn it, I’ll hold on as long as I can.

When that day comes, I’ll retire them properly, no trash bin for these boots. No, sir. They’ll get a spot of honor in the workshop, right next to my granddad’s old toolbox.

Some men pass down heirlooms. I’ll pass down wisdom: Take care of your boots, and they’ll take care of you.

Signed,

Buck Soleman