On the drift

They never mention it in books, of course. The travel guides, I mean. They never tell you just how far you can, on average, walk in a pair of shoes before they start to fall apart. Of course, not all shoes are built the same and there’s going to be some variability in how well they will wear, but I’ve found you can maybe walk five hundred miles on fairly even asphalt in a pair of sneakers before you might want to keep your eyes open for your next pair. Boots meant for hiking? Maybe twice that, but you had better not rely on there being any tread to give you traction that last two hundred miles, give or take. Still, boots are my go-to, though they tend to weigh you down more at the end of the day than something more athletic.

Of course, you’re rarely given the choice of boots or sneakers while on the drift. More often than not, you have to accept what you come across and, obviously, the mileage on a worn pair of footwear is significantly lowered.

But beggars can’t be choosers, as my gran would say.

To be fair, the reason they probably don’t mention a detail like that is that there ain’t a travel guide that I have ever seen that covers the territories ‘tween places. But when you’re stuck out there in the ‘twixts, it would sure be nice to have a little pocket guide to reference when you’re feeling lost or just plain low. Being on the drift can bring you down, if you let it, and it would sure be nice if you could whip out a handy-dandy book with an inspirational quote on the cover and sage advice between. Kind of like that book I once saw that claimed to tell you about how to take a shit out in the wilderness. That would have come in handy early on the drift.

Yeah, maybe I’ll write something like that if I ever manage to stop being on the drift. Betcha someone could use something like that here.

But first, I have to find the exit door. So far? I haven’t had much in the way of luck in that department.