So long Doc(s)

I think my Dr. Martens have officially bit the bullet. After the salvage yard excursion last week I came home with the enough sand in my shoes to build an island off the coast of Dubai, and it's not hard to see why:

That dark spot isn't a patch of really nice leather, it's my sock.

The Red Hot Ring of Steel only has one defense against its predator The Boot.

They're about five years old at this point, they were used for over three years working for a ceramics manufacturer, fixing all manner of equipment from kilns to megalithic man-murdering mixers, while building a railing I stepped on a ring just recently trimmed off of a pipe with a torch; I wore these when I was bicycling 20 miles a day to and from that very same job from November to February; I wore them while I was learning to ride a motorcycle, I've worn them while welding, mechanic-ing, gardening, carpenter-ing, standing in the cold for eight hours, and even to the gym. But it's time to retire these titans of footwear and let their descendants shoulder (or foot) the burden now.