Bike Cop Boot Advising Again

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At the invitation of a county sheriff with whom I spoke at a recent conference I attended for my work, I was invited to meeting in a nearby state where discussions were held regarding new uniforms for a law enforcement force that will emerge from when the city and the county merge into a unified government. This will likely happen when approval is granted by the voters in November.

There is a lot to do in order to combine the city police department and the county sheriff’s office. Least of which is specifying a new uniform. They decided to go with totally different uniform colors and do away with the “old” uniforms in the “old” colors. The new uniform will be dark blue with yellow side stripes on the legs.

While they were at it, the motor units from both forces were considering specifics regarding the boots they will wear. Right now, the sheriff’s department wears only Dehners. The city’s police force wear any boot that is tall and black. A few have Dehners, some have Dehner look-alikes, and a few wear Chippewa Hi-Shine Engineer Boots.

I blogged about bike cop boot advising before, and the same types of questions and discussions arose.

What was interesting, though these men wouldn’t really admit it, is that they were more concerned about appearance than they were about cost or comfort. While it is likely they would get a generous uniform allowance the first year the forces combine, it is not likely the uniform allowance would remain nearly as high in future years. That means, then, that Dehner boots would be difficult to “require” because their cost is so excessive, especially for stock boots whose shafts are made of that plastic stuff called “Dehcord” that cracks, breaks, and wears poorly.

They were also looking at Intapol boots, and liked them. The style, zipper on the back of the shaft, and availability of different calf widths were selling points. However, they didn’t like the new soles on the Intapol boots, which are supposed to be a lug-style, but are more like a soft type of rubber.

We were supposed to look at the uniforms and boots yesterday, then the cops were going to set up a training course today and ride with various styles of boots on. However, due to predicted rain for today, they switched which day they did each task. Yesterday, the cops just put on various makes of boots and rode through a course of twists, turns, and stops on their police Harleys. They even let me try the course on my H-D Road King, while I was wearing my Chippewa Hi-Shine boots. I was successful, about which I was proud because this is the first time I have ridden the bike through such challenges since I bought my new bike at the end of May.

Anyway, they rode and rode and rode with Dehners, Intapols, and Chippewas — both the motor patrol style as well as the Engineer style. All the boots performed well, as reported verbally. The written reports gave preference to the Chippewa Hi-Shines for comfort, and to the Dehners for appearance. The Intapols were in between. Several cops noticed black marks on the pipes of their bikes left by the soft rubber sole on the new Intapol boots. Those who wore the Chippewa Motor Patrol boots said that the boots were hot and caused them to feel uncomfortable. (It was a very warm afternoon out there in the sun.)

This morning when they were modeling the uniforms with the boots, the stress cracks on the Dehners were very obvious. That caused some of the old-timers who wouldn’t consider any other type of boot to look again at alternatives. Since they didn’t like the sole of the Intapols, and those who wore the Chippewa Motor Patrol boots said that they didn’t like them because they got so hot, they looked again at the Chippewa Hi-Shines.

I talked about mine, why I like them, how comfortable they are to me, and demonstrated that the pair I had on were severals years old and have endured thousands of miles on my Harley. I also discussed what I had learned when working with a different motor outfit in May.

Now they want to talk among themselves and think. Several of the cops will wear their demo boots between now and September, when they will make a decision. A few of the cops are still hesitant about adopting Chippewa Hi-Shine boots because they have muscular legs and wanted to be able to get wider calf sizes, but unless you get a wide foot, you can’t get boots with a wide calf. Intapol offers different calf widths. Dehners can be made custom. They’re not sure just what they will select. But they don’t have to decide right away.

It was a great couple of days, and I appreciated having the opportunity to do this as part of my “real” job as well as continuing my personal avocation. And, as a double-blessing, I was able to avoid the rain for my long motorcycle ride home by routing myself differently from how I got there. I am glad I didn’t have to ride in the rain.

Stupid Is is What Stupid Does

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A guy who regularly posts on “Boots on Line” posted this picture with the subject, “Awesome bike — cool dude.” The writer initially posted the pic saying that the rider of this motorcycle was very proud of his machine, a 2000 Millennium Indian, and talked to the writer at every stoplight about his pride in his ride.

What’s wrong with this picture? Well, besides the obvious (no helmet, wearing shorts, and some sort of soft footwear), he’s holding to the handlebar with ONE HAND! How incredibly stupid, on all accounts.

Several people wrote a reply commenting on the lack of protective gear, and I’ll add my voice to that. They referred to him as a “donor”. Meaning that when he is involved in a crash (usually caused by someone claiming not to see a motorcycle and turning in front of him), he likely will suffer a traumatic brain injury. If the rest of his internal organs are not spread to smithereens all over the road from the crash, then the organs may be eligible to be used as donor organs for people on transplant lists. (I am just very glad that they don’t transplant brains yet).

I am an organ donor. I know what that process involves, the emotions, and the long-term impact on the families of donors and recipients of organs. However, to avoid repetition of that story, just read my May 3 “Happy Kidney Day” post here.

What further adds to the misery of this story is that the writer said this picture was taken in Florida. It’s sad but true — Florida has more elderly drivers than any other state. NHTSA studies have indicated that older drivers have slower response than younger drivers, and we all know that milliseconds in decision-making count when determining how to avoid a crash. Motorcycle Safety Foundation studies have corroborated that when older drivers are involved in a crash with a motorcycle, the majority said to first responders, “I didn’t see him.” Their peripheral vision and visual acuity is just not as sharp. So riding without a helmet, in shorts, sneakers, and with one hand, IN FLORIDA, is particularly dumb.

Having served as a rescue technician for several years in my home county in Maryland, I got really sick of scraping guys like this up off the road. It was so very sad, and so preventable. What the writer also failed to recognize is that the cost of caring for someone who incurs a head injury from a motorcycle crash adds significantly to the cost of health insurance premiums as well as taxes we all have to pay that go to health care provided by public hospitals (if the guy were not insured.) If the guy isn’t killed in the crash, his health care treatment and recovery costs will be in the hundreds of thousands of dollars. And that doesn’t begin to measure the emotional cost on him, his family, and those who will become long-term caregivers.

I don’t give a hoot about whether the law says a DOT-approved helmet is or is not required. Getting in gear is just common sense. This guy ain’t got any. Period. End of story.

Finally Figured Out Chippewa Hi-Shines

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One would think that a Bootman like me ought to know these things, but I have to come clean — I learn a lot from experience.

This morning as usual, I was using my website to determine what boots I wanted to wear today. (I often use my website to facilitate my boot choices.) I will be on my Harley as usual to get to the Metro, then at work in some meetings. After work when I get back to where I parked my bike, I will be riding again to attend another meeting at our local police district station. This is a regularly-scheduled meeting in which I am involved as a civic leader.

So, bike cop boots were on my mind. So was the weather: very hot and very humid again. (It was 80°F [27°C] at 5:00 this morning, and predicted to reach 95°F [36°C] again today). I wanted to wear good-looking boots that would work for all these activities: riding my Harley, meetings at work in a professional environment, and then meeting with the cops in my district at home.

Chippewa Hi-Shine Boots were the answer. An easy choice. But as I was looking in my boot closet, I pulled out both pairs that I have: my older pair that I got in the mid-90s, and the pair I got for my partner in 2005 and to which I had lug sole plates added a month ago. The older pair still look nice, so I decided to put them on.

Why were they feeling so tight on my legs? Why did my feet seem to swim in a cavern in the foot of the boot, but the shafts were literally sticking to my legs? Since my legs were already sweaty, I had to use a bootjack to yank the boots off my legs. I looked at those boots very closely.

They are standard size 10D. That’s what I usually wear. I looked at my partner’s boots (now mine) and they are size 8.5EE. I pulled them on. They felt GREAT! I had more room in the calf, so they weren’t sticking to my legs or feeling tight, and my foot felt comfortable — not too tight, not too lose.

So, I finally figured it out without really thinking about it. Chippewa Engineer Boots run large. But for those of us with a muscular calf, we need the size in the shaft, not in the foot. So a wide boot provides a wider shaft. Duhh… it figures.

I wonder who else figured this out, and why I am so dense as to figure it out only now. I’ll have to discuss it with my friend Mike after he recovers from the “Up Your Alley” (Dore Alley) fair this coming weekend in San Francisco.

Life is short: wear boots!

How Can I Help You?

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The simple thought or question, “how can I help you?” … seems to have been replaced by the question, “what will you do for me?” Man, that just drives me nuts. The Starbucks-swilling Beemer-driving yuppies were all over the grocery store and parking lot today where I regularly take some elderly friends shopping.

They stand in the middle of the aisle, as if they are the only ones there. They get angry if you are in their way but don’t give a hoot if they block you. They stand there swilling their coffee and yapping on their cell phones expecting to have privacy, and give a dirty look if you say, “pardon me, but the apples that my friend wants are behind you, will you kindly move?”

They leave the store and walk the shopping cart out to their SUV, which they parked as close as they could to the store, even if it meant circling the lot a dozen times instead of just parking a little further away in a clear space. After unloading their groceries into their car, they just put the cart wherever… they wouldn’t think of bringing back to the store. Nooo… it’s all about them, their needs, what’s best for them.

I tell ‘ya, nuts this behavior drives me. But I remember what I was taught by my parents and from my faith, to love, to live, and ask, “how can I help you?” Seriously, this world would be far better if more people just took a sec to think about someone else other than themselves.

Pardon the rant, but today’s fiasco at the grocery store just sent me over the edge. If I hadn’t pulled a child out of the way, a Beemer-driving, cell-phone yapping yuppie would have creamed her. The driver didn’t even look, stop, or give a damn. I pray for his soul.

Get Lost!

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“Let’s Get Lost!” — my plan on how to spend Thursday with my twin brother.

He is home briefly from Europe to attend some meetings in Washington, DC. He took a few extra days to show his wife around his former stomping grounds, and planned some time to spend with me. His wife and my sister went shopping on Thursday, while my brother and I became “biker dudes.” Man, I love that big lug of a guy — he is my soulmate and even though he is four minutes younger than I am, he is my “big bro” (because he is six inches taller!)

He rented a Harley — just like my Road King, but black — and we went for a nice long ride yesterday, to nowhere. We would come to an intersection and play “rock-paper-scissors”. The winner of the game picked the direction for the next turn. We found some roads that I didn’t know existed, found a farm of llamas and rabbits, and enjoyed lunch at a roadside café that I had not seen before, right here in my home State of Maryland. We found some covered bridges (and some “uncovered” ones as well) and didn’t travel a mile on an interstate highway. I died laughing when a woodchuck ran across the road in front of my brother and he slowed and swerved to miss it, only to see the woodchuck stand on its legs and shake a fist at him! I swear it did!

I wore my Chippewa Firefighter Boots… okay (AZ), I admit it, I really DO have “favorite” boots that I wear more often than others, especially for riding my Harley on a hot day. These boots are super-dooper comfortable and don’t get hot, even though they are leather-lined. I got my brother into a similar-looking pair of boots, my Milwaukee Motor Clothing Trooper Boots, which he said were comfortable, even though he seldom, if ever, wears boots. But he did for me (even though I refused to wear plastic rental shoes when I was his best man at his wedding last year).

While it was a hot and humid day, reaching the peak of 97°F (36°C), nothing could be more enjoyable than tooling around 178 miles with my life-long best friend. Man, what a great day.

When we got home, we laughed and retold our stories, which of course became more like tall tales by the time we made them up (I mean, relayed them again). My partner smiled, laughed, and was heartened to enjoy happiness with us as I grilled a steak dinner with all the trimmings to enjoy eating on our deck.

Live and love life! Wear your boots! Love those you love hard, each and every day, and show them how much you love ’em. Life is short. Keep love and a smile handy, and all else will be grand.

Homecoming in Boots, Horseless

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Traveling by air these days just isn’t fun like it used to be. The inability to get a decent seat on an airplane without paying niddling “upgrade” fees begins the process, followed by overzealous young wannabe cops at security stations.

I have traveled over 1,600,000 actual air miles in the past 30 years. The vast majority of that travel was for a former job, where I was on the road about 280 days/year. I got to see a lot of interesting things and meet great people, and do a lot that others thought was helpful. I spoke at hundreds of conferences and attended thousands of meetings. I visited every state and territory of the U.S. dozens of times, as well as 56 foreign countries. (I don’t consider Canada “foreign” and have been blessed to have been to every province and territory of that lovely land dozens of times, and having been made an honorary citizen years ago.)

Being away from home, with two days here and three days there, often going from point-to-point, was very exhausting. It wasn’t unusual to awaken in a strange hotel room and wonder where I was, what time zone I was in, and what day of the week it was. I took to making a simple sign that I left on the nightstand with that information, “you are in ___ and today is ___ in the ___ time zone.”

I changed jobs and do not travel as much. That’s good. I’m sick of it. Yesterday on my way home from a conference in Kansas City (MO), the kid at the security station squinted at my passport and asked if I had a driver’s license instead (?? what ?? I guess he had never seen a passport before at this supposed “international” airport). Then another security kid demanded to inspect my carry-on bag to remove a can of Coca-Cola. OMG, yeah, right, I’m gonna terrorize the pilot by shaking up the can and opening it to spray it on him, or something. I know this kid was following orders, but the orders are just absolutely silly. Just goes with these days in America where everyone assumes an insultingly greater authority and looks over his shoulder for terrorists. (Like the little old lady in the wheelchair who was patted down behind me. Oh, gimme a break!)

Oh well, I tried to have some fun by wearing my Olathe Buckaroo Boots with jeans tucked in at the airport. Actually, I wore my black Dan Post Ostrich leg cowboy boots through security, because they are easier to take off, so as not to delay a line. (This airport is so dinky, it has only one magnetometer to enter the gate area. I’ve always laughed at little airports like this that call themselves “such-and-such International”.)

I gave my fellow travelers a little show by pulling out my Olathe’s from a sack (what they call a bag in that part of the country), putting my Dan Post boots into it, then rolling my sock over the bottom of my jeans and pulling on those beautiful tall Buckaroos. Left foot first, of course!

One old lady and one young woman in KC said, “nice boots.” The pilot of the plane also complimented them. When I had to change planes in Charlotte, some nitwit at my arrival gate said as I got off the plane, “where’s your horse?” I ignored that one, but then someone else said the same thing just a few minutes later. This time I said, “he got stuck in the back of the plane and will be out in a few minutes.”

I stopped for lunch in mid-concourse, and sat in a big white rocking chair while eating and watching people during my two-hour layover. About a dozen people said, “nice boots” and a few more were asking where my horse was. To those people, I said, “he’s getting a bite to eat over there,” and pointed. Derned enough if each and every one of those fools looked where I pointed. Ha ha.

Finally arriving at my home airport of BWI, I was met by my cousin who works there. We retrieved my bag, and he took me to the private pilot’s parking area, where I can park for free. My cousin saw the boots and smiled. He said, “I see you’ve been doing some shopping!” He knows me well.

I stopped by the grocery store on the way home to get myself some milk (my partner always forgets that I crave milk when I get home) and some stuff for a couple elderly friends of mine. I dropped off their groceries and they also complimented the boots. Neither asked me about a horse.

Finally arriving at home, I discovered much to my chagrin that my partner had waxed our hardwood floors. Carrying my one piece of luggage through the foyer almost landed me on my butt due to the combination of being off balance, wearing boots that are not quite broken in and still have very smooth leather soles, and the slippery freshly-waxed floor. I put the luggage down and tiptoed into the dining room to take off the boots and my socks (which would have been just as slippery). I then made my way upstairs to unpack and load up the clothes washer.

Well, I guess the horse found better pasture, because he didn’t follow me home. Perhaps one of the fools in Charlotte found him and led him away.

I sure am glad to be HOME! I enjoyed cooking a home-cooked meal for my partner and recanting the journey with him, then snuggling later without any TV, computer, or phone. We turned all that off and turned our attention to each other. He sure made me feel welcome, at home, safe and sound. And that’s how it should be. (Plus, I never could have trained a horse to scratch my itches the way my partner does.)

Boots & Leather Website Milestone

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I was doing a routine scan of my website to check for broken links. The software provides a report on the number of images, links, and other things when it is through running. I noticed that my website reached a milestone when I ran that scan: the software reported that I now have 5,008 images on it! Wow! Who woulda thunk?

But then again, I guess having 132 pairs of cowboy boots and motorcycle boots as well as a large assortment of leather gear and cataloging them on my website, www.bootedman.com since March, 2005 — more than three years now — has resulted in lots of photos of my boots and gear. And that’s not to mention all of the photo galleries of cop boots which attract the largest number of visitors about one subject than any others. The photos from the DC-based “hotboots” parties of past years also bring a number of visitors, but since those event gallieries are old and the parties are not being held at least for the summer (and I don’t go any more), there’s nothing new to add. I will, however, continue to build the cop boot galleries when I attend events, as well as any other event where boots are predominant on men’s feet that I may attend (which is seldom).

It has been really fun to learn HTML and website construction, which is self-taught. My website is still rather simple and static, but performs quickly and does what I set it out to do: catalog my boots and gear so I know what I have, and share my avocation with those who are interested.

Life is short! Wear your boots! (and leather)

Olathe Buckaroo Booted!

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Greetings from Kansas City, Missouri, the heartland of the USA. I’m here for a conference. It’s going well, and fairly busy. However, I got a respite yesterday afternoon when a buddy and his boyfriend took me to Higginsville, Missouri, about 50 miles East of Kansas City, to do some boot shopping at Kleinschmidt’s Western Wear.

This store claims to have over 19,000 pairs of boots for sale. It was a Bootman’s dream to walk through all the rows and rows of boots. While most of the boots were commonly available via other sources and were from major manufacturers, this store had a good selection of Buckaroo boots, and from a famous bootmaker, Olathe Boots. (By the way, it was made clear to me how to pronounce “Olathe”, which is “oh-lāy-tha”).

These boots were once made in Olathe, Kansas, but were bought by Rios of Mercedes, a bootmaker located in Mercedes, Texas, just 8 miles north of the U.S.-Mexico border. The new Olathe boots seem to have very good quality, so I’m happy with them.

This is what I wrote for tutorial about this type of cowboy boot:

Buckaroo Boots get their name from the men who wore them, the California vaquero, a type of Spanish or Mexican cowboy who worked with young, untrained horses. The California vaquero or buckaroo, unlike the Texas cowboy, was considered a highly-skilled worker, who usually stayed on the same ranch where he was born or had grown up and raised his own family there. Cowboys of this tradition were dubbed buckaroos by English-speaking settlers. The term buckaroo officially appeared in American English in 1889.

The Buckaroo’s Boots are tall, ranging from 15″ to 20″ or up to the knee. They are usually two-tone, and many have multi-colored stitching on the foot and shaft. They usually have a deep scallop and pull holes instead of straps.

My new Buckaroo boots definitely fit this description. They are 18″ tall, have pull holes (and false straps), and have blue leather shafts and black leather on the foot. They’re really cool-lookin’. See pics of my new boots here on my website. I had always wanted a pair of Olathe boots since I saw them on cowboys at rodeos I have attended, and demonstrated by the famous DaveM of “Boots on Line” (he wears them so fine!)

I even wore them today at my conference. They are comfortable, but not for all-day wear. What I like most about them besides the appearance is that they fit snugly, but not too tightly, on my legs. I definitely know I have cowboy boots on my feet while wearin’ these boots.

It was great to get away, and to catch up with two really nice guys I have gotten to know through “BOL”. Alas, though, I must return to what brung me here, my conference….

Boots Away!

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I will be blogging less this week as I am at a conference out-of-town and won’t have regular access to the Internet. I will not have much time off, including the weekend. However, two boot buds will be providing some relief while I have a brief break on Saturday afternoon/evening, when we will be going boot shopping, perhaps, and to dinner.

Considering all the hassles of air travel and the nickel-and-diming that the airlines are doing now in charging $1,000 for the weight of a facial tissue, I am only bringing two pairs of boots with me. One pair that I will wear on the plane, my black dress Dan Post Ostrich leg cowboy boots, and one other pair: my brown Nocona Ostrich inlay cowboy boots. Both are very comfortable, which is a requirement since I will be on my feet all day for the next week. I am not bringing any leather. It’s hot, and I have nowhere to wear it. Oh well, I’ll survive.

Be safe!

Renewing Acquaintance with my Past "Frye Bootman"

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Man, it’s a small world. I had blogged just the other day about Frye Boots. I mentioned in that blog post about a cool dude in high school who influenced lots of other guys when he wore a pair of new Frye boots to school one day.

Today, who should I bump into on the Metro but this same guy! He looked great, and was easy to recognize. I had seen him a few times since high school graduation at reunions, but not in the past decade. Nonetheless, there he was. Same great smile, graceful style, and a full head of hair (can’t say the same for myself!)

He glanced down at my feet and said, “I see you’re still wearing boots.” My reply, “yep, every day!” Since I didn’t ride my Harley to Metro today, I was wearing my new Dan Post Vegas Cut black cherry cowboy boots.

I asked him if he still had boots, because I remembered he wore them in high school. (He had on loafers today). He said, “I don’t have any from high school, but I have one pair of cowboy boots.” I didn’t push it. He’s like most other straight guys who don’t ride a motorcycle. These guys may have a pair of cowboy boots in the closet, but seldom wear them.

He asked, “are you still riding a motorcycle?” My reply, “of course! I just got a new Harley Road King. “That’s great,” he said. He asked me about my twin brother, who was a jock in high school. This guy was a jock, too, so they were closer. I told him that my brother works in Europe but was home for a couple weeks. I gave him my email and ask him to contact me, and I would put him in touch with my brother if he wants to see him while he’s in town.

And that was that. A quick handshake with a “good to see ya” and he walked off toward the Capitol building.

I think I’ve seen him in the past few weeks, but wasn’t sure. Seems that he’s commuting now about the same time I do, so perhaps I’ll see him again soon and catch up some more. It was great to see him again, and recall fond memories.