I never liked walking. It’s just not my thing. When visiting the Grand Canyon, I drove as close to the overlook as possible, got out of the car and strolled to the edge to take a look. Then, hopped in the car for a short trip to the next overlook. I never understood the joy in hiking down to the canyon floor, which only makes one thirsty, sweaty and tired. Is it a form of self-abuse? If you’re lucky enough not to cross paths with a snake or scorpion, your feet will surely feel like they’d been snake-bit. That said, I do love shoes. All types, all styles. I’ll buy a pair of hiking boots with absolutely no intention of leaving the city. Motorcycle boots look cool, no bike needed. High-top sneakers are great for casual dining excursions. Wingtips are not made for only CEO’s. My closet holds them in both black and brown. A very useful pair of driving shoes allows me to hop into my Toyota Tercel with ease. And those handmade, snakeskin cowboy boots will never see a horse, but are sure to impress the ladies. The list goes on. My feet are quite wide, and that perfect pair does exist. When I find a comfortable fit, I’m off and running. Actually, I prefer to drive.