During my most recent trip to the Pacific Northwest I spent some time in Fred Meyer, because that's what PNW ex-pats do. Where else can you buy a loaf of fresh baked bread, a pair of jeans and parts to fix your toilet at 10:00 pm on any given night of the week. Freddy's is just that kind of store.
As I browsed the aisles I came upon the shoe department, and there they were: the plain black shoes I wore for years while living in the PWN. Not stylish, not fashionable and certainly not trendy, there were workhorse shoes that lasted a long time and took the abuse of walking indoors and out, in good weather and bad, all while still looking like they did when they came out of the box.
My best friend in Medford called them bus driver shoes, as they were what the school bus driver wore when we were kids. She wore them as well, another aspect of our shared history, sense of humor and fashion sense.
I picked up a box of the appropriate sized shoes and sat down to try them on. The fit like a glove, and I let out a small exclaim of happiness, finding a long lost friend and ensuring I would not need to shop elsewhere for shoes that might be trendy or fashionable. After all, us bus driver shoe wearers need to stick together.
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