We lost a good pair of socks today. Mid-high, grey and black, made by Sock Guy for Rocket Parts. I’m not one for marking down the purchase date of socks, but I’m thinking 1997.
Despite turning at the hems a little a couple of years back, the Rockets kept rocking. There’s a teeny tiny bit of pilling on the soles, but it affected them not a jot. But the gaping hole on the ankle, just above the shoe line, has, at long last, done them in.
They’ve done their job. They’ve starred in numerous photo shoots, raced any number of races, explored any number of trails. They’ve been muddy, and they’ve been bloody. And they’ve been washed at least 800 times.
Oh sure, I’ve fallen hard for the high black sock fad. And that’s pushed the Rockets (and my Trek/VWs and my Yahoo/Ritcheys) to the back of the sock drawer over the last couple of years.
But what I loved about the Rockets was the fact I could still wear them under jeans or a suit, and no one was the wiser that I was a mountain biker.
Like Superman’s tights or… well, a pair of mountain bike socks, it allowed my a daily connection to a world I much prefer over the neccesary but occasionally mundane moments in my day-to-day.
I’ll miss you, Rocket socks. Thanks for the memories.
The Ol' Crank 