A shoe so fast, it caught fire

Question: How fast can you catch a running shoe on fire while making coffee?

Answer: Faster than you think.

All it takes is one small, careless step after the other — until the coffee is done or the fire is out.

Here’s how I made it to this fiery finish line.

Our Sanders Beach area home was without power for three days after the windstorm. Because my existence depends on morning coffee, I retrieved my old (I’m talking a few decades) two-burner propane burner and fold-out table from our ancient camping supplies.

It’s missing the knobs and a few pieces that help it sit straight and sturdy, but I generally compensate by using small and large rocks to keep the burner and propane tank steady.

I had used it the previous day outside on our back deck and after tightening nuts and fittings all was fine.

I thought.

This time, I grabbed a coffee cup to hold the propane tank from leaning too much. It had rained, so the burner was harder to light. I could smell the propane, so I turned it off and checked things. I decided the coffee cup was not a good stand, so I looked around.

There, outside the back door, were my new, Christmas gift running shoes, Hokas, purchased at Tri-State Outfitters. Beautiful. Light. Cushioned. I had maybe 50 miles on them. They were only there because, during the windstorm, our fence was in danger of going down so I went to help my neighbor secure it. In doing so, I stepped in dog poop that was left, I’m sure by my son’s dogs we’ve been looking after.

The shoes came off at the back door.

So I picked one up and wedged it under the propane tank. I turned on the gas, lit it, and watched. The burner was fine. Coffee should be percolating soon.

About then, I heard the dogs barking downstairs and ran to check on them. I was gone for maybe a minute and dashed back upstairs. I glanced through the glass-paned back door. Something caught my eye. Flames. I mean, big, bright, orange flames. My new shoe was on fire. Not some thrift store shoe which is mostly what I own. My perfect, wonderful Hoka was ablaze.

Call the fire department.

I ran outside, grabbed the shoe, and flung it high toward the middle of the yard. The last I saw, it was a flaming ball of fire, hurtling through the air.

I fumbled to turn off the gas, using pliers since the knobs were gone. The flames had spread across the burner. I don’t know if they were close to igniting the propane tank. I don’t know what would have happened if they did. Not good, certainly. Imagine the headline. “Runner torches shoes, self.”

I looked over the balcony expecting to see my shoe smoldering on the ground. Not yet. Still on fire. Holy smokes. I looked around and grabbed my wife’s bottle of tonic water and charged down the stairs and into the yard.

I had to be quick. I could still save the shoe. I could run in them again. All was not lost.

I raced up and dumped the water on it. The fire went out. Smoke drifted from the blackened insole of the shoe.

I picked it up. My heart sank. It could not be salvaged. Not even the fix-everything duct tape would help. They could not be resurrected.

Sadly, I knew I would not be running in my prized Challenger ATR 5s again.

And it was all my fault.

But wait.

Was it really my fault?

If not for my son’s dogs in my backyard, I wouldn’t have stepped in poop. My shoes wouldn’t have ever been on the back deck. I would have never placed a Hoka under a propane tank. It would never have caught fire.

I would have enjoyed a cup of coffee.

Just as I thought. Why didn't I see this before?

It’s Ray's fault.

And he owes me a new pair of Hokas.

•••

Bill Buley is assistant managing editor of The Press. He can be reached at bbuley@cdapress.com or (208) 416-5110.