The Driving Woman

My Pumas are stopping traffic. Foot traffic, car traffic, even bike traffic at Joy Ride, the fly Manhattan art show inspired by the bicycle, featuring the work of Swoon, Shepherd Fairey and Phil Frost design. Cam-phones are snapping my feet kicking up pavement.

When I saw them in the Manhattan window –I had to have them -- birthday cake blue and high-top fly. But what made me stop dead in my tracks was the subtle stamp of approval on the ankle. The Richard Petty swirl and the Dodge girl seal. Quicker than Jeff Gordon, I was trying them on in the Union Square shop, before I glanced at the price tag.

I’ve been hip to Puma’s motor sports-inspired series – I’ve had my Michael Schumacher Ferrari F-1 kicks for some time. I’m no sneaker expert. There’s too many of you out there keeping up with books like Bobbito’s “Where’d You Get Those” and sites like www.hypebeast.com (Rasheed from Run Athletics hipped me to that hotbed of sneakerdom.) Like my cars, I don’t mind getting my shoes dirty. I’ll leave the waxing to the car wash kings and the fashion to the fashionistas. Nothing like scuff marks and a little grease.