300K

This morning, on the way to work, my little truck rolled over 300,000 miles.

I've passed the 300K milestone in only one other vehicle, our last Suburban, which cratered at 315K. My Nissan pickup, now at 300K, is showing no signs of slowing down yet. Sure, it has signs of its age, as do I, but it and I keep on going in spite of dings, dents, creaks and sags. 

It's a 1995 King Cab with a V-6. Prior to buying this one, I had always wanted a truck just like this one. I don't regret the purchase. The only thing better would have been if I had been able to buy it new. You see, I bought it used, with 94K already on it. It had been wrecked before, but had been repaired and looked and functioned as if it had never been injured.

I bought it from a Jordanian named Sonny in Arlington. He ran a tire shop/used car lot and was training to be a manager of a Chili's restaurant in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. I saw an ad in Truck Trader magazine and called him. Since the photos in Truck Trader were black-and-white, when I called I asked him what color it was. "Maroon," he said, rolling the 'r' with his strong Middle-Eastern accent. I believed it to be a good deal at the time, but never imagined that I'd put another 200K+ on it. Welcome surprises!

When I bought the aforementioned Suburban, it already had 140K on it. I've rolled several other vehicles over 200K, and I look forward to seeing my little Nissan pickup eclipse the Suburban and beat 315K. 

Dwelling in the Land of Pipe Smokers: Part IV

(Fourth and final post in a four-part series on one of my favorite hobbies: pipe smoking.)

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There are many other gadgets and consumables, too, that make the hobby enjoyable for tinkerers like myself. There are lighters. There are tampers. There are pipe cleaners. There are ash trays.

I’ve had lots of lighters, most of them disappointing. Most lighters are cheaply designed and don’t stand up to even light use over time. I’ve yet to find the perfect pipe lighter, but the quest goes on. At the present, the most reliable lighter I’ve ever owned was an inexpensive Imco pipe lighter. I have my sights on an Old Boy, the classic high-end pipe lighter, but haven’t had a disposable Franklin to drop on it yet. There are many knock-offs of the Old Boy. I purchased one, made by Prometheus. It was a purchase filled with regret. After only a month or two, it started leaking butane. The company said they would fix or replace it, but I’d have to pay $50 for the replacement. Lame, considering that it was practically new. I also bought a Zippo Multi-Purpose Lighter, which is a long butane lighter of notable quality that I bought for $10 at Target. That’s probably the best lighter money I’ve spent yet, since it was cheap and is still working.

Tampers are another thing. You have the classic Czech tool, which is perfectly functional but lacks aesthetic charm. My choice is a Brebbia pipe nail, which I’ve owned for a number of years already. I paid about $1 for it. It has a simplistic charm that I find appealing.

Pipe cleaners are not just for kindergarten arts and crafts class. They have a real and practical use, too, thus their name. For my money, there’s no better pipe cleaner than Dill’s. You can find these at some drug stores and an occasional grocery store in the high security cigarette area for $1-2 per package. They are all cotton, very absorbent and just the right size for a normal pipe stem. There is an art to passing a pipe cleaner through a bent pipe, which I’ve mastered for all the bents I own, and the Dill’s cleaner is stiff enough to make the passage without much ado.

My ash tray is a small black skillet that I purchased at Cracker Barrel, about 5” in diameter. I glued a cork knocker in the center and plastic feet on its bottom. It’s great to use because of its size and the handle, making it easy to move here and there when your hand is full of other gadgetry.
One of the things that continues to attract me to pipe smoking is how challenging it is to achieve the perfect smoking experience. Adjusting the variables here and there, packing the bowl just right, knowing when not to oversmoke a bowl, knowing when tobacco is too moist or not moist enough--all of these things contribute to how the tobacco burns and how you should puff. Experiencing the perfect smoke consistently is still just out of reach, but I hit it often enough that I keep trying, trying to pay attention to all the little details that contribute to a more perfect pipe experience. I hope that I never arrive. If I do, the journey will surely be at an end, and as it is, I do love the journey.

(Pictured: Czech tool, Imco pipe lighter, Brebbia pipe nail and the humble cork knocker)

Dwelling in the Land of Pipe Smokers: Part III

(Part Three in a four-part series on one of my favorite hobbies: pipe smoking.)

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As for tobaccos, satisfaction has been more elusive. There are several blends I have grown fond of over the years, yet it is much more difficult for me to find satisfaction in tobaccos than it is for pipes. I'm relatively satisfied with my pipe collection as it is. I add one to it every now and then, often to commemorate a special occasion. My wife bought me a pipe of my choosing for Christmas last year in Grapevine. I just bought my most recent pipe at a fabulous pipe shop in Mill Valley, CA while we were on vacation. If I never bought another pipe, I would be quite happy with what I have. Yet tobacco is a consumable. It disappears over time and has to be replaced.
The plethora of choices of different tobaccos is overwhelming. And considering that you might spend $15-20 for a 50g tin of quality tobacco, you don't necessarily want to be buying something you won't like after one or two bowls. Yet experimentation is the only way to discover a future favorite.
One of the first things you discover is the complexity of pipe tobacco. The first level of appreciation of a tobacco is how it is in the pouch or tin. How it smells, how it looks. Then there’s how it performs in the bowl. How it burns, how it tastes, how it smells as it’s burning. The aroma a tobacco creates as it’s burning is called its “room note”.
 Every fact about pipes, tobacco and pipe smoking has its believers and skeptics. For example, I posted a response to a thread on alt.smokers.pipes about moisturizing bulk tobaccos. I mentioned that I had my bulk tobaccos stored in bail-lid jars, the kind with the rubber gasket to make it air tight. I also mentioned that I keep the tobacco at optimal moisture by putting a slice of apple in the jar with the tobacco. The moisture from the apple moisturizes the tobacco over time, and the apple eventually ends up looking like a leathery piece of mummy skin. Another fellow responded to my post, stating that this would make mold grow on the tobacco. I could have responded with a treatise on the biology of molds and spores and how they are generally unrelated to apple slices. I could have also brought real evidence into play, mentioning that this had been my preferred method of tobacco storage for years and that I had never seen the first sign of mold. Instead, I just let it drop.
Taking this disparity of opinion into account, there are many different "genres" of pipe tobacco, and many differing opinions as to what is good, what is bad, and what is a little of both. Some love English blends--the stronger the Latakia the better. Some exclusively smoke aromatics--the sweeter the blend, the sweeter the smoke. Some would sooner smoke sawdust than the bulk blends from brick-and-mortar tobacco shops. Others swear by these same blends, knowing no other tobacco than that which comes from a big glass jar or a Ziploc baggie.
One of the most peculiar things about pipe smoking is how I, as the smoker, can’t discern the room note whilst I am smoking. I could smell tobaccos that others might be smoking, assuming I wasn’t smoking the same thing, but I couldn’t smell my own tobacco as it burns. Strange. Another peculiarity is how tobaccos taste. They rarely taste like they smell. For me, this is fine. I just have to enjoy the tobacco on two different, unrelated levels.
(Pictured:  My most recent pipe acquisition, a Stanwell Nordic #254; also below, some of the tinned tobaccos I'd recommend--Blue Note, MacBarens' Vanilla Cream, and G. L. Pease's Haddo's Delight and Piccadilly [the only English blend I've ever liked]. My source for most of the tinned tobaccos I've smoked is cupojoes.com. I also bought my Peterson Aran 80S there.)


(To be continued.)

Dwelling in the Land of Pipe Smokers: Part II

(Part Two in a four-part series on one of my favorite hobbies: pipe smoking.)

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A quantum leap in my education occurred when I stumbled upon alt.smokers.pipes, a pipe smoker's group and chat room. The chat room offered real-time fellowship with pipe smokers and connections with fellows literally across the globe who revere the briar and the sacred weed. I learned that there are indeed many more pipe smokers out there--people dedicated to keeping the art of pipes and everything pipe-centric alive. Many of these fellows were PhDs, whilst I was just beginning work on my Bachelor’s degree in Pipery. However, it was a friendly place, full of camaraderie, and upon arriving, I knew I belonged.
Pipe smoking, I found, was relaxing. It reminded me of fishing. I realize that is not a logical link, but for me the similarities lie in that while I am either fishing or smoking a pipe, I am thinking of little else. My mind disengages from the outside world and all that exists at the time is within the circle including me, my pipe and my pipe gadgets. For fishing, the circle is a little bigger, as it has to include the lure/bait and the 30-or-so feet of monofilament between us both.
I began buying new pipes, new tobaccos and the gadgetry of pipe smoking. I began educating myself on the things I needed to know to avoid tongue bite, the plague of all new pipe smokers and the one thing that turns most novices against the hobby. I began to learn the differences in tobaccos and blends, finding some I liked and some I didn't like so much.
Eventually, I built myself a pipe cabinet, based on my own original design. It remains one of  the woodworking projects of which I'm most proud. My pipe collection has grown over the years, now consisting of 40-or-so different pipes. Some are in my regular rotation, some slip in on rare occasions, and others I never smoke yet don't want to get rid of. I bought some new and some used, some online and others from brick-and-mortar locales. I have my favorites, for sure. Some are sentimental favorites. Others smoke well. Yet others I like because of their looks. Many of my favorites exist in two or more of these categories.
Pipes have an interesting history, reaching back hundreds of years, yet they still have a modern appeal for many, myself included. What can I say? I love pipes!
(Pictured: Savinelli #611 Sandblast; another from my collection)
(To be continued.)

Dwelling in the Land of Pipe Smokers: Part I

(This is the first part in a four-part series on one of my favorite hobbies: pipe smoking. Enjoy.)

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The year was 2002, if memory serves, and I was on the cusp of a journey to a wonderful land. It is a land sparsely populated with wise, thoughtful people, a group whose number I gladly joined and among whom I've dwelt ever since. It is the Land of Pipe Smokers.
My father and I had taken my grandmother on a field trip to her home. She was living in an "assisted living center" at the time, and we thought a trip to the old home place would be just what the doctor prescribed. The validity of our observations I will not discuss, except to reference the old saying: "You can never go home."
As she was in another room with my dad, going through closets and drawers, searching for happier days, I was rummaging through a dresser drawer full of things long forgotten. In that drawer, I found a pipe that had belonged to my grandfather. He had been a pipe smoker in his earlier days; I remember cans of Sir Walter Raleigh sitting around their house. I pocketed the pipe with little else planned except to take possession of a missing part of my past.
The pipe sat around for a number of weeks. I noticed a faint voice occasionally calling to me from the direction of my grandpa's old pipe. I didn't understand the language of pipes then, but intuition told me it wanted to be smoked. Not knowing what else to do, I went to Walgreen's and purchased a pouch of Captain Black.
My initial pipe experience was like many initial experiences that later prove to be enjoyable: it was fraught with mistakes and unpleasantness, rooted in ignorance. Undaunted, I set out to educate myself on the wisdom of pipes and pipe smoking.
(Pictured: Peterson Aran 80S, Shape: Bent Rhodesian; one of my collection)
To be continued...

A Shaving Pilgrimage

Being a male in these times, one has to be familiar with the act of shaving. The vogueness of beards comes and goes in various forms, but shaving has become an essential part of manhood, like it or not. It is a huge industry, with companies trying to separate men from their hard-earned dollars by offering the latest and greatest in shaving implements, usually overpriced multi-bladed razors promising to shave closer and closer and closer yet.

There have been some advances in shaving that have improved the lot of those cursed with unwanted facial hair. The modern safety razor is one. The disposable razor is the most prominent member in that class, but disposability doesn't add anything to the usefulness or benefit of the modern razor. There are still sharp razors out there, ready to do a good job for those who aren't quickly taken in by the latest shaving gimmick or innovation.

When I was a junior in college, I moved into an on-campus apartment with my friend, John. In a local store, I saw and was mesmerized by an Old Spice shaving mug/brush set. To that point in my lifetime, shaving creams had ruled and the mug/brush was an archaic throwback, yet I was taken in completely. There were benefits, I learned, to shaving with a mug and brush. You can make the lather hot with hot water, and that makes for a more pleasant, smoother shave. So I bought the mug and began my journey of shaving with a mug and brush.

Much to my dismay, the Old Spice mug and brush didn't last. The mug broke and was replaced by a coffee cup. The brush eventually gave out, too, and was replaced over and over again through the years. I now have a coffee cup I've been using for quite some time. The brushes, while not common, are not hard to find. Online, the array is astonishing, and a simple version can be found at virtually any Walgreen's or CVS. I haven't purchased a can of shaving cream for nearly 30 years. I take a bar of soap, usually one of the glycerine types with a pleasant aroma, carve it down to fit in my mug, and that works just fine. I like the way the foam rinses out of my razor, not clogging it up like shaving creams tend to do. I like the feeling of the warm suds, as opposed to the coldness of a can of shaving cream. On the whole, I find it's a much more pleasant experience. I will most likely never go back to shaving creams. As long as a boar- or badger-bristle brush is available, I'll have my mug or a version of it at the ready.

Razors have changed much more than the foamy side of the equation. Going from the straight-edge razor to the ever-increasing array of blades mounted in today's razors seems a quantum leap of sorts, yet the practical improvements have been much more subtle. To be able to shave without cutting oneself to ribbons is a plus, but this has been possible for many years. In my judgement, little has improved in razor technology since the Gillette Good News, one of the first twin-bladed disposable razors, came on the market in 1976. The Good News arguably remains one of the best razors on the market and has changed very little since it's advent. Practically every disposable razor out there will trace its roots to the Good News.

So, if you shave (your face) regularly, think of changing up your game. Get a brush and see how you like it. You just may find yourself smitten.

Foolishness?

There's a verse in I Corinthians (1:18, to be exact) that reads, "For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God." 

This is full of meaning--practical meaning--and truth. We that not only consider ourselves believers but have allowed the gospel to fill and shape our lives understand what it means. Yet the concept of the cross, of its sacrifice and of the power of that sacrifice and of the resurrection, sound like a silly tale to many people. The notion of such a thing is strange to some people because they don't acknowledge the need for such an event. To believers, it's not silly. To believers, the crucifixion and the resurrection are God's greatest work, and, according to scriptures, it's something that He planned from the beginning of time.

Reflecting on this fills me with an awe and wonder that I cannot describe. God's power, focused on one moment in time, accomplished a feat that could be accomplished in no other way. It's magnitude is not lost on me. This event will continue to cascade throughout time and eternity and will never be eclipsed, never overshadowed, by any other thing. There is nothing else that will ever command the awe and wonder that the cross commands, and those who fail to bow to its purpose will spend eternity regretting that decision.

Phillips, Craig and Dean recorded a song, "Crucified with Christ", that codifies this feeling for myself and many others. It testifies to the awe-inspiring work found in the cross and the desire it creates in believers to sacrifice our own lives daily, not on a Roman cross, but in relinquishing our will to see His will done.

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 As I look back on what I thought was living
I'm amazed at the price I chose to pay
And to think I ignored what really mattered
'Cause I thought the sacrifice would be too great
But when I finally reached the point of giving in
I found the cross was calling even then
And even though it took dying to survive
I've never felt so much alive.

For I am crucified with Christ and yet I live
Not I but Christ that lives within me
His Cross will never ask for more than I can give
For its not my strength but His
There's no greater sacrifice
For I am crucified with Christ

and yet I live

As I hear the Savior call for daily dying
I will bow beneath the weight of Calvary
Let my hands surrender to His piercing purpose
That holds me to the cross yet sets me free
I will glory in the power of the cross
The things I thought were gain I count as loss
And with His suffering I identify
And by His resurrection power I am alive

And I will offer all I have
So that His cross is not in vain
For I found to live is Christ
And to die is truly gain

© 1995 by Randy Phillips, Denise Phillips, Dave Clark and Don Koch. From the Phillips, Craig and Dean album, "Trust".