1. Alligator Gar
2. JustTroItIn - Strong
3. Branzig- Strong
4. Tobias Lutz
5. LandonColby
6. Lostmason
7. Bluenoser
8. BryBuySC - Strong
9. GWBowman - Strong
10. MrMotoyoshi - Strong
11. Chris0673 - Mild
12. Horsefeathers - Strong
Printable View
1. Alligator Gar
2. JustTroItIn - Strong
3. Branzig- Strong
4. Tobias Lutz
5. LandonColby
6. Lostmason
7. Bluenoser
8. BryBuySC - Strong
9. GWBowman - Strong
10. MrMotoyoshi - Strong
11. Chris0673 - Mild
12. Horsefeathers - Strong
The LUTZ Contest:
There are now 20 slots available and I've added some prizes.
Please read through my BS for details (my way of getting you to read the whole thing).
Pictures of the prizes will follow in this thread in separate posts..
Once all the reviews for the blind test are in, I will judge the winners based on how closely the review expresses my experience with that tobacco or for any reason I wish, like literary merit or sweeping epic BS. My choice but I solicit opinions that I may ignore :hiccup:.
First Prize: Barling #5579 canadian from ~1966.
Second: Barling Londoner 1/8th bent pot from ~1970.
Contest within a Contest:
Pipe smokers all have tales that help express their passion for this endeavor. While we're waiting (actually - you're waiting) I thought an entertaining contest might be in order.
Tell a story about pipe smoking. It can be humorous, sad or whatever as long as you were a participant or witness. I invite anyone and everyone to share a tale.
“Acts have their being in the witness. Without him who can speak of it? In the end one could even say that the act is nothing, the witness all.” (Cormac McCarthy, The Crossing).
Next Tuesday we'll poll this thread and vote on the best story and the winning author will receive a briar pipe with the tobacco that I send to you. No plagerism please :). In the event that a winner isn't apparent from public voting @TobiasLutz and I will select the winner. All sales are final. No returns or refunds. No whining.
First Prize: Barling #5574 canadian from ~1966. From the same collection as the #5579 above, bit shorter but virtually the same pipe.
The Catch:
Yes, you have to be on the nominations list to win this prize. In other words, I won't send the pipe out by itself, so if you haven't already, sign up for the sample and start writing! In the event that someone who is not on the nominations list wins, we'll congratulate you but give the prize to the next best entry. Please number your stories (sequentially) to help avoid confusion. I confuse easily.
The Prizes:
All of these pipes are in good to excellent condition. Some knot-head lightly sanded the rims of the Barlings but the pipes are solid. I will professionally (no snickering) ream the pipes before sending but you'll have to clean/restore to your standards (ebBay speak). Please post pics when you're finished and make me wish I kept this trio. Failure to post pics will insure that you're navel fills with lint. If you have an 'outy', you can ignore the last line.
I am called NeverBend for several reasons, not the least of which is that this 1/8th bent Londoner is, to me, like an Oom-Paul to you (just thought I'd mention this). Should one of our foreign friends, (not USA) win, we'll try to work something out but please write a story.
Tobias and I can (and I will) enter the story contest and Tobias is eligible to win but he can't receive the (story) prize. (Sorry Tobias, I'll try to make i up to you by harassing @Banzig until he sends you one of his prized CustomBilts). If you vote for me to win the contest I will lose all respect for you as I already have for myself. OK, I'll write about cigars to disqualify myself so no sympathy votes for me.
Write men, write!
Attachment 1460Attachment 1461
~1966 Barling #5579 canadian
First prize for winning the LUTZ.
My apologies but after uploading the two pics of the LUTZ First Prize I was unable to upload any more pics.
I put them on DropBox and this is a link to the folder. You may need to register with DropBox to see the them. Sorry for the inconvenience and don't mess with the other pics :).
https://www.dropbox.com/sh/ygdi08237...PGWko9K7a?dl=0
Hi Chris,Quote:
Originally Posted by Chris0673
Sorry to hear of his passing. Magnificent, powerful and fragile all in the same package. Do you know what he died from?
Great placement on the star and a lovely head. A thoroughbred, yes?
Pete
This is a contest? Hmmmm...so whomever writes the best review wins?Quote:
Originally Posted by NeverBend
Quote:
Originally Posted by NeverBend
Yes, he was a thoroughbred stallion. Arabian, if I recall correctly. He died of old age.
I would love to join but my review would be worthless. I can barely make out what flavor I'm getting now. I just know if I like it or not, though I would try my best, which probably sucks.
Story number 0 (zero) - mine doesn't count. Yours should be waaay shorter than mine but I hope that you'll indulge me for writing the long version.
A Day in Milan - A smoker's story
It was 1986 and it was the only time that my brother and I travelled together. When you go to Italy, for any any reason, you’d be foolish not to spend time taking in this magnificent country. So it was understood, whether we went together or alone that we added time and expected to have a blast along with work. He spoke the language and I butchered it but in Italy that doesn’t matter.
We imported pipes and I smoked them avidly but we travelled with cigars. It was inevitable that a customs guard would drop and damage the pipes and spill the tobacco. I prefer my Dunhill #965 without a topping of Eau de Dirt. Cigars hid well in shoes and in Europe, if found, they never interested customs. Besides, we always had a lot of pipes to carry home and our personal stock could cloud the issue. Once the cigars were gone, there’s nothing left to carry around, but while we were travelling they were precious. You’d understand this if you ever wanted to buy a cigar in Italy in 1986.
Our trips always started with Gino in Milan and then we’d go with him to spend a day with Gigi at his home and workshop.
On this trip, the next day was ours and we headed off, on foot, from Gino’s store at 32 Via Vitruvio for another of my brother’s meandering, “I know where we are” walks. It’s a good two miles but it took a couple of hours only made easier by our Te Amo Toro Maduros from our freshly stocked travel stash. He was always trying to prove that he knew Milan or Rome better than me and he usually proved the opposite. When we arrived I was a bit surly having barely started our second, very precious, cigar.
In 1986 the dining hall of the Monastery of Santa Maria delle Grazie had just begun it’s massive restoration and it’s humble facade gave no clue to the wonder inside, The Last Supper by Leonardo da Vinci. Once we were convinced that bringing the lit stogies inside might not be viewed favorably our priority became finding a suitable place to hide them awaiting our return. No stub left behind and these were barely started.
The back of the dining hall building looked nothing like a church. It’s brick construction looked more like a garden apartment and it had a small courtyard with a tree that had to two large branches that divided into a ‘Y’ at about eye level.
I slipped my cigar onto the mortar between two bricks on the ledge of a window that was just above my head and urged my brother to do the same but he knew better and he chose the ‘Y’ of the tree. If you weren’t seven feet tall you’d never be able to see my cigar but my brother’s butt was in plain sight.
We’re talking smoking here, not art, but there was no one except us in the dining hall to admire The Last Supper for twenty minutes before people started to arrive and it was sublime. I almost clubbed a Dutch dick who kept leaning over the scaffolding to see if he could touch the painting.
As we turned into the courtyard horror struck. A genuine, first issue, Italian bum with soiled pants that Mussolini must have been shot in was right in front of the tree, eyeballing the curious black stick cradled in the ‘Y’ of the branches.
I have no idea what the hell my brother yelled at this guy, other than ‘it’s mine’, but he was pissed.
The bum picked up the cigar.
I ran to the window and the brick ledge and reached up.
Bingo, no worries. It’s all good.
By now my brother and the bum were speaking rapid fire in Italian and then, with a flourish, the bum slipped the entire cigar into his mouth, rolled it around and produced it dripping with saliva. He extended the soaked stogie towards my brother and in clear Italian said, “Per favore, si fuma si” (please, you smoke it).
We took my route back to Gino’s store and made it in half the time. The rest of that cigar is one of the best smokes I’ve ever had.
Matt,Quote:
Originally Posted by cbr310
I just spent a few hours reviewing the rules and there's nothing about level of experience. By all means sign up but try MILD :).
And you could win another pipe with a simple story about pipes. (see below).Quote:
Originally Posted by Chris0673
Old age is the way that any horse should go. It happens and glad that it wasn't something else.
It's a small picture but his face isn't dished (it's a thoroughbred face). If you ever get the chance could you find out his name and breed, I'd love to see his pedigree.
1. Alligator Gar
2. JustTroItIn - Strong
3. Branzig- Strong
4. Tobias Lutz
5. LandonColby
6. Lostmason
7. Bluenoser
8. BryBuySC - Strong
9. GWBowman - Strong
10. MrMotoyoshi - Strong
11. Chris0673 - Mild
12. Horsefeathers - Strong
13. cbr310-mild
[QUOTE=NeverBend;35487]Story number 0 (zero) - mine doesn't count. Yours should be waaay shorter than mine but I hope that you'll indulge me for writing the long version.
A Day in Milan - A smoker's story
It was 1986 and it was the only time that my brother and I travelled together. When you go to Italy, for any any reason, you’d be foolish not to spend time taking in this magnificent country. So it was understood, whether we went together or alone that we added time and expected to have a blast along with work. He spoke the language and I butchered it but in Italy that doesn’t matter.
We imported pipes and I smoked them avidly but we travelled with cigars. It was inevitable that a customs guard would drop and damage the pipes and spill the tobacco. I prefer my Dunhill #965 without a topping of Eau de Dirt. Cigars hid well in shoes and in Europe, if found, they never interested customs. Besides, we always had a lot of pipes to carry home and our personal stock could cloud the issue. Once the cigars were gone, there’s nothing left to carry around, but while we were travelling they were precious. You’d understand this if you ever wanted to buy a cigar in Italy in 1986.
Our trips always started with Gino in Milan and then we’d go with him to spend a day with Gigi at his home and workshop.
On this trip, the next day was ours and we headed off, on foot, from Gino’s store at 32 Via Vitruvio for another of my brother’s meandering, “I know where we are” walks. It’s a good two miles but it took a couple of hours only made easier by our Te Amo Toro Maduros from our freshly stocked travel stash. He was always trying to prove that he knew Milan or Rome better than me and he usually proved the opposite. When we arrived I was a bit surly having barely started our second, very precious, cigar.
In 1986 the dining hall of the Monastery of Santa Maria delle Grazie had just begun it’s massive restoration and it’s humble facade gave no clue to the wonder inside, The Last Supper by Leonardo da Vinci. Once we were convinced that bringing the lit stogies inside might not be viewed favorably our priority became finding a suitable place to hide them awaiting our return. No stub left behind and these were barely started.
The back of the dining hall building looked nothing like a church. It’s brick construction looked more like a garden apartment and it had a small courtyard with a tree that had to two large branches that divided into a ‘Y’ at about eye level.
I slipped my cigar onto the mortar between two bricks on the ledge of a window that was just above my head and urged my brother to do the same but he knew better and he chose the ‘Y’ of the tree. If you weren’t seven feet tall you’d never be able to see my cigar but my brother’s butt was in plain sight.
We’re talking smoking here, not art, but there was no one except us in the dining hall to admire The Last Supper for twenty minutes before people started to arrive and it was sublime. I almost clubbed a Dutch dick who kept leaning over the scaffolding to see if he could touch the painting.
As we turned into the courtyard horror struck. A genuine, first issue, Italian bum with soiled pants that Mussolini must have been shot in was right in front of the tree, eyeballing the curious black stick cradled in the ‘Y’ of the branches.
I have no idea what the hell my brother yelled at this guy, other than ‘it’s mine’, but he was pissed.
The bum picked up the cigar.
I ran to the window and the brick ledge and reached up.
Bingo, no worries. It’s all good.
By now my brother and the bum were speaking rapid fire in Italian and then, with a flourish, the bum slipped the entire cigar into his mouth, rolled it around and produced it dripping with saliva. He extended the soaked stogie towards my brother and in clear Italian said, “Per favore, si fuma si” (please, you smoke it).
We took my route back to Gino’s store and made it in half the time. The rest of that cigar is one of the best smokes I’ve ever had.[/lol I love it! Didnt even have to say i told you so!!
So my piping started back in late 2014. I bought my first pipe, a Dr Grabow savoy smooth. Im so excited and rush home to put otc blend in it and fire it up. I wasnt on the internet and had no clue about the crazy amount of baccy available. So Im firing up my pipe and my wife comes home, comes downstairs takes 1 look and busts out laughing! She asked "what the hell are you doing you look like a complete jackass!" I dont even smoke cigarettes. I told her I have a new hobby, but never realized how awesome and addictive it would become.(not addicted nicotine wise just fun) My friends all chuckled at the sight of me with the pipe in my mouth, and one even tried it. Now She just shakes her head when I take a picture and post it up on here. Guess I really have no funny story cause I dont know a single person that smokes a pipe beside myself, but just thought I share something. Really glad I found this place and made some friends that I would love to meet in person some day.
OK, here is my submission. Sorry if this goes a bit long... Grab a pipe and read up boys and girls :pipe:
Story No. 2: A Hobby Becomes A Passion
For as long as I have been using tobacco, I have had an infatuation with these silly smoking vessels that we all know as pipes. I don't know what is about it. I mean, it is just a hunk of wood with some holes drilled into it and some rubber added to the end. You have a bowl, an airway, and a stem to smoke with. So simple. But still...something about them.
I started smoking cigarettes at 13, like most kids, to look cool. Eventually, cigarettes became more of a friend than a fashion trend for me. When I was upset, they settled me. When I was happy, they escalated my being. When I was stressed, they relieved me. Before I knew it, my 1-4 cigarettes a day habit became a pack or so a day instead. I was in school to be a writer, and started to work for some media and music publications, mainly writing reviews. I was going through 1-2 packs a day writing for these guys, so I wanted to take up the pipe because of the room note and to cut back on my cigarette habit. It was around this time I picked up my first Dr. Grabow. A Golden Duke. It was a junk pipe that gurgled, smoked wet, and burned hot. I don't know why or how many bowls I smoked through that pipe, but I loved it. I loved everything about it. I have always wanted a pipe. I wanted to be a writer. Twain, Hemingway, Lewis, Dr. Seuss, Hunter S. Thompson...all amazing writers, all pipe smokers. I was living my dream. Smoking a pipe and writing. I smoked the hell out of that little Grabow, all the way up until one of my idiot "friends" defiled her with some contraband...then the Duke was retired.
Years went by and my path in life changed dramatically. My dreams and aspirations of becoming a professional writer went on the back burner (they are still simmering back there) and I started my current career. Kids were born, rings were exchanged, vows were made. Time dried up and so did my tobacco use. Cigarettes were a thing of the past now and I had gone through a pretty intense cigar phase that was quickly vanishing as well. However, the pipe always stuck around. At this point I had maybe 3 little Grabows and a LHS that my friend had found and given me. The LHS was disgusting, so I never smoked it. I figured it was a lost cause. I did some research about it and found out a lot about LHS pipes...and their age. I am a history buff, so the thought of smoking and having an old pipe really fascinated me. Who smoked it? Where had the pipe been? What happened while that pipe was clinched in someone's mouth...All these things just fascinated me. I began searching vociferously for ways to make this LHS smoke worthy again. Along the way, I found a lot of awful information, but I struggled through it and got the pipe to where it at least was smoke worthy...and what a sweet smoker she is.
That little junker LHS started something that I haven't been able to get away from since. I have become somewhat obsessed with restoring and bringing new life to these old relics. I spend countless hours of my own free time (which I have little of I mind you) researching pipes, their makers, their construction, where they were primarily sold and of course buying them up. My idea of "me time" is sitting down with some OxiClean, Magic erasers, and Micro sanding pads to hand clean stems for a couple hours. Sanding down a pipe to bare briar and re-staining it. The first smoke. Probably the most rewarding part of my hobby now is being able to pass the knowledge I have acquired on to others. Nothing makes me happier than knowing I helped out a fellow enthusiast with their own personal project. The thanks from others is all I need to keep on trucking. Preserving history and helping out others is what is all about to me, and of course, having a nice smoker at the end of it all is a plus as well :pipe:
Hi Matt,Quote:
Originally Posted by cbr310
Your story is Number 1. @Branzig was observant and kind enough to reserve this number for you by leapfrogging.
Excellent start Matt and Brandon, well done. Someone's gonna win a Barling!
The Barling Londoner Pot is broken. My fault. It's the first pipe I've ever dropped and broken. I was carrying it outside to ream and clean it when my hand spasmed and the tenon snapped when it hit the floor.
Therefore, I'm replacing the Londoner 1/8th bent pot with a BB&S Rallye #5579 canadian. It's a Barling made pipe (actually the Londoner is a BB&S too) from ~1970. It's from the same collection as the other two prizes and it's the same shape as the LUTZ first prize.
I guess I'll toss in a little number. I love the idea of sharing stories, and more so that there are some being shared!
Number 3 - Brotherly Love
As with all things, the effects of time are inevitable. It's toll on my family is still in it's adolescence and I see us all drifting farther from each other, in both distance and heart.
But as any good guys or gals we try and set aside time every so often or when we can afford it, to get together and pretend as if nothing has changed over the years.
It was October, and for all the Colby boys that meant one thing...Elk season. The one time of year when the family back home in Minnesota, and the free birds that moved to California both travel to Colorado to set up camp, smoke good leaf, drink too many beers, and freeze their nuts off.
I grabbed a couple of tins, my beat around briars, and a couple handfuls of cigars, enough to satisfy both mine and my brother's appetite for a week or so. After making the 13 hour drive to Eagle and setting up camp in a complete white out blizzard, my eight other cousin's and uncles and I were puffing away on various cigars and passing around a bottle of Wiser's Canadian Whiskey with a salt shaker to do honkers in honor of the passing of my father's brother. Man, was it good to all be back together again.
The sun rose the following morning to reveal a crisp clear day with the high sitting right around 10 or 15 degrees...perfect day to track an elk. I lit my pipe and grabbed my rifle. Tipped my hat to my brother who was trying to light his cigar in the light breeze and headed off towards the treeline. Right away I found a nice set of tracks that I followed for nearly a mile, they took me straight up a ridge but when they dropped off to the left down into the gorge I decided to plant my ass in the snow and wait. It was a perfect spot, the trees gave way to a clearing that over looked the entire valley down below me and the sun shining off of last night's snow lit the whole place up like a blanket of diamonds and there was nothing except me and complete, dead silence. I lit a fresh pipe and settled into the snow up to my chest and with a large pine at my back, I waited. An hour and a half went by and still no movement. Before I knew it I was nodding off and then it all went black.
I woke up later to my brother giving me a shake and asking if I was alright, "yes, yes I'm fine" I replied. When my eyes adjusted I could see the sun just peeping through the trees on the far side of the valley, I was absolutely chilled and bitter cold. My brother produced a couple hand warmers and a silver flask and told me how he came looking for me out of worry when the sun started to drop, I left a clear trail up into the trees so I was easy to find. We sat there for at least another hour sharing the whiskey and laughing when I finally asked what had been plaguing my mind recently. "Do you think we are drifting apart?" He gave a slow, single nod while staring off into the ground showing that he understood. Then he looked at me and said "No. Only off to sleep". He gave a grin and slapped me on the shoulder and we headed back to camp.
I lost that pipe in the snow, as it must've fell out of my mouth when I dozed off. But it didn't bug me in the least because of the moment I shared that day with my brother. Since that day we have never been closer. I guess it's safe to say that sometimes pipe dreams do come true.
Oh, No! That is always a horrible, slow-motion-inducing event!Quote:
Originally Posted by NeverBend
Yes, exactly.Quote:
Originally Posted by BryGuySC
Thanks to all the story posters, they're fabulous! Keep them coming.
Quick tobacconist story to keep the juices flowing.
Story Zero ^ 2 (Zero Squared) Clueless
He was born Bob Clue so you know everyone called him Bob Clueless but not to his face because he was a bear of a man. Sharp dresser and hair always just so, he'd have looked more at home next to Tony Soprano than selling wares to smoke shops.
He spent most of his time brown nosing bigger volume accounts and the smaller ones generally saw him at the RTDA trade show. He wasn't missed.
Even at the RTDA, where he relentlessly sucked on his scotch, he still sucked up to his big accounts and none was bigger than Malcolm Calderon. The RTDA was in New York City as it often was in those days, Malcolm's home town.
"Malcolm, hey, great to see you. When you gonna let me show you how this town really cooks!", Clue bumped his elbow against Malcolm's arm.
"We'll see. How's the show going for you? Doing well?"
Even as they spoke Clue's eyes swept the floor of the main ballroom looking for notable accounts when he stopped and pointed towards a woman sitting cross-legged on a stool.
"Holy Sh*t Malcolm!", Clue gestured towards the woman.
"How'd you like to shimmy up between those legs?"
Malcolm looked at the woman and then at Clue, "I do Bob, every night. That's my wife."
True story told to me by Malcolm. Names were changed.
Hahaha! Great story, Pete!
I must say, I am fascinated by your writing. There is a particular tone, a certain articulation that makes the words effortless to swallow. Very easy to read anything you put forth.
Damn, good stories fellas! You can definitely tell who the truck driver is that wrote 1 of these stories! Lol
Thanks Landon but you guys are making this into the most literate pipe forum around. I like your explanation is most kind but, frankly, better writing in your one line than I put forth, and more concise.Quote:
Originally Posted by LandonColby
I stopped driving the truck after I ran over one of those big, vinyl garbage cans at a service center. Made the thing as flat as a pancake. It was a horse van and I couldn't leave them to go inside so I tried to find the owners name and then sent a check for $50 (probably not enough) for the container. That was perhaps 10 years ago and the check has never been cashed. Guess they felt sorry for me or the horses.Quote:
Originally Posted by cbr310
Loved your story, it so smacked of the first time that we all realized that we really liked pipes and our mates did too.
We are the witnesses.
Second tobacco arrived. The tins aren't going to be sent, sorry. Nor is the coffee :).
Attachment 1496
Went outside as soon as I'd posted and there were the vac bags.
I'll start packing this weekend.
Anyone know why I'm not being allowed to upload pics? Tried to do it here (as an Edit) and in a new post without success. Happened yesterday too. Not that it's exciting to see boxes vac bags. Any help would be appreciate.
I'll sign up if there's still time but don't expect any gustatory miracles from me. :)
I'd take that Barling Londoner Pot you broke if you want to send it along. I'll replace the tenon with a brass bullet casing or something. Maybe I'll even cut a thread in the mortise and make the stem thread in with a stainless insert... who knows. Sounds like a project.
1. Alligator Gar
2. JustTroItIn - Strong
3. Branzig- Strong
4. Tobias Lutz
5. LandonColby
6. Lostmason
7. Bluenoser
8. BryBuySC - Strong
9. GWBowman - Strong
10. MrMotoyoshi - Strong
11. Chris0673 - Mild
12. Horsefeathers - Strong
13. cbr310-mild
14. Emperor Zurg
@NeverBend
Just give me 24 hours notice of when you need the address list and I'll close sign-ups and forward it to you.
Hi Tobias,Quote:
Originally Posted by Tobias Lutz
Why don't we close the nominations on Tuesday.
If it's OK I'd like to move up the story deadline to Sunday at 6pm and vote it later that evening. This way I can include the prize in the package.
As long as I can get to the Post Office I should be mailing by Thursday at the latest.
Anyone not cool with the above? NOMS end Tuesday, STORY ends Sunday.
Im fine with whatever you been more than gracious!
You call me gracious?? Wait till you get the bill!! :pQuote:
Originally Posted by cbr310
I'll join this party.
1. Alligator Gar
2. JustTroItIn - Strong
3. Branzig- Strong
4. Tobias Lutz
5. LandonColby
6. Lostmason
7. Bluenoser
8. BryBuySC - Strong
9. GWBowman - Strong
10. MrMotoyoshi - Strong
11. Chris0673 - Mild
12. Horsefeathers - Strong
13. cbr310-mild
14. Emperor Zurg
15. cpmcdill
Pipe story number 4
My first contact with tobacco was...well a long time ago. When I was just tall enough to do the job, my uncle gave me and my sister jobs working at the tobacco barn handing to a tier. These women were fast. My sister and I both handing, and Sandra still has time to light a cigarette. The curtain falls and time passes, it's Christmas time 2013. I no longer dip or chew. My gums were against it, but I'm a pack or better a day smoker. Our sons are in for the holiday and talking premium, hand rolled cigars. It starts drawing me, whispering my name. (no not really) As I'm researching online, I join a forum. A lot of great guys there. One that looked like you, and you and Auntie Em. Sorry, wrong flashback. The pipers on the forum are having such fun, it's not long till I stop at a B&M to get a MM Cob and a few pouches. After adding a few more pipes off the bay, I fall victim to a couple of tobacco splits. During the 2014 Holiday season, I went to my outbuilding and dug out an old shoe box from the '80s. Inside are three briars, a small meer, something my dad bought at a yard sale and a cob he made. There was even a couple of ounces of two different Tinderbox aros. Well, I might smoke one or two cigars a week, or none. But I bought a little zip up bag to carry a couple of pipes, baccy, tamp and cleaners to the van every morning. My wife even made me a bean bag to set my pipe on when I get out of the vehicle. I might smoke a couple of cigarettes a day or a dozen. A couple of days I didn't have any. (still not against them, smoke what you like and like what you smoke) Yep, I've got it bad. Now when I log on, I can't tell the support group from the enablers...as if there is a difference.
Hi. My name is George and I have TAD.
Nice story George thanks for sharing!
[*]Say Strong or Mild when you sign up, just that - no explanation and I may accommodate.
Strong as balls, please.
What an intrepid bunch of smokers. The last guy to attempt a bowl of Brown Boogie hasn't been right in the mind for 12 years. Oops! That's me! See!Quote:
Originally Posted by Alligator Gar
(sorry, I have no more Brown Boogie - I must have smoked it all).
Hey Jim,Quote:
Originally Posted by Alligator Gar
Do you know New Smyrna Beach?
You guys are writing great stories! Pulitzer candidates for sure.
Story Zero Cubed (0 ^ 3) Another true story to keep the juices flowing on you most creative fellows.
My friend Wayne was an inveterate pipe smoker until one day when his doctor called him and said, "Wayne, I'm looking at your x-rays and it's not good news, can you come into my office tomorrow?"
It was the worst that it could be, spots on his lung.
Tearfully he and his wife, Janice, packed up his beloved Charatans, tobacco, racks and accessories and packed them in a box. Wayne asked Janice to put them in a place where he wouldn't be able to see them, but he just couldn't part with them yet.
Wayne went to the hospital for a follow-up. Nothing. It was nothing at all. It turns out that his doctor had the x-rays for another patient. Wayne ran down the hall and called Janice at home and told her the good news.
On his way home Wayne stopped at the store and told me the story. "Wow, incredible, what great news!", I said. Wayne said that the first thing that he was going to do was hug Janice and the second was to light up a bowl of this John Cotten as he flipped the tin onto the counter with a $5 bill but I pushed the money back, "Smoke's on me Wayne!" and off he went.
He lived nearby and it wasn't 10 minutes later that I got a call. It was Wayne and he was crying.
"Oh my god, Wayne! The original x-rays were really yours?"
"No", he sobbed.
"Janice was so happy for me that she cleaned my pipes, in the dishwasher!"
I am intimately acquainted with NSB. We wouldn't have news in these parts if it wasn't for those guys.Quote:
Originally Posted by NeverBend
Jim,Quote:
Originally Posted by Alligator Gar
Some news that you may not have heard yet is that my mother-in-law lives in New Smyrna Beach so please, if you must go there, bring garlic, crosses, a wooden stake (a steak too) and a mallet because I'm not convinced that she's not a vampire and she certainly seems to be undead!! :eek::eek::eek:
@NeverBend Pete do these stories have to be in story form? Or would a bit of prose work too?
I don't really have a story specific to pipe smoking so I think I'll go with more of a ramble.
I've never been very good at working with wood. Measure twice, cut once, I still muck it up. I can take a motorcycle engine apart and put it back together again, but someone else has already gone through all the trouble of making sure the pieces fit in the first place. All I have to do is put things together in the opposite order I took them apart.
So how does all this tie into pipes? Well, when my interest was piqued about pipe smoking the tobacco wasn't the only draw. I became intrigued with the tools used to participate in the hobby. Tampers, reamers, brushes, knives, and of course the pipe itself.
I have always had a thing for tools. Growing up, my dad...let's just say he was frugal and would never pay anyone to work on our vehicles. I spent many an hour in the garage with dad holding flash lights, passing him tools, and learning an entire spectrum of four letter words (often strung together in an amazing tapestry of profanity!). Dad passed his knowledge of machines onto me and the plethora of tools that exist to keep them functioning properly. To this day when I'm putzing in the garage I'm a little tickled when I find “Well, damn...I'm going to have to add another tool to the box.”.
After smoking my first cob it wasn't long before I was spending hours at a time admiring the different styles, shapes, and materials for these smoking utensils. Reading theory about bowl size and complimentary tobacco. The unofficial science that is pipe smoking. This is also when I first learned about estate pipes.
Cleaning old grimy stuff is something I'm quite familiar with. When I was 15 my dad, an avid motorcyclist, purchased me a 1971 BMW R60/5 for Christmas. It had been sitting for years, the engine had been painted black, and it hardly ran. We had six months to fix it up before my 16th birthday to be ready for a 4000 mile father/son road trip. In those six months I cleaned more ancient grease, grime, and dirt from more parts than I care to remember. We did get the project completed in time and the bike is still my daily rider.
http://i222.photobucket.com/albums/d...319_100730.jpg
Flash forward to my research over on the old site and I see this guy @Branzig turning stuff that looked like this:
http://i1328.photobucket.com/albums/...psmklfwjxd.jpg
Into this:
http://i1328.photobucket.com/albums/...psuwtlujfi.jpg
I caught the disease. Winter was coming and I needed something to keep me occupied while I became a hermit until Spring. I did have my doubts considering I was going to deal with my arch nemesis...wood...but on the other hand mindless scrubbing for hours on end? I can do that!
I have now cleaned up around 30 estates (thanks a lot Branzig). It has been fulfilling bringing the old tools back to life. Even if it meant falling down another slippery slope. I'm to the point now that I want to try my hand at refinishing. If that works out possibly rusticating then repairing. I may even get to buy more tools!