Kyle Weiss
Well-known member
- Joined
- Sep 18, 2011
- Messages
- 11,988
- Reaction score
- 9
http://pipesmagazine.com/blog/out-of-the-ashes/the-virtue-of-persistence/#more-5857
Greg's article had me thinking further of certain pipes I had picked up that acted a fool on me when I first got them... not bad smokers all around, but for some reason even my favorite mixes and blends simply went napalm on my tongue and I couldn't understand why. Naturally, being relatively new in this game, I blamed myself, and figured I still had more to learn about smoking. That's a good, humble approach much of the time.
It wasn't until I had recalled sitting on my porch with a pipeful, which is common for me to do at least once a day, that a few of my pipes just hated me. I knew I wasn't stressed and puffing like a train, I hadn't packed hastily or skipped a drying step, nor did I accidentally put in a pinch of pure Perique by mistake. So, what did I do? Took the damn pipes out on the town with me (or out in the field), figuring, "...well, if you're gonna be like that, fine, if you get broken or lost, at least we had parted ways."
No loss, no breakage, but I happily stuffed in bowl after bowl of something mild, deep in conversation with people, reading a book, mindlessly drawing, tamping, getting the thing hotter than I normally would, then going home and doing a half-arsed job cleaning--possibly repeating this ritual the next day. No rest for the wicked.
One random day, some time later, I found myself with the problem of having been too busy, and had too many resting, dirty (but good) pipes, and I was faced with little choice--the Devil's Own Briar was available to me...and what do you know? It sang angelic rather than--how did Greg put it?
"The pipe balked. A couple of times, it threatened to drown itself in gurgling goo. Its head spun round. It spat at me, and it called me names in a terrifying voice."
With all of the variables, noobishness and personal blame that can happen with this hobby, sometimes it really is the pipe, and character and vigilance really can win out in the end! Had it not been for reading Greg's revelation, I probably would have concluded it was me that had bent to the will of the pipe--hey, it's happened.
Good stuff.
8)
Greg's article had me thinking further of certain pipes I had picked up that acted a fool on me when I first got them... not bad smokers all around, but for some reason even my favorite mixes and blends simply went napalm on my tongue and I couldn't understand why. Naturally, being relatively new in this game, I blamed myself, and figured I still had more to learn about smoking. That's a good, humble approach much of the time.
It wasn't until I had recalled sitting on my porch with a pipeful, which is common for me to do at least once a day, that a few of my pipes just hated me. I knew I wasn't stressed and puffing like a train, I hadn't packed hastily or skipped a drying step, nor did I accidentally put in a pinch of pure Perique by mistake. So, what did I do? Took the damn pipes out on the town with me (or out in the field), figuring, "...well, if you're gonna be like that, fine, if you get broken or lost, at least we had parted ways."
No loss, no breakage, but I happily stuffed in bowl after bowl of something mild, deep in conversation with people, reading a book, mindlessly drawing, tamping, getting the thing hotter than I normally would, then going home and doing a half-arsed job cleaning--possibly repeating this ritual the next day. No rest for the wicked.
One random day, some time later, I found myself with the problem of having been too busy, and had too many resting, dirty (but good) pipes, and I was faced with little choice--the Devil's Own Briar was available to me...and what do you know? It sang angelic rather than--how did Greg put it?
"The pipe balked. A couple of times, it threatened to drown itself in gurgling goo. Its head spun round. It spat at me, and it called me names in a terrifying voice."
With all of the variables, noobishness and personal blame that can happen with this hobby, sometimes it really is the pipe, and character and vigilance really can win out in the end! Had it not been for reading Greg's revelation, I probably would have concluded it was me that had bent to the will of the pipe--hey, it's happened.
Good stuff.
8)
