Upon sitting her pondering after a nice glass of bourbon, I was curious about the weirdest place you had ever purchased a pipe? Sadly mine would be ebay just because you never know but im sure there are better stories out there?
Oddest place you purchased a pipe?
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The oddest place I ever purchased a pipe is my local smoke shop. They stock hardly any pipe tobacco, catering mostly to the cheap cigarette and "little cigar" crowd.
Back when gas stations were just that.The owner a station had a box of pipes on the counter.I bought a GBD that had a design carved on the side.To my sorrow during my move from Michigan to Carolina a box with some of my pipes in it including that one got lost.I have absolutely no clue what happened to that box.It's never been seen again.
I know you said "pipe", but I'm gonna count this... When I first began collecting pipes, I exclusively collected Dunhill pipes. One day on a whim, I did a craigslist search for "Dunhill". All that popped up was a listing for "abandoned storage unit store fixtures" but included no photos or specifics. I sent an email with my phone number. I younger guy with a seriously thick southern accent called and said "I gots bunches of crap from an abandoned storage unit I bought and there's a cabinet with dunhill written on it". At this point I lost interest. To be polite I asked how much he wanted for it. He asked what part of town I was in. I told him and he then said that for $100 he'd deliver me the cabinet. I assumed it would be a small countertop thing... A cigarette counter display of some kind, but thought for a bill I'd take a gamble. Later that day he pulls up to my building with this. I was STUNNED. It's around 7-8ft tall with halogen spotlights. I had to spend a couple hundred more for new transformers and LED bulbs, but still it has been my "pipe" find favorite.
Sssshhhhh....
I bought a dozen pipes and a handmade pipe rack from a car trunk in a parking lot.
Might have been concerned, but the guy was 70 yrs old and told me where I could find the plans for the pipe rack he had built, back in the 1960's.
Wish I had known what the big tin of Mixture 79 would mean to trying to clean those pipes.
I bought a dozen pipes and a handmade pipe rack from a car trunk in a parking lot.
Might have been concerned, but the guy was 70 yrs old and told me where I could find the plans for the pipe rack he had built, back in the 1960's.
Wish I had known what the big tin of Mixture 79 would mean to trying to clean those pipes.
Probably the North Carolina State Fair, which is the only place other than the TAPS pipe show (also held
at the Fairgrounds but not during the Fair) where my go-to pipe carver sells his work. Second would be
the convenience section of a Kirksville, Missouri, gas station where I bought a MM cob off a rather dusty
card of pipes. The rest were all bought from online retailers, at local pipes shops, independent and a
chain, and at the pipe show.
at the Fairgrounds but not during the Fair) where my go-to pipe carver sells his work. Second would be
the convenience section of a Kirksville, Missouri, gas station where I bought a MM cob off a rather dusty
card of pipes. The rest were all bought from online retailers, at local pipes shops, independent and a
chain, and at the pipe show.
Maybe 4-years ago, or longer, I was at a night before the funeral viewing. I knew the manager very well. There was a nice Dunhill pipe sitting on the counter with a paper towel over it but the stem was protruding enough that I knew it was a pipe and a Dunhill at that. My friend the manager said it had been left by the widow who wanted her late husband to have the pipe in his hand during the viewing. It was an unsmoked ODA 835 Root. I asked my friend to have her call me if she wanted to sell the pipe. She did call and said her husband wasn't even a pipe smoker but liked to collect pipes and that her own father was a pipe smoker and he was buried with a pipe in his hand. The ODA Root, along with a couple of dozen pipes (mostly Dunhills and Astley's with a few Upshall's thrown in), were offered to me because she didn't want to keep the pipes for any particular reason.
I told the widow that she could get a lot more for those pipes if she let me sell them on eBay on consignment for her. She agreed and following the dispersal I sent her a hefty check. She called me after receiving it and said that she nearly fainted when she got the check. I said that her husband had a collection of very fine high grade pipes. She replied that if she had known that her husband was spending so much money on pipes she would have killed him again!
Pipestud
I told the widow that she could get a lot more for those pipes if she let me sell them on eBay on consignment for her. She agreed and following the dispersal I sent her a hefty check. She called me after receiving it and said that she nearly fainted when she got the check. I said that her husband had a collection of very fine high grade pipes. She replied that if she had known that her husband was spending so much money on pipes she would have killed him again!
Pipestud
I've gotten most of my pipes either from a pipe show, ordering them online, or from a B&M.
I did get a nice little Peterson Calabash from a long time friend of my mother in law though. She has her own antique store and found it laying around. When she shipped out some things for the mother in law and my girl she put it in the box. I was completely surprised by it and very grateful. Just had a bowl in it yesterday in fact. Great little 10 minute smoker.
I did get a nice little Peterson Calabash from a long time friend of my mother in law though. She has her own antique store and found it laying around. When she shipped out some things for the mother in law and my girl she put it in the box. I was completely surprised by it and very grateful. Just had a bowl in it yesterday in fact. Great little 10 minute smoker.
8O
I purchased a group of pipes off craigslist and we completed the transaction at a Friendlies parking lot. The other strangest place where I purchased a pipe was the clay pipe I bought at a Celtic festival/highland games in Richmond, VA last year. The cool thing about buying that pipe was that the vendor had a jar of tobacco that you could refill your pipe with free-of-charge for the rest of the day.
Pipestud, That story is even better than the fable of the widow with a Corvette in a barn, mostly because your story involves a man giving her a good deal rather than taking advantage of her.
At a tobacco store in Abu Dhabi during Desert Storm. It was a cheap basket pipe that I think I paid $20 for. That and a pouch of Borkum Riff. I was only dipping my toe in the pipe world and had one other pipe, a Dr Grabow that I bought at the PX before shipping out. I still have both of those pipes but don't smoke them.
I had to think about that one for a minute. I once purchased a pipe from a hunch back who had a small pipe store in Bramber in Sussex in England and sounded just like Benny Hill!
Dear reader, this is a long story (that just kept getting longer) but I think it’s worth the read. It’s a story about a pipe, a life lost too soon, a dog, Marines and their antics, and an unforgettable afternoon.
As of now my best pipe buying story involves my journey toward purchasing my second pipe. I currently live in Panama City, Florida and had purchased my first pipe at a local B&M. Their selection was very small however and I wanted more to choose from. A quick search on my iPhone found another shop that claimed to have an "extensive collection of briar tobacco pipes" but it happened to be 40 miles west. With nothing to do on a Sunday and driving my brand new car, a road trip sounded nice
The second B&M was a total bust. In fact it was a headshop. I asked the guy if he had any briar tobacco pipes and he pointed at one of his showcases full of glass blown "tobacco" pipes which I had already looked at. I went back to check just in case I missed something. Nope. I asked if he knew what briar was. Nope.
I searched the iPhone again and this time I was close enough to a Tinder Box for the search engine to pull it up. Of course it was in Pensacola another 50 miles west. Already invested I got behind the wheel and drove westward. Pensacola has an important place in my heart, that being the home of Naval Air Station Pensacola, where much of my Air Force career began. 13 years ago as an E-1 I was stationed at the NAS for technical training learning how to do my job. I found myself back at the old Cordova Mall, the same place us older teens had once flocked to while on base leave. The same place where we would take dates we weren't supposed to have and hopelessly clinging to a life lived before putting on the uniform, somewhat ignorant that we could never go back. I picked out a wonderful Ascorti 1998 Christmas pipe, 3 of 98, with original box and sock. The gentleman behind the counter (whose name I wish I remembered) was incredibly kind with his demeanor, time, and knowledge. I spent an hour with him. He gifted me my first Czech tool and shared with me how he packed a pipe. I was still very new to briar and this experience had a large impact on my opinion of the pipe smoking community.
Pensacola has another important place in my heart. It is the final resting place of a friend and fellow serviceman, Billy Wheeler. While serving in Alaska I had the opportunity to be stationed with Billy. He was a simple guy. Where he lacked in book smarts and sophistication, his heart and consideration for others made up for this in spades. He forced me to try Heinz 57 sauce, and while I begrudged it at the time, he was so proud of himself. Sadly, while helping remove a canopy from an F-15 cockpit, Billy took one too many steps backwards and fell from the top of the aircraft. He suffered head trauma and, with his wife and child at his side, was taken off life support on April 13, 2005. He was 24. Billy was laid to rest at NAS Pensacola home of Barrancas National Cemetery; closer to family and where, on Memorial Day three years prior, he placed U.S. flags on graves close to where he is now buried.
After wrapping things up at Tinder Box and finding myself in Pensacola for the first time since Billy’s passing, I knew where my next stop had to be. While walking out of the mall I saw a familiar sight; young, fit gentlemen with military haircuts waiting at the bus stop. I know all too well about their vehicle-less plight because I was once in their shoes at the exact same bus stop. I walked up to them, introduced myself, and showed them my military ID. I asked if they were headed to the NAS and if they wanted a ride. Sure enough they were and before I knew it my car was carrying four U.S. Marines.
On the way to base we hit some uncharacteristically dense traffic. Up ahead we saw a young black bull terrier playing in the middle of the street. Not really all that surprising two of the passengers wanted to do something to help. They asked if I’d be willing to wait while they “save the dog.” God bless the Marines. I was happy to oblige their request. They went up to the dog who joyfully welcomed his new playmates. In the middle of a six lane roadway, all three dog-tagged individuals (two marines, one k-9) chased each other while stopped traffic rubbernecked. The fact that the guys couldn’t help but laugh didn’t aid their cause. After a half minute of this they got serious and collared the collared dog. As they brought the dog over to the sidewalk another car pulled over and out popped a woman; a beautiful woman at that. Perhaps ten years older than the guys were but not at all too old to eliminate possibilities. I’ll never know exactly what was said between the two guys and the lovely lady but within minutes they came back up to my window and told me that they were going to “help her by holding her dog while she drove home.” From there she would return them (presumably no worse for wear) to the base. God bless the Marines.
After dropping the two young men who didn't hang back with the woman, it was on to the cemetery. Like most other national burial grounds it is simple, modest, and pristine. With little trouble I found the final resting place of my friend. His marker was like everyone else’s; rank and file, stone white. I was comforted knowing that Billy fit right in this final formation of prestige and true sacrifice. I sat for a moment and remembered him. I am not a rule breaker but for one moment I had the good intention of lighting up my new pipe right there and then in honor of Billy. I wish I could have. All the same my Ascorti and Billy are forever bound.
Maybe some of you made it down this far. If you did please know it really means a lot to me. I recently posted, “Pipe smoking is a lot of things one of them being a celebration of sentiment.” I believe it whole heatedly. Perhaps it is true that most of us own a meaningless pipe. I would venture a greater truth is that there isn't one of us who’s without a pipe that means a lot. j/B
As of now my best pipe buying story involves my journey toward purchasing my second pipe. I currently live in Panama City, Florida and had purchased my first pipe at a local B&M. Their selection was very small however and I wanted more to choose from. A quick search on my iPhone found another shop that claimed to have an "extensive collection of briar tobacco pipes" but it happened to be 40 miles west. With nothing to do on a Sunday and driving my brand new car, a road trip sounded nice
The second B&M was a total bust. In fact it was a headshop. I asked the guy if he had any briar tobacco pipes and he pointed at one of his showcases full of glass blown "tobacco" pipes which I had already looked at. I went back to check just in case I missed something. Nope. I asked if he knew what briar was. Nope.
I searched the iPhone again and this time I was close enough to a Tinder Box for the search engine to pull it up. Of course it was in Pensacola another 50 miles west. Already invested I got behind the wheel and drove westward. Pensacola has an important place in my heart, that being the home of Naval Air Station Pensacola, where much of my Air Force career began. 13 years ago as an E-1 I was stationed at the NAS for technical training learning how to do my job. I found myself back at the old Cordova Mall, the same place us older teens had once flocked to while on base leave. The same place where we would take dates we weren't supposed to have and hopelessly clinging to a life lived before putting on the uniform, somewhat ignorant that we could never go back. I picked out a wonderful Ascorti 1998 Christmas pipe, 3 of 98, with original box and sock. The gentleman behind the counter (whose name I wish I remembered) was incredibly kind with his demeanor, time, and knowledge. I spent an hour with him. He gifted me my first Czech tool and shared with me how he packed a pipe. I was still very new to briar and this experience had a large impact on my opinion of the pipe smoking community.
Pensacola has another important place in my heart. It is the final resting place of a friend and fellow serviceman, Billy Wheeler. While serving in Alaska I had the opportunity to be stationed with Billy. He was a simple guy. Where he lacked in book smarts and sophistication, his heart and consideration for others made up for this in spades. He forced me to try Heinz 57 sauce, and while I begrudged it at the time, he was so proud of himself. Sadly, while helping remove a canopy from an F-15 cockpit, Billy took one too many steps backwards and fell from the top of the aircraft. He suffered head trauma and, with his wife and child at his side, was taken off life support on April 13, 2005. He was 24. Billy was laid to rest at NAS Pensacola home of Barrancas National Cemetery; closer to family and where, on Memorial Day three years prior, he placed U.S. flags on graves close to where he is now buried.
After wrapping things up at Tinder Box and finding myself in Pensacola for the first time since Billy’s passing, I knew where my next stop had to be. While walking out of the mall I saw a familiar sight; young, fit gentlemen with military haircuts waiting at the bus stop. I know all too well about their vehicle-less plight because I was once in their shoes at the exact same bus stop. I walked up to them, introduced myself, and showed them my military ID. I asked if they were headed to the NAS and if they wanted a ride. Sure enough they were and before I knew it my car was carrying four U.S. Marines.
On the way to base we hit some uncharacteristically dense traffic. Up ahead we saw a young black bull terrier playing in the middle of the street. Not really all that surprising two of the passengers wanted to do something to help. They asked if I’d be willing to wait while they “save the dog.” God bless the Marines. I was happy to oblige their request. They went up to the dog who joyfully welcomed his new playmates. In the middle of a six lane roadway, all three dog-tagged individuals (two marines, one k-9) chased each other while stopped traffic rubbernecked. The fact that the guys couldn’t help but laugh didn’t aid their cause. After a half minute of this they got serious and collared the collared dog. As they brought the dog over to the sidewalk another car pulled over and out popped a woman; a beautiful woman at that. Perhaps ten years older than the guys were but not at all too old to eliminate possibilities. I’ll never know exactly what was said between the two guys and the lovely lady but within minutes they came back up to my window and told me that they were going to “help her by holding her dog while she drove home.” From there she would return them (presumably no worse for wear) to the base. God bless the Marines.
After dropping the two young men who didn't hang back with the woman, it was on to the cemetery. Like most other national burial grounds it is simple, modest, and pristine. With little trouble I found the final resting place of my friend. His marker was like everyone else’s; rank and file, stone white. I was comforted knowing that Billy fit right in this final formation of prestige and true sacrifice. I sat for a moment and remembered him. I am not a rule breaker but for one moment I had the good intention of lighting up my new pipe right there and then in honor of Billy. I wish I could have. All the same my Ascorti and Billy are forever bound.
Maybe some of you made it down this far. If you did please know it really means a lot to me. I recently posted, “Pipe smoking is a lot of things one of them being a celebration of sentiment.” I believe it whole heatedly. Perhaps it is true that most of us own a meaningless pipe. I would venture a greater truth is that there isn't one of us who’s without a pipe that means a lot. j/B
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