Fancy-Schmancy!
No sense in buyin' a Benz when all ya need is a lift to work
Some thoughts from a casual Internet pipe dealer
by Kendal (Frenchy) Franceschi
I am, by no stretch of the imagination, a pipe expert. Hell, I ain't even an expert-in-waitin' if ya know what I mean. I wouldn't know a hunka Grecian briar from a slice of pizza. Mattera fact, the Grecian briar might taste like a slice of pizza for all I know. What I find really interestin' is how many people of the pipester persuasion actually do know what the difference is between one briar an' another. Or at least, they think they do. I'm a tad suspicious of those people, to tell ya the honest-to-God truth. It's like wine connoisseurs:
"This Châteauneuf du Pape is corky. Away with it, insolent Wine Stewart (an' how do they know the wine guy's name is Stewart anyhow?). Bring some breads to cleanse my offended palate!"
Geez, chug-a-lug a bottle of Ripple, hoss, an' relax fer gosh' sake, it's fermented grape juice. Listen, a crummy bottle of wine ain't gonna end the world as we know it, Mojambo.
Same way with pipes. Some pipe lovers take this stuff r-e-e-eally serious, pal:
"Yesss, and precisely where is the draft hole located, may I inquire?" they sniff.
"Uh, right there at the bottom of the bowl thingie. Y'know, underneath where ya'd put the tobacco? Ain't that where they all are?" I whine.
"Yes, yes, but is it centered at precisely 9 centimeters from the chamber to the beginning of the shank?"
"Huh? What the hell're ya talkin' about?"
"...and, when using a caliper, what is the exact measurement between the graining and inner wood, and what is the rate of smoke released by the intake manifold in proportion to the Johnson rod?"
"Huh? Hey, I measure my pipes with a red plastic ruler, so I don't think..."
"Is the nomenclature stamped with the patent number and are there any dashes or exclamation points visible when looking down the shank sideways with a loupe, or does one need to read the nomenclature in the usual way - i.e., standing barefoot on the kitchen floor while doing the Macarena and spinning the cat around in a clockwise manner? Must I be squinting in the direction of London and chanting 'Alfred, Alfred' in order to..."
"Whoa, e-e-e-easy big fella. These are only pipes, fer Chris'sake. Hunks a wood widda hole in 'em."
Yeah buddy, lotsa pipe guys, male and female, don't find nothin' funny about them pipes. 'Specially English pipes. Mama mia, does that subject ever get 'em stirred up. Look, I have no clue what alla them numbers on Dunhills mean. Not the foggiest notion. OK, I do know that one of the numbers has to do with size but, jumpin' Upshalls, which number an' the size of what? The tobacco chamber? I never even knew until recently it was called that. I simply thought it was the inside of the freakin' bowl. Is it the size or the capacity? An' is there a difference? Is it number 6 in length, width an' depth, whatever the hell that might mean; or is size 6 the capacity of the bowl?
My pipes ain't got no capacity other than bein' pipes that I stick tobacco in until they're fulla tobacco. Then I fire 'em up and puff. Geez. I think the American Indians jammed some tobacco in a hole in the ground, stuck their kisser in it an' sucked. That's gotta be the cheapest pipe ever created an' it worked perfect. Prob'ly never got tongue-bite, neither. Nah, I'm a peasant, I guess. But it seems to me that most of the pipe-smokin' population is more peasantlike than snooty, goody-two-pipes types.
Ain't the vast majority smokin' Captain Black in a Dr. Grabow? They usually got a collection of two briars an' a cob, which they never clean, ever, an' a three-pipe rack. After they've smoked them babies to a fare-thee-well, their heirs sell the remains of what used to at least resemble pipes on eBay (to me, usually). The bits look to have been chewed on by really hungry squirrels an' the cake is so thick on 'em ya gotta blast it off with a nuclear weapon.
So, are they lesser pipesters just 'cause they never had nothin' made in England in their kissers but kidney pie (yuck)? Nay, say I! They are the backbone of the pipe people (sounds like aliens from the planet Pipus). So what's wrong with smokin' Sir Walter Raleigh? Huh? I ask ya? Nothin' wrong with it, 'cept it don't taste anywhere near as good as Nightcap. 'An what's the big deal with la-di-da English pipes? Are they any better'n a good 'ol Medico? I'm sayin' a big fat no, bubba! Them cheesy pipes are every bit as good as any doggone English pipe ya ever stuck in yer kisser - 'cept the English pipes, um, taste, uh, better.
So what am I sayin'?
I...I'm not really sure anymore. I suppose if ya got the do-re-mi ya ought ta go for the best freakin' pipe ya can, 'cause it'll taste good...or not. It just ain't that easy, is it? I stay right around the midrange myself.
Now, by "midrange" I mean nothin' over a hundred bucks. When ya get up there over that, ya gotta worry about not hurtin' the pipe. Ya know, ya don't wanna drop a $300 pipe in the paint yer usin' to paint the walls in the family room. I figure it'll hurt like a sonofabitch to lose a $100 Stanwell, but I'd get over it someday; if a $500 Dunhill fell in a can a'paint, it'd make me suicidal. I'd be forced to take my exasperations out on my dog, Norman. An' poor 'ol Norman, in between my maniacal ravings, would be tryin' to figure out why in the name of Rin Tin Tin I was smokin' a powder-blue Rhodesian and why the smoke was comin' outta my ears insteada my pie hole.
So, for me, nothin' too pricey. I'd be scared a'breakin' it. And, conversely, nothin' so cheap it'd taste like plastic when ya smoked it. Ya just gotta find that zone where ya like it enough to smoke it but not enough to be lookin' for tall buildins to leap off if ya broke it.
High ends? Eh, who needs 'em when they're nice low-end pipes around fer practically nothin' an' they smoke just fine. Although, I won an auction on eBay once 'an the pipe that came was made outta some kinda material I'd never seen a pipe made out of before.
Is briar supposed to melt?