I own too many pipes, maybe.
This evening I drove to get some fish at a little drive in that has a big fish fry every Friday smoking my latest Lee, and arriving home in a door pocket of my car I spied my little Peterson. I’d wondered where it was, and now the misplaced is found.
Just like Christmas the day after Groundhog Day, you know?
Then I remembered last summer leaving my camper at the farm smoking it, and I must have put in in the door pocket.
I’ve just fired it up, and to my horror, the thing is cracked. One place pretty bad, and two more won’t get any better.
I examined it closer and the letters are nearly rubbed off, then I remembered buying it new over thirty years ago on sale, and it arrived as varnished as any Medico ever sold at Katz Drug Store for two dollars. I’d stripped it myself, and vowed to never strip another Peterson. I remember too, it was a hot smoker even after I stripped it.
Then it’s spent about thirty summers in broiling heat in the summer, and frigid cold in the winter in my milk barn and later on my camper, and last summer I hauled it back home.
It has cured out. It’s a wonderful smoker now, and rather pretty if I don’t look too close.
The only thing I guess to do is haul it back to the farm this spring,
It would make a nice glove box pipe for my Yamaha Rhino, to smoke in Spout Spring Hollow.
I’d not have to explain to anyone why I smoked a cracked Peterson in those woods.
This evening I drove to get some fish at a little drive in that has a big fish fry every Friday smoking my latest Lee, and arriving home in a door pocket of my car I spied my little Peterson. I’d wondered where it was, and now the misplaced is found.
Just like Christmas the day after Groundhog Day, you know?
Then I remembered last summer leaving my camper at the farm smoking it, and I must have put in in the door pocket.
I’ve just fired it up, and to my horror, the thing is cracked. One place pretty bad, and two more won’t get any better.
I examined it closer and the letters are nearly rubbed off, then I remembered buying it new over thirty years ago on sale, and it arrived as varnished as any Medico ever sold at Katz Drug Store for two dollars. I’d stripped it myself, and vowed to never strip another Peterson. I remember too, it was a hot smoker even after I stripped it.
Then it’s spent about thirty summers in broiling heat in the summer, and frigid cold in the winter in my milk barn and later on my camper, and last summer I hauled it back home.
It has cured out. It’s a wonderful smoker now, and rather pretty if I don’t look too close.
The only thing I guess to do is haul it back to the farm this spring,
It would make a nice glove box pipe for my Yamaha Rhino, to smoke in Spout Spring Hollow.
I’d not have to explain to anyone why I smoked a cracked Peterson in those woods.
