Imagine you're a lonely traveller in the snowy Wyoming hills one cold night. It was the year 1899.
For 5 days I've trekked across these unforgiving lands, lodging to lodging, from cabin to cabin. It has been tough with the cold biting into my aging joints, the snow making eatch step a bothersome ordeal.
The horse and I've been hurrying these past hours, we are only a days trip away from mommas house, but the light is escaping and the cold is biting me more every minute. The funeral is at noon, and I can't be late, not for this.
But now it's almost completely dark, so I tried up the horse to a little tree here, the only one in a few hundred feet. The tent went up easily enough, and the last thing I've got to do is to light up my old pipe. Just a few minutes to relax before I'll sleep, and get in with tomorrow.
The last light is slowly being extinguished behind the ridge, and with the horse finally being relaxed. I pick up my trusty old pipe and fill it with my most favorite blend. A fine mixture of something called latakia and good old American virginia. It's always a good way to end the day.
Finally the pipe is lit, and I can enjoy myself. But, the only thing that I can manage to say, Oh Fuck No.
I left my tamper at the last cabin... The night is ruined.
________________________________
Now I see something out of place in this story, do you think he would be so destroyed over this?
I don't think so.
This is all a little rant regarding how a lot of people nowadays seem to imagine that a tamper is in any way a necessity. Which it isn't. This hardened old fellow wouldn't cry because his favorite blue tamper was lost so he couldn't smoke. He would just tamp the shit down with his calloused sausage fingers.
If someone managed to read through this, I am sorry and I hope you enjoyed it somehow. Does anyone share my thoughts?
For 5 days I've trekked across these unforgiving lands, lodging to lodging, from cabin to cabin. It has been tough with the cold biting into my aging joints, the snow making eatch step a bothersome ordeal.
The horse and I've been hurrying these past hours, we are only a days trip away from mommas house, but the light is escaping and the cold is biting me more every minute. The funeral is at noon, and I can't be late, not for this.
But now it's almost completely dark, so I tried up the horse to a little tree here, the only one in a few hundred feet. The tent went up easily enough, and the last thing I've got to do is to light up my old pipe. Just a few minutes to relax before I'll sleep, and get in with tomorrow.
The last light is slowly being extinguished behind the ridge, and with the horse finally being relaxed. I pick up my trusty old pipe and fill it with my most favorite blend. A fine mixture of something called latakia and good old American virginia. It's always a good way to end the day.
Finally the pipe is lit, and I can enjoy myself. But, the only thing that I can manage to say, Oh Fuck No.
I left my tamper at the last cabin... The night is ruined.
________________________________
Now I see something out of place in this story, do you think he would be so destroyed over this?
I don't think so.
This is all a little rant regarding how a lot of people nowadays seem to imagine that a tamper is in any way a necessity. Which it isn't. This hardened old fellow wouldn't cry because his favorite blue tamper was lost so he couldn't smoke. He would just tamp the shit down with his calloused sausage fingers.
If someone managed to read through this, I am sorry and I hope you enjoyed it somehow. Does anyone share my thoughts?