When I was growing up I had a good friend who had the typical nuclear family. They had all the cool stuff too, not sure if anyone here remembers laser disc players, but yeah, they had one of those.
His dad was an editor for a well known movie company, and drove a Volvo wagon with rear facing seats that we were tasked to sit in, and it was our duty to entertain our fellow motorists at every stop light, sign, or while sitting in traffic, the area we lived in had copious opportunities which allowed us to fulfill this obligation.
His dad also smoked a pipe, privately of course, and only in the workshop or away from us, lest he set an example to his wards unbecoming of a scout leader. But we would get whiffs of it, either when he returned from his shop, or before he said his goodnites during camping trips or sleepovers.
I remember the first time we smoked that pipe, we went off into the shop and my friend climbed up on the workbench, one of those types with built in clamps, and reached to the highest shelf bringing down his fathers pipe and with it an orange and blue tin, we popped it open, greeted with a homely scent, and proceed to hastily pack and puff and cough away. With our heads spinning and the glee of what we had done, going back into the house, we returned to a waiting side eye from his mom.
She never asked us where we had been, and we never smoked that pipe again, but from that moment on I knew I would smoke a pipe someday, just like his father had.