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One of my fondest memories from high school days was one afternoon when an old friend showed up on my parents doorstep, and asked, "You want some food?" Yeah, I answered, I could eat. "Philly cheese steaks sound good?" he followed. I answered affirmative again. Then, on our intuitive agreement, with no further questions asked, we proceeded to drive to Philadelphia. There we had no trouble finding the right sort of eating establishment, but the food was just a pretext.
We didn't drive fifty-five miles to nourish a physical appetite, but one intangible; our shared desire to do as we pleased. For both that old friend and I back then, driving was our major outlet for that. We went where we pleased, for reasons that were our reasons, and needed no explanation.
In the words of Gale Snoats, I love to drive. The automobile is a vehicle of independence, and those of a certain, inconsiderate mindset have more often than not understood this, seeking to limit or outright control access to them. Let a man or woman get themselves an automobile and all of a sudden you have someone who can go where they want, as far as they want, and in the direction they want, whenever he or she chooses. If you want to keep people in their place, or what you see as their place, it's far more suitable to keep as many of them as you can tethered to train schedules, or pedaling bicycles, or on foot.
Being born contrary and stubborn (so mother has implied), I learned early in life a great appreciation for the simple act of driving, and of being able to drive. I couldn't tell you how many hours I spent in my late teens and early twenties just driving, no destination in mind, alone or with a friend of like mind, and often late into the night.
If you're contrary and stubborn, of course, and smoke a pipe, it only makes sense that when driving off to wherever you please, you'll do whatever else you please — like smoke a pipe. With liberty, however, one assumes responsibility; driving means being responsible for learning how to drive, and smoking a pipe behind the wheel means learning how to smoke a pipe behind the wheel.
First things come first, and the first thing here is the wheel. I don't answer the phone when I'm driving unless it's an emergency (don't ask how I know when it's an emergency), and even then I won't respond but with the fewest words until I've pulled over. Much the same, I've learned that a pipe should be treated like the radio - no more than the briefest fiddling with the controls unless you're stopped, and even then, if it's at a light or intersection, keep one eye ahead. Between pipe and automobile, the latter is the focus, the former is merely an accompaniment, just like music.
A lot of people these days listen to books — getting in "reading," of a sort, during commutes and the like. I can't do it. Too much division of concentration. Just the same, while others may be able to manage a proper enjoyment of Old Dark Fired or a Latakia-heavy English even just as background music, I've learned I get a lot more out of something less complex, like a mix of Kendal shags or some Three Nuns. Music tobaccos, as it were; sure you'd get the most out of them sitting still with your eyes closed and headphones on, but they'll nonetheless provide a particular flavor of enjoyment even just playing in the background. Atmosphere, ambiance, that sort of thing.
Speaking of which, another reason why you shouldn't smoke Latakia and other such blends in your car, is so that if you give someone a ride, they aren't left wondering why the interior smells like someone set fire to a dog. All the little pine trees hanging from rear-view mirrors across the world aren't going to hold the line against a bowl of Ten Russians.
Pipes? Well, light should be a given, and bent all the better. Just like the wheel gets first dibs on your focus, it also gets first claim to your hands — which means a pipe that's as easy as you can find to clench. I'd further note that I've found more favorable a chamber that's deeper over one that's broad, as the first type is much neater at keeping ashes, and embers, contained, especially if you take to packing it with a bit less than a full bowl. A wind-cap, of course, is also a good option, especially during weather where you'll have the windows down.
As for finishes, sandblasted or rusticated is the way. The extra texture, I suppose, some would argue makes them a little surer when they are in hand, but my concern is this: What to do with the pipe, especially when it's still lit, if you need to take it out of your mouth, but can't keep it in your hands either? My answer is stick it in the ashtray (my car actually has an ashtray), and that ashtray and the sliding mount it's on are metal — which is why I'll put a still-burning pipe there. Safety first, preserving finishes a distant second, and if it's got beautifully contrasted birdseye and flame grain, best to save it for another time and place.
Keep the prettiest smooth-polished prizes in your collection out of any such impromptu stowage, and they'll thank you. And you'll thank you too, for not leaving them looking like they'd been dragged through a scrap heap. And finally, since I've known some people who seem to have the same reaction to pretty grain as a thirteen year old boy does to a pretty girl (intermittent and blank-minded periods of paralysis, loss for words, and staring), the other drivers on the road may thank you too.
Most of them though will probably just look and point, and say to their friends something like, "Hey, check out at that weirdo smoking a pipe in his car! Off to explore Antarctica, grandpa?" or others, "Hey, check out at that guy smoking his pipe in his car... I want to be like him someday."
That's but part of going your own way.
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Comments
Eric -- my low maint choose would be a humble bent cob and Prince Albert. If you haven't already read 'em, I recommend Steinbeck's Travels With Charley and Wm Least Heat Moon's Blue Highways.
Back in the day I was known as 'Road Warrior' for my ability to hop in my car or truck and drive for hours. That was when I could fire up a bowl of good ol' Lane's RLP-6 and go through a stack of Jazz CD's while driving. At some point I was no longer allowed to smoke in the car and the wife wanted to listen to 70's rock. And she wonders why we no longer go anywhere.
Thanks for the thoughts, Eric. I love smoking while driving, running errands and taking the long way around to enjoy the solitary time and sheer freedom. I have a feeling that it's illegal to smoke and drive in England - I'm English - but the police who occasionally pull up alongside never ask about and I return the compliment. I don't think either of us really wants that conversation. I have a number of small, light, bent and blasted pipes that are ideal for a bowl of VaPer while we go and the pleasure is all mine. Simple and yet deeply satisfying. Long may it continue.
Kevin - Thanks for the reading recommendations. I used to keep an Old Dominion cob the car, but switched back to bent briars after deciding a long, straight reed probably wasn't the best thing to keep clenched between the teeth while driving. (A bad accident when I was eighteen taught respect for the momentum generated by moving automobiles - by sheer, dumb fortune everyone walked away intact.)
Ron - Much the same for me back when I worked in the outside broadcasting industry. Especially when I managed to snag the keys to a particular old Suburban - the most battered and abused vehicle in the company fleet, but also the one with a 454 under the hood.
Andy - Though his passion was sailing rather than driving, Bernard Moitessier may have had the right idea when he decided to skip the finish line of the Golden Globe Race in 1968... just so that he could keep on sailing alone. I've heard grumblings about such laws in Britain as well as in certain states here in the US. Here's to police who exercise discretion in their priorities.
A sunny day, back roads, good music, good pipe and favorite tobacco wow it just does not get much better than that! Thanks for the article, it made me remember my last drive and relax a bit on a hectic day.
I love your thoughts on the "ramble". I did a lot of driving like that during my high school and young adult years. Freedom! We must allow it to be lost.