French got me started on cigarettes.
He'd always have packs of various little mini-cigars (Colts). We'd spark these at parties. And he used to sell American cigarettes out back of the school (Marlboros). Also, his dad hand cranked his own cigarettes with a little rolling machine. His dad would crank them and say: "I'm getting my exercise". Somedays we'd smoke those.
In gym class we had to do this run called "the run". It was a 4 mile course up a dirt road. We would run down the road to the train tracks, that were up the top of a hill, and then turn around and head back to school. Somedays we'd take the whole period to get it done. Other days the gym teacher would ride behind us in his Chevy Bronco and yell and honk at us; on those days we'd actually run.
French held the school records for "the run". French would put on his beat up Chuck Taylors, run to the tracks, smoke a dart, and then run past us heading back the other way laughing like a maniac. Every year, on the day of "the run", we'd see him at the top of the hill blowing smoke rings waiting for us to catch up. This convinced me that smoking was okay.
I quit cold turkey 15 years ago, but every once in a while I'll crave one those bitter American Cigs that French prefers.
He'd always have packs of various little mini-cigars (Colts). We'd spark these at parties. And he used to sell American cigarettes out back of the school (Marlboros). Also, his dad hand cranked his own cigarettes with a little rolling machine. His dad would crank them and say: "I'm getting my exercise". Somedays we'd smoke those.
In gym class we had to do this run called "the run". It was a 4 mile course up a dirt road. We would run down the road to the train tracks, that were up the top of a hill, and then turn around and head back to school. Somedays we'd take the whole period to get it done. Other days the gym teacher would ride behind us in his Chevy Bronco and yell and honk at us; on those days we'd actually run.
French held the school records for "the run". French would put on his beat up Chuck Taylors, run to the tracks, smoke a dart, and then run past us heading back the other way laughing like a maniac. Every year, on the day of "the run", we'd see him at the top of the hill blowing smoke rings waiting for us to catch up. This convinced me that smoking was okay.
I quit cold turkey 15 years ago, but every once in a while I'll crave one those bitter American Cigs that French prefers.
4 comments:
my high school gym classes had a daily run like that -- there were ways we could cheat, though, like cutting through the school and miraculously appearing at the finish point -- the gym teacher used to time us every day, and read out the individual results to the whole class -- sadistic bastard
Ollie, of all your excellent posts, this has to rank as one of the best. "Loneliness of The Long Distance Cigarette". Good stuff.
nice one, ollie. thanks for comin last night.
They used to taste great - they still do.
hp
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