My "smoking career" began and ended all in one day, pretty much, when I was somewhere around 12. My younger sister RIP and I found an unopened pack of Camels out in the garage, which my Dad smoked, at the time. What we did NOT know is that these were about 10 or 14 years old at the time, as they were something like (I forgot) the last pack my Dad had before getting out of the US Army after WWII. They were a keepsake.
We did like in all the movies, went down behind the barn, were lucky NOT to set the hayfields on fire, and got sick as dogs. Mom of course "smelled us" and we got a spanking from her, and a "better" one when Dad came home.
THAT, as they say, was the end of THAT!!!
On a side note, thanks to my surviving sister, and some renters, the condition of the house, and that garage, are "less" than one might have hoped.
On yet another note, I did retrieve the old "post" drill press...............
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