Most fond memories are nothing more than fleeting glimpses of the halcyon days of yore. Some do stand out clearly, as my memory of watching my father shave when I was a kid. He'd say "feel that", and I'd rub his cheek before he'd slap on some godawful aftershave.
Years later, when I started shaving, I noticed that my cheeks never felt nearly as smooth as did dad's, despite the advantage of having technologically superior tools at my disposal. Why, he didn't even have an electric, for God's sake.
I spent a helluva lot of time trying to figure out how he did it, and eventually concluded that perhaps my face just was not meant to acheive such results from shaving.
Now, of course, the answer is obvious. This hobby has not only given me a lot of pleasure, it has answered a decades old question. Dad had a super speed.
Years later, when I started shaving, I noticed that my cheeks never felt nearly as smooth as did dad's, despite the advantage of having technologically superior tools at my disposal. Why, he didn't even have an electric, for God's sake.
I spent a helluva lot of time trying to figure out how he did it, and eventually concluded that perhaps my face just was not meant to acheive such results from shaving.
Now, of course, the answer is obvious. This hobby has not only given me a lot of pleasure, it has answered a decades old question. Dad had a super speed.