Long ago, I was in a bike accident. Came out of it with a little road rash, but my favorite little amber-stemmed meerschaum pipe was smashed. I picked up a cheap clay cutty to tide me over til I found a replacement:then I never did replace it. It became my go-to pipe, my traveling pipe, my hunting pipe. It traveled the world with me. It became the pipe I reach for when planning changes, mourning losses, remembering the good times--and bad. How it survived as long as it did, wrapped in a goatskin rollup or just dropped in a pocket, is a mystery to me. But all things come to an end, and after more than 30 years the stem has finally broken too short to be used. Before I begin the search for an estate pipe to replace my little meerschaum of so long ago, I wanted to acknowledge my old cutty.