Ramblings
A Simple Cleanup
There’s a quiet kind of satisfaction that comes from puttering around the workshop on a Saturday afternoon...the hum of the old fluorescent light overhead, the smell of oil and sawdust, and the company of tools that have earned their keep. Amid all that, one of my occasional little rituals is giving my old Zippo lighter a bit of attention. Nothing fancy, just a clean-up and a refill - but somehow, it feels like time well spent. Let's get into it!
A Little History
The Zippo lighter first sparked to life back in 1933, when George G. Blaisdell of Bradford, Pennsylvania, decided to build a lighter that could be used with one hand and stay lit in the wind. The design stuck, and the name “Zippo” became as iconic as the soft metallic click of its lid. Soldiers carried them through war zones, mechanics kept them in their shirt pockets, and musicians flipped them open under the stage lights. That sound - sharp, clean, and unmistakable - has been echoing through the decades ever since.
My "Bucks" Zippo
My Zippo’s been with me for years. As a matter of fact, I got it with Marlboro points (we'll talk about that in a minute) and I already had it coming into the 21st century. So it's been awhile, and I always find a sense of comfort in that.
If you were cool, you had a Zippo with a quote on it. -John Stryker Meyer
When I refuel mine (which hasn't been often), I keep it simple. A can of Zipp Lighter Fluid on the bench, a few spare flints, and maybe a new wick if it’s been a while. Pull the insert out of the case, lift the little felt pad that says “Lift to Fill,” and pour just enough to dampen the cotton inside. That first whiff of lighter fluid; cool, chemical, and oddly nostalgic; fills the air. It always takes me back to watching my father top off his lighter at the kitchen table, steady hands and a calm smile. Once it’s filled, a quick wipe, a flick of the wheel, and there’s that steady orange-yellow flame...a tiny bit of history burning bright.
When I set it back down, I can’t help but drift into memories of other old-time rituals - the small, everyday things that felt special because they took just a touch of care.
The Marlboro Miles Years
If you were around in the ’90s, you probably remember that bit of Americana that had its own kind of charm: Marlboro Miles. The program kicked off around 1992, back when cigarette packs came with a little coupon inside that you could clip out, save up, and trade for Marlboro-branded gear. It was a loyalty program, sure, but it felt more like a game, the kind that had people cutting and counting like kids collecting baseball cards.
The Marlboro Gear catalog was a sight to see. Thick pages full of red and black, all rugged landscapes and cowboy grit. Flip through, and you’d find baseball caps, mugs, jackets, coolers, tents, watches, and even bicycles and canoes, all stamped with that familiar red chevron. Folks would sit at the kitchen table with a pile of coupons and a pen, circling the things they had their eye on, dreaming about what their next mail-in order might bring.
By the early 2000s, the program faded out, a quiet ending to a surprisingly long run. But the memories linger. Every now and then, I’ll spot an old Marlboro duffel bag or camp chair at a yard sale, and it’ll stop me in my tracks. It’s not really about the stuff, it’s about that sense of belonging to a simpler time when even a small reward could feel like striking gold.
Age... It's Just a Number (and a letter)
See the highlighted spots on this intentionally upside down shot? They're highlighting manufacture dates. Notice the highlighted K and VII.
Well, turns out they're date codes, and of course - I looked it up!
So, based on their coding, my Zippo was made in June of 1991. Like I said earlier, I didn't remember exactly when I got it but...It's been around awhile!
Simple Pleasures, Lasting Sparks
There’s something to be said for the little things that ask for our time; a Zippo that needs refilling, a workbench that needs tidying, or an old catalog that reminds us how things used to be. These small rituals have a way of slowing life down just enough for us to notice the moment; the smell of lighter fluid, the creak of a stool, the flicker of a steady flame.
In a world that moves fast and forgets even faster, I find comfort in tending to these quiet, hands-on traditions. They don’t ask for much, just a few minutes, a steady hand, and a bit of appreciation. But in return, they give back something rare: a sense of connection, of continuity, of peace. Whether it’s the click of a Zippo or the memory of saving up Marlboro Miles for a prize that never quite mattered, it all comes back to the same truth...the joy isn’t in the thing itself, but in the care we give it.
So here’s to the small stuff - the smell of the shop, the hum of a light, and the simple pleasure of keeping an old flame alive.
Hey, thanks for stopping by - see ya' next time!
