First let me start off by saying that a cigarette has never touched my lips. I have never nor will I ever have one touch my lips.

In 1994, I was sitting in my patrol car chatting with a buddy when he whipped out some robusto thing, and fired it up. I razzed him at first. But then realized I liked the smell. I also liked the look. In an age of new political correctness and left leaning people in power, the anti-smoking crowd was closing in on freedom and doing away with personal responsibility. So, in my head, a nice robusto hanging out of my mouth while I rolled down the street in my patrol car was a throwback to the days when people actually had respect for police and when police could do their jobs without fear of the ACLU stepping in to second guess everything you did. In my head, I was a crusty old salty dog. When I wasn't actually smoking one, I had it all chewed up hanging out my mouth. I had a great shop on my beat that was very very cop friendly, so I was in there three times a week.

These days I'm a much more sedate smoker. I enjoy just taking an hour and a half, enjoying a nice fat torpedo and single malt and decompressing.