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Ah, the smell of 66.4 grains of H4350, That pungent smell of burning Jet-A or JP-5 and hot turbines screaming over head, the slight sent of Aero shell gear oil, and CLP, and old grease. The complex smells of fire, and burning things that shift through the air and that ever present musty, dead smelling Moon Dust!
Man, you KNOW your alive with those smells all around you!
 
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HoppesAir.jpg
Discontinued I believe but still available. Best part, to refresh, just drop some more Hoppe's on it!
A must for the Man Cave.
 
I love the smell of burnt powder in the fresh air.
My favorite all time smell is a just opened steel ammo can. The sweet smell of ammo mixed with a little touch of gun oil is intoxicating.
It brings me back 50+ years when my dad would open them.
My dad is not with me anymore, but I do still have those same 50mm cans.
Camo
 
Hoppe's #9 is forever associated in my brain with guns, but my favorite smell is only tangentially related to guns. The air of light motor oil and sawdust instantly transports me to childhood, hanging around the shop with both my grandads and uncles listening to 'man talk' about trucks, tools, guns, hunting, fishing, camping, life on the farm during the depression, etc. Those old memories are even more dear to me now at 69. I'm glad I can recreate some of them for my own grandkids.
 
Kidding aside, there's a cult like interest in 'essential oil/aroma therapy' sales with pyramid sales schemes hotterin a $3.00 pistol going on, because old P.T.B. was right.

Step right up, we gotcher youthful rejuventor essential oils that'll cure cancer, gout, insanity, and the heartbreak of unstoppable masterbatin...yep, we got it all...you sir, 12 bottles you say and you ma'am, 13?

Step right up...(suckers, hee, hee)
 
You Racist! It's Native American Aborigines and Herdspeople!

I may have told this story before, but it's worth a retell ...

Early to mid 90's I drove to Pendleton with Jim Wolfe, my counterpart at the Bureau of Indian Affairs, for their yearly lands and realty conference. Aside from two bankers that made a presentation, I was the only non-tribal person in attendance. I asked him whether I should address the group as Native Americans and he just looked at me like I had two heads. Jim: did you see the banner outside? Me: the one that said welcome to Indian Country? Jim: yeah, that one.:rolleyes:

During an afternoon break, as Jim and I were sharing observations, I noticed two guys at another nearby table had shifted from English to their tribal language. I asked Jim under my breath whether I should leave, thinking my presence had been their motivation. Jim just looked at me and said with a smile, 'I'm Kiowa, they're Cayuse, and I have no idea what they're talking about.:s0112:
 
I may have told this story before, but it's worth a retell ...

Early to mid 90's I drove to Pendleton with Jim Wolfe, my counterpart at the Bureau of Indian Affairs, for their yearly lands and realty conference. Aside from two bankers that made a presentation, I was the only non-tribal person in attendance. I asked him whether I should address the group as Native Americans and he just looked at me like I had two heads. Jim: did you see the banner outside? Me: the one that said welcome to Indian Country? Jim: yeah, that one.:rolleyes:

During an afternoon break, as Jim and I were sharing observations, I noticed two guys at another nearby table had shifted from English to their tribal language. I asked Jim under my breath whether I should leave, thinking my presence had been their motivation. Jim just looked at me and said with a smile, 'I'm Kiowa, they're Cayuse, and I have no idea what they're talking about.:s0112:
I lived in Montana for many years and had an Indian welder that I supervised. He invited me to the Crow Fair on the Res. I had a great time. Alcoholism is the bane of those people.
 
I have always loved the smell of combusted 10% nitro fuel from RC airplane engines. Also, spent rimfire brass, oil refineries and bubbly asphalt tar...

Oh, and leaded high octane fuel, both fresh and combusted, campfire smoke and whatever my ex used to wear when she wanted an expensive present.;)

-edit- I forgot to mention onions (or anything really) fried in butter.
 
Used to spend a lot of time in Detroit downwind of the Canadian Club distillery, across the river in Windsor. Mash cooking is a terrible smell to some, wonderful to me.
Another is the leather and sulphur oil (trans fluid) coming off my old MGs.
My all time favorite is 'tang -- the wetter the better.
 
I can't pinpoint any particular smell that I'm fond of. However, I can immediately think of one that I don't like. The smell of coated bullets being fired.
 

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