.

Today I brought my little guy with me to the Y and let him play in the daycare facility while I worked out. He had a doctor's appointment in exactly one hour, so dawdling was out, as was pausing for a sip of water at the water fountain before or after the workout ("You can have a sip of water when you're DEAD!" I heard my high school coach Mr. Ditolla who's probably now a greeter at a Walmart and still underqualified screaming) (Look, the guy took my JVC boombox from the locker room and kept it -- took it home and treated it evermore as his own -- just because I was playing Zeppelin on it after practice and he decided it was too loud for a locker room full of high school boys yelling at the top of their lungs to "Living Loving Maid") (You know, I thought I'd gotten over it, but then all this came pouring out) (You're an APE, Ditolla! What aisle are BOOMBOXES in, old man?) (OK now I'm over it).

Nor would I allow myself any time in the weight room at all, or the hair drying stage of my post-workout groomdown, or pretty much any leisurely approach to any part of the task at hand, which was to produce enough sweat to get a great shave. Man-breasts be damned -- I'm at peace with why I really come here, and no longer make any bones about it.

I do it for the shave.

Hard deadline looming, I hit the climbing machine and hit it hard, jammed the controls all the way up and pumped like a crazy idiot till the sweat was stinging my eyes and marinating my whiskers. Sweet, sweet marinade.

Ran down to the locker room, ran to the shower, ran around under the hot water, ran to the sink with my dop kit. I'd already injected a new Schick blade into my Injector, after the strangely ineffectual Feather blade experiment the day before, so I rushed through the unscrew cap squeeze off link of taylor avocado shaving cream into left hand then beat wet brush around till lather forms then paint face part and then I was ready to shave like the Flash.

I really don't care for these quickie shaves, to be honest. For starters, they remind me of how I used to shave during the decades+ that I was a jackass when it came to this stuff -- slashing a raspy disposable willy-nilly around my face, gashing it up pretty good, leaving it red and rawhidey everywhere, then stinging the bejesus out of myself with some alcohol-heavy Old Spice right on the fresh bloody skin.

But the main reason I don't enjoy these quickie shaves is that the shave is never that good when I rush it. Best-case it can be decent and presentable and all that, and it certainly looks better than if I didn't shave. But even with a foolproof razor like my trusty Merkur HD, my quickie shaves never reach that exalted, baby's butt smooth level where I fondle my face for the rest of the day and walk around whistling the Old Spice theme.

So it was with no small amount of resignation that I caught a quickie shave today with my Injector. Anything else and I would've taken my time, but if Promise Keepers says my little guy's doctor's appointment is more important than getting a perfect shave, then by gum, a mediocre rush-job it would be.

Swipe down relather swipe up and rinse. Apply Trumper Skin Food and --

What the?! I got a good shave! A damned good shave, in fact, in a little over a minute. This Injector is amazing. I used to haul ass with a Mach3, but my shaves never came within shouting distance of what I was able to get today, and I'd have nicks all over my face and neck besides.

I'm not saying I want to shave like this every day, or frankly, any day I don't absolutely have to. As pleasure-lite as a normal Injector shave can be, using it for a quickie shave very nearly reduces the fun count to zero.

That's the thing with the Injector. It's a razor for shavers, not shavegeeks. It does the job it's supposed to do and does it well, but there's something kind of joyless about the shave. It's efficient and easy and you don't really have to focus on what you're doing nearly to the degree you do with a DE or especially a straight razor, so you don't. The Injector shaves like a dream, but I can't help but feel that something important is missing from the experience I've come to look forward to ever since I discovered old-school wetshaving.

Maybe that's a good thing. In more lucid moments, I question whether men are supposed to get all hopped-up over the act of shaving facial hair. I shudder to think what Lee Marvin would think if he saw me dreamily whisking a Merkur over my chin, smiling a faraway smile and inhaling deeply that sweet Trumper's violet aroma. At the very least, I'd get kicked out of the SOLM.

At the very least, it's good to know I can haul ass with this Injector and still get a good shave. It's a credit to the razor and its no-nonsense WWII-era design. But is this how I really want to shave for the rest of my life? I went from mediocre, joyless shaves with the Mach3 to excellent, joyous shaves with the DE to excellent, joyless shaves with the Injector. This is a razor that was never meant to set shavegeeks' hearts a' flutter. Bottom line is, it's not as much fun as a DE, even though it can shave as well or better.

I began mulling on the drive to the doctor's, and the mull continues.