fyrstormer
Banned
It's been about five years since I bought my LS20, in the last wave of Piston-Drive Gizmos ever to crash on the shore. I don't remember the exact date, but I remember it was in July 2009. I was glued to my laptop, waiting for hours for the wave to be announced, because I was convinced that if I missed it by more than a few minutes, I wouldn't get one. My concerns were only somewhat exaggerated; I think the sale lasted a couple hours before they were all sold.
Four-hundred forty-seven dollars, plus shipping. It was a nearly-inconceivable amount of money to me at that time. When I think back and do a reality check, I remember I had already been paying for a house for at least a year by that time, but I'd never spent such a large chunk of money on something so small before -- the only thing that came close was a mountain bike that I'd paid $537 for in high school, using money I earned from bagging groceries. I suppose it's fair, then, to say my LS20 was my first luxury product.
Nowadays my LS20 doesn't get much use. An infinitely-variable control-ring light serves me better on a daily basis; in fact, I've had the same one for about 3 years now. I suppose it would be accurate to say my most enthusiastic involvement in the hobby spanned from 2009 to 2011 -- nowadays it's well-embedded into the fabric of my being, with the ever-advancing weave at the leading edge having moved on to depict other patterns. A lot of the time nowadays, my collection of flashlights is partially-obscured by a pile of spare RC car parts, waiting for me to get sick of them taking up space and sell them online.
But every now and then I pick up my LS20, and I really look at it like I used to, and I remember. I remember how excited I was when I got the email that I'd managed to buy one. I remember being embarrassed about how much I'd spent on it. (I still haven't told most people how much it really cost.) I remember taking it to work every day, kicking back at my desk between jobs, and just admiring it, twisting the head back and forth and feeling the threads rubbing together.
It looks like a simple light, because it isn't festooned with buttons and pointy bits and whatnot, but it's intricate. The raised ribs that run around the battery tube, to improve grip without the industrial look of knurling. The scallops on the sides of the head to improve grip for twisting. The subtle crenellations on the head bezel so light can peek out, to remind you to shut it off if you set it down head-down, without being sharp enough to tear up your pants. The tiny words etched onto the circuit board, indicating who they were made for and what purpose they serve. The kilroy switch and the shiny little solder beads where the wires connect. The complex reflector with its extra holes for the little floodlights surrounding the spotlight. The tint-matched LEDs. Only a few years later, I can already say "they don't make 'em like they used to", and in all fairness, it's hardly necessary -- but it sure is nice.
I remember when I figured out how I could modify my LS20 to have multiple brightness settings. I remember when I finally figured out how to make my own grease to keep the lipophobic titanium threads from grinding against each other until they felt like sandpaper. I remember when I had the spare time to make these products available to other people, so I could be a contributor instead of just a consumer.
It was a lot of fun. And it all started when I bought my LS20.
Four-hundred forty-seven dollars, plus shipping. It was a nearly-inconceivable amount of money to me at that time. When I think back and do a reality check, I remember I had already been paying for a house for at least a year by that time, but I'd never spent such a large chunk of money on something so small before -- the only thing that came close was a mountain bike that I'd paid $537 for in high school, using money I earned from bagging groceries. I suppose it's fair, then, to say my LS20 was my first luxury product.
Nowadays my LS20 doesn't get much use. An infinitely-variable control-ring light serves me better on a daily basis; in fact, I've had the same one for about 3 years now. I suppose it would be accurate to say my most enthusiastic involvement in the hobby spanned from 2009 to 2011 -- nowadays it's well-embedded into the fabric of my being, with the ever-advancing weave at the leading edge having moved on to depict other patterns. A lot of the time nowadays, my collection of flashlights is partially-obscured by a pile of spare RC car parts, waiting for me to get sick of them taking up space and sell them online.
But every now and then I pick up my LS20, and I really look at it like I used to, and I remember. I remember how excited I was when I got the email that I'd managed to buy one. I remember being embarrassed about how much I'd spent on it. (I still haven't told most people how much it really cost.) I remember taking it to work every day, kicking back at my desk between jobs, and just admiring it, twisting the head back and forth and feeling the threads rubbing together.
It looks like a simple light, because it isn't festooned with buttons and pointy bits and whatnot, but it's intricate. The raised ribs that run around the battery tube, to improve grip without the industrial look of knurling. The scallops on the sides of the head to improve grip for twisting. The subtle crenellations on the head bezel so light can peek out, to remind you to shut it off if you set it down head-down, without being sharp enough to tear up your pants. The tiny words etched onto the circuit board, indicating who they were made for and what purpose they serve. The kilroy switch and the shiny little solder beads where the wires connect. The complex reflector with its extra holes for the little floodlights surrounding the spotlight. The tint-matched LEDs. Only a few years later, I can already say "they don't make 'em like they used to", and in all fairness, it's hardly necessary -- but it sure is nice.
I remember when I figured out how I could modify my LS20 to have multiple brightness settings. I remember when I finally figured out how to make my own grease to keep the lipophobic titanium threads from grinding against each other until they felt like sandpaper. I remember when I had the spare time to make these products available to other people, so I could be a contributor instead of just a consumer.
It was a lot of fun. And it all started when I bought my LS20.
