I get my hair cut at a place called Jerry's Barber Shop. I've never met Jerry and I think he actually dates back several owners ago. From what I can tell only his name remains these days. I figure Jerry is somewhere down in Florida playing shuffleboard.

But if Jerry ever decides to return and check out the old shop, I think he'll notice that not much has changed since he handed over the keys. The tile on the floor looks back to the 50s. The floor is so faded and worn that it actually defies a place on the color chart. So, too, do the worn barber chairs as well as the chrome and leather chairs in which the customers wait. There are even big chrome ashtray stands still stationed in the waiting area - thankfully, there are no takers. It's a comfy place and you know for a certain fact that you aren't paying for any glitz.

Carol buzz cuts my hair and she always remembers 1.5 on the sides and 2 on the top. As part of our routine she shows me the clippers before she starts.

"See," Carol says pointing to the numeric marking on the clippers.

Carol makes the world a better place because with us older guys she tackles the eyebrows, the nose and the ears. No discussion, it's an unspoken ritual. She just whips out her scissors and snips, snips and viola - you're decent. Carol's scissors cost over $200. She told me this once when they were missing.

At those franchise hair places the gals don't stray off the "hair on your head" hairline. They leave all other hairs, ears, eyebrows, etc. to be fruitful and multiply.

When Carol cuts hair she doesn't spin the chair around, she does a little spin herself. It's cute, she keeps things lively. In the background she has an oldies station playing on a little yellow plastic radio that sits in the front window.

For yours truly, an appointment with Carol doesn't take more than ten minutes. There's no pretense here, no stretching the experience out. You know you're almost done when Carol hits the shave cream dispenser and gets out the razor. This is a real haircut here. I don't think the franchise gals are even allowed to use a razor.

The other day Carol and I traded favorite lunch places. She told me about a place that roasts 300 chickens a day. Pita bread and a piece of chicken runs $5. Carol was so convincing I drove by the place to check it out. The chickens are on spits turning in the window. The place looked like it had been there forever - just like Jerry's.

With a barber shop its either a fit or it isn't. I don't think guys ever complain about their barber - we just leave. We vote with our feet.

For a long time I went to a barbershop that was a little more swank than I needed. Then they added neck massage

to the routine. I wasn't interested

in making a hair cut that complicated. I excused the neck business the first time, but the second time...I was out of there.

I used to have a favorite barber. Jimmy was Italian and all business. He was an excellent barber. I followed Jimmy where ever his chair took us. But it was complicated. The places where Jimmy worked always had drama. There would be a cast of characters starting with the gum chewing receptionist, the flirtatious manicurist and the oh so critical shoeshine guy. Add to that group the prima dona stylist and the loudmouth owner fighting with his wife or his supplier. The drama got exhausting and it made an ordinary hair cut into an intense experience.

I hated leaving Jimmy, but I voted with my feet.

So for now I'm happy and contented, in good hands with Carol over at Jerry's. But the day I notice color swatches up on the wall or the floor man in for an estimate, I'm going to raise my newly trimmed eyebrow.

All I want is 1.5 on the sides, 2 on the top and snip, snip, snip.