I tried to burn off my eyebrows yesterday and nearly succeeded. Having already been afflicted with a receding hairline, bequeathed by the fairy-gene mother, I did not need the further injury that I attempted to inflict upon myself.

Let me explain from the beginning. It all started when I constructed a new tin roof on one of my places in Virginia some years ago. I placed the roof on free-standing poles set in cement and sheeted over it with tin.

I did not, however, install guttering or a porch roof. Upon sustaining the large recent winter precipitation, said tin roof decided to shed its load upon the porch, effectively blocking the screen door from opening outward — especially after the snow and ice melted slightly and then froze solid over the weekend with temperatures in the teens or lower. I had two choices: I could either try to enter a window, go through the back door (also iced over), or clear the front door. Therefore, I opted to enter using one of my favorite tools, a propane torch that was given to me by a friend who lives in Charlotte. The torch has a long handle and I have used it often for lighting brush piles and the like. At any rate, I was holding the torch, which resembles a walking cane, under one arm and trying to get my matches lit with my hands. It might have been easier had I not been wearing gloves.

Anyway, once I managed to light a couple of matches, I held them in one hand while turning on the brass gas valve with the other. The torch is powered by regular propane cylinders, the kind you might screw on to a lantern or camping stove.

Once the gas started flowing, I held the match to the end of the torch and was treated to the whoosh of flame shooting from the end. I immediately started melting the ice and snow in front of the door, an operation that goes much more quickly when the temperatures are above freezing.

Just as I started making headway, I accidentally got the torch too close to the snow and put it out. I then quickly turned off the gas and got out my matches for another trial run.

After again struggling and finally managing to get one lit, I turned on the gas and lit the end of the torch. However, this time the flame was weak, so I reached down to the control valve and turned up the gas a little more. Somehow, maybe one of you smart people can explain to me how, the flame rushed back down the tube and started shooting out of the ventura tube area. Of course, I was still looking down at the control knob and trying to make adjustments at the time.

The flames rushed out before I had a chance to really react, surging up in my face. My natural reaction was to throw the torch, which I did without hesitation.

The smell of roast hair was my next indication that I may have let the flames get a wee bit close to my face before, or as, I tossed the torch. Luckily, I escaped any skin injuries, which could have been traumatic under the circumstances.

After tossing the torch, it landed on the porch with flames gushing out of the ventura tube, near the handle. Not knowing what to do to extinguish the flame without further risking my life, I opted to toss the torch into the yard.

I also had somewhat of an irrational fear that the little propane tank might get too hot and explode. I don't think that would have been a possible outcome, but I wasn't taking any chances. I quickly picked up the end that was supposed to be burning and tossed the torch out into the snow. The flames continued to roar uncontrolled for about three or four minutes before the tank exhausted itself and the torch died down.

I then went back to the truck for a more conventional tool, one I would be less likely to injure myself with. Before doing so, I ventured a peek in the truck's rearview and saw that, while my bangs were slightly singed and I may have lost a little facial hair, I was pretty well uninjured. In fact, once I brushed off the burnt ends, I could hardly tell it happened at all. When a fellow's hair has been falling out faster than the stock market after Sept. 11, he has reason to be concerned with the few that are left. A man with a sizeable herd of cattle who loses one is bothered, but a man with three cattle who loses one is devastated.

Anyway, I picked up my long-handled shovel, which I always carry in the back of the truck in the winter in case I slide off the road in some unfortunate turn of events, and returned to the cab to look for another tool to help the job along. I came up with a regular hammer and started beating away at the ice and crusty snow, then shoveled it up and tossed it into the yard.

Overall, I can't say I learned very much in the whole process. I still plan to use the torch in the future, just with more care. In my estimation, I must have covered some of the holes near the handle at the ventura tube inadvertently with my coat to make the flames feed back. That's the only option I can figure out, especially considering that I have used the torch several times in the past without a problem. Even so, when it comes to moving snow and ice, a shovel and hammer are hard to beat for effectiveness, but they lack the excitement of the torch.

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