I’ve got to get a new grill. Mine has burned its last burger, charred its last hot dog. I’ve replaced every part in it that can be replaced. But when the lid fell off last week, I realized there was no way to put it off. I hate the thought of having to break in a new grill. Is there any relationship closer than a man and his grill? A wife? Children? Parents? Friends? Sure, they’re all important, but a grill – that’s something special, something unique. After years of grilling I had finally figured out all my grill’s hot spots, remembered where to put the patties for people who like their meat bloody, where to put them for those who like it crusty. I knew exactly how long it took to warm up, exactly how long things took to cook. Like snowflakes and gas prices, no two grills are exactly alike.