My electric razor is on its last legs, and I'm not looking forward to finding a new one. I have an obsolete Remington with about 240,000 miles that's been cutting stubble on my face for nearly six years. I learned a long time ago I wasn't man enough to handle a safety razor every day; not even one of those with five titanium blades and the lubrication strip. So I use an electric most of the time and catch all the ingrown hairs once a week with my multi bladed, hi tech instrument.

Schick and Gillette have been conducting a nuclear arms race over razors, blades, and shaving cream for decades. Both use an effective message; you must keep up with the technology and have a smooth face to get the Swedish bikini models to pay attention. Meanwhile, every young guy in TV has a two day stubble and greasy hair.

The battles over electric razors are getting just as intense. They all advertise self cleaning; self sharpening cutting edges, technology that tricks whiskers into standing up, and hot babes. It's hard to decide.

I've used Braun, Norelco, and Remington and never been able to tell much difference. After a week, the shave is about the same. I've still got one or two of each brand hiding in medicine cabinets, waiting for me to re- discover them.

The Remington I'm currently using works fine. I've replaced the foil cover and the cutting surfaces several times. The internet can locate spare parts for most anything. My problem is the battery. It is getting harder and harder to keep it charged long enough to finish the job. A local repairman says the current model uses a newer battery that won't fit my shaver. When the battery quits charging, my Remington will become a paper weight.

Ordinarily, this wouldn't be a big deal, but this Remington belonged to my father. It was one of the last things to touch his living face. I took it from his home when he left this world and liked the idea of using it. It is a little thing that allows me to stay in touch with his spirit, something I need desperately to do.

I've visited his grave several times but never felt the presence of his ghost. I sense he is there when I watch Alabama play football, smell leaves burning, or hear quail call each other just after dusk. He was born in September and died as the leaves dropped and winter began to take over in November, 81 years and two months later.

Much of my adult life was spent gathering great memories with him; memories I need now that he is no longer around. We made most of those when the leaves turned and the cool air replaced the summer humidity. I think of my father a lot. I miss him much more during the fall.

It seems we talked just the other day and it seems like he's been gone forever. It's been 70 months. That's pretty long in razor years. I hope the Remington can make one more football season. Then I'll get a new one. Maybe.