If your cues have EVER been damaged because of the case you use, post your story here
- Thread starter watchez
- Start date
Nice dog - you should have a nice case to go with it.
Most likely a flaw in the interior, in some cheaper cases the tubes do not go all the way down either, you get what you pay for I guess. I now have a pretty pricey cue for me around $1500 and want to make sure its protected.
Most likely a flaw in the interior, in some cheaper cases the tubes do not go all the way down either, you get what you pay for I guess. I now have a pretty pricey cue for me around $1500 and want to make sure its protected.
I am amazed that some of these case builders have figured out that if they just shorten a tube by 1 inch, they can get so many more cases built out of their raw materials. But it is really not fair to the consumer when they get an inferior product.
Oh - and according to the Barton Ustream and comments on this board - you can get more than what you paid for. Just compare the prices of his cases vs a Justis.
Did you want to order a vacuum to protect your $1500 cue?
I prefer you do the test with the case in question. Justis Prolite
The only damage I have ever had I'll blame on myself. My cue slipping out and chipping the collar of the shaft. I was still a newbie and it wasn't a real expensive cue, I am much more careful now. I do not own a justice or JB, but would like to have one in the future. I guess I have been pretty satisfied with the protection of my mid-range priced cases, as I usually am not carrying my customs around. I keep them locked up at home.
I think the original question in this thread was a good one, but every time someone has an experience contrary to what others may like/think the get jacked or deemed invalid. Why is that?
I think the original question in this thread was a good one, but every time someone has an experience contrary to what others may like/think the get jacked or deemed invalid. Why is that?
The Vincitore Justis knock off is a padded tubed case like the Instroke cases, some say (don't know if it is true) that the Vincitore cases are made by the same company that makes Instroke. This is unlike the thin fabric dividers on the real Justis case. The Justis roadrunner have NO dividers at all, so yes I did not trust it at all!
Here is the Vincitore interior
And here is the Justis roadrunner interior (cue was only inserted once to take this photo!)
I buy products based on their quality and not their origin.
My opinion on cheap, lead based Chinese toys is the same as for cheap, lead based American toys.
Had a 3x7 Instroke that was just worn out after 8 years. The padding on the bottom was almost gone and caused a couple of finish chips in my cue. Should have gotten a new case sooner so it was my fault.
One time, I took a $4,200 Tascarella and placed it ever so gingerly into my 4x6 Justis Prolite, then placed the case very softly into the backseat of my car and prepared to make my journey to the billiard parlor.
About a mile down the road, I smelled something funny, like excrement, but paid a little mind to the odor. The next thing I knew, I heard a faint voice beggin, in fact PLEADING for mercy. Looking around, I saw no one. 'Must have been the radio' I thought so I reached over and turned it off.
A few moments later, there was a muffled blast, similar to that of a gunshot masked by a makeshift 'silencer'. It was immediately followed by a screaming woman and a crying baby. Then, another muffled blast, followed by a thud. Thining I was losing my mind, I skidded to a halt and look everywhere.
When my eyes fell upon the backseat of my car, I saw my Tascarella but, laying lifeless and unprotected, a bullethole in the forearm just under the joint. It had been shot in the neck and was losing blood fast. Next to it, a shaft was soaked in moisture just below the ferrule and wailing like a sobbing woman. My jump cue hid in the corner in shame as it seemed he had soiled himself in fear. Another shaft tried feverishly to stop the bleeding with a small towel I had used for cleaning the shaft. He fashioned the blood stained towel into a makeshift tourniquet but it was too late. Within moments, my Tascarella had rolled off the seat, onto the floor mat, and let out a faint, strained last breath. He was gone and he had a chip in the finish of his buttcap.
It took me a moment to realize that the driver's side, rear door was open. Just outside on the pavement was a tiny revolver, still smoking from the two shits fired. When I did, I looked out and saw my Justis Prolite hop the divider on the highway and run off into the woods.
I can only wonder if this could have been prevented with a softer, more padded interior.
About a mile down the road, I smelled something funny, like excrement, but paid a little mind to the odor. The next thing I knew, I heard a faint voice beggin, in fact PLEADING for mercy. Looking around, I saw no one. 'Must have been the radio' I thought so I reached over and turned it off.
A few moments later, there was a muffled blast, similar to that of a gunshot masked by a makeshift 'silencer'. It was immediately followed by a screaming woman and a crying baby. Then, another muffled blast, followed by a thud. Thining I was losing my mind, I skidded to a halt and look everywhere.
When my eyes fell upon the backseat of my car, I saw my Tascarella but, laying lifeless and unprotected, a bullethole in the forearm just under the joint. It had been shot in the neck and was losing blood fast. Next to it, a shaft was soaked in moisture just below the ferrule and wailing like a sobbing woman. My jump cue hid in the corner in shame as it seemed he had soiled himself in fear. Another shaft tried feverishly to stop the bleeding with a small towel I had used for cleaning the shaft. He fashioned the blood stained towel into a makeshift tourniquet but it was too late. Within moments, my Tascarella had rolled off the seat, onto the floor mat, and let out a faint, strained last breath. He was gone and he had a chip in the finish of his buttcap.
It took me a moment to realize that the driver's side, rear door was open. Just outside on the pavement was a tiny revolver, still smoking from the two shits fired. When I did, I looked out and saw my Justis Prolite hop the divider on the highway and run off into the woods.
I can only wonder if this could have been prevented with a softer, more padded interior.
Last edited:
I agree! Vincitore rocks the house for the price I don't care where it's made i've never had one I wasn't impressed with.
It has never happened to me and it seems implausible.
One time, I took a $4,200 Tascarella and placed it ever so gingerly into my 4x6 Justis Prolite, then placed the case very softly into the backseat of my car and prepared to make my journey to the billiard parlor.
About a mile down the road, I smelled something funny, like excrement, but paid a little mind to the odor. The next thing I knew, I heard a faint voice beggin, in fact PLEADING for mercy. Looking around, I saw no one. 'Must have been the radio' I thought so I reached over and turned it off.
A few moments later, there was a muffled blast, similar to that of a gunshot masked by a makeshift 'silencer'. It was immediately followed by a screaming woman and a crying baby. Then, another muffled blast, followed by a thud. Thining I was losing my mind, I skidded to a halt and look everywhere.
When my eyes fell upon the backseat of my car, I saw my Tascarella but, laying lifeless and unprotected, a bullethole in the forearm just under the joint. It had been shot in the neck and was losing blood fast. Next to it, a shaft was soaked in moisture just below the ferrule and wailing like a sobbing woman. My jump cue hid in the corner in shame as it seemed he had soiled himself in fear. Another shaft tried feverishly to stop the bleeding with a small towel I had used for cleaning the shaft. He fashioned the blood stained towel into a makeshift tourniquet but it was too late. Within moments, my Tascarella had rolled off the seat, onto the floor mat, and let out a faint, strained last breath. He was gone and he had a chip in the finish of his buttcap.
It took me a moment to realize that the driver's side, rear door was open. Just outside on the pavement was a tiny revolver, still smoking from the two shits fired. When I did, I looked out and saw my Justis Prolite hop the divider on the highway and run off into the woods.
I can only wonder if this could have been prevented with a softer, more padded interior.
LOLOLOLOLOL ROTFL :rotflmao1::rotflmao1::rotflmao1:
I had a mcdermott case, which i believe was made by porper but I could be mistaken. It was a 2x4 hardcase. I had a few cheap cues in it, and it would travel in the car with me, but never left it in there all day or anything too extreme. I found one day one of the cues was stuck and after much trying i finally got it out, it seemed that the glue somehow became attached to the cue. The inside fluff of the case was all stuck to the cue and I never figured it out, ended up throwing the case away...was glad it was just a cheap cue in there. Even if it did end up getting hot inside my vehicle, i would think it should not be hot enough to make it do something like that, just bad engineering if you ask me.
Grey Ghost
Grey Ghost
I double agree...I bought a used Vincentore 2x4 from a pawn shop for next to nothing, its beat to hell, but does a good job of protecting my cues...
Conversely, another cue of mine was damaged in another, not so physical way.
I had a JB Case. It was gorgeous. Flames tooled up the sides. A heart with a dagger through it tooled into the pocket with a thin banner that read 'Mom'. It was badass. Perhaps the reason I fell so hard for it. And definitely the reason my Bluegrass spent her nights deep within its loving embrace.
It was a cue that had accompanied me on my climb up the ladder to Open status and it made itself at home inside the case. It seemed like a perfect union. The two were inseperable, only left apart when I played. Even then, my JB Case cheered the Bluegrass on from the sidelines and even rubbed her butt between innings as she rested herself within its warm, soft, comforting grasp. If ANY case tried to even get NEAR her, my JB Case became violent. It was almost unsettling.
Soon after, my Bluegrass began to see a few dings and scratches here and there. She told me she had fallen into a chair or the table while I was at the bar. "You know me. I'm sooo clumsy". She looked away, embarassed to show me the bruises on her pointwork. But I knew they were there and it was a clearcut sign something was up.
One night, mid-set, I walked from the table after a short 4 ball run and was about to place my ol' Bluegrass lady friend into the loving embrace of her lover, my JB Case. Only, her place was somehow filled by a stranger in our midst... a pink ivory cue that seemed to be flaunting its femininity. And man oh man! Ol' JB Case ate it up.
Never one to cause a problem, my Bluegrass parked herself into the alternate slot, now becoming #2 in the JB Case's eyes.
The decline was gradual. First, dings and scratches. Then a general feeling of depression set in. Before long, Bluegrass was barely able to make it to the table.
In the end, she lopped off her tip with a sharp razor blade and slowly began to warp in the butt.
The moral of the story is... no cue is safe from ANY case, no matter how soft and warm its interior is.
I had a JB Case. It was gorgeous. Flames tooled up the sides. A heart with a dagger through it tooled into the pocket with a thin banner that read 'Mom'. It was badass. Perhaps the reason I fell so hard for it. And definitely the reason my Bluegrass spent her nights deep within its loving embrace.
It was a cue that had accompanied me on my climb up the ladder to Open status and it made itself at home inside the case. It seemed like a perfect union. The two were inseperable, only left apart when I played. Even then, my JB Case cheered the Bluegrass on from the sidelines and even rubbed her butt between innings as she rested herself within its warm, soft, comforting grasp. If ANY case tried to even get NEAR her, my JB Case became violent. It was almost unsettling.
Soon after, my Bluegrass began to see a few dings and scratches here and there. She told me she had fallen into a chair or the table while I was at the bar. "You know me. I'm sooo clumsy". She looked away, embarassed to show me the bruises on her pointwork. But I knew they were there and it was a clearcut sign something was up.
One night, mid-set, I walked from the table after a short 4 ball run and was about to place my ol' Bluegrass lady friend into the loving embrace of her lover, my JB Case. Only, her place was somehow filled by a stranger in our midst... a pink ivory cue that seemed to be flaunting its femininity. And man oh man! Ol' JB Case ate it up.
Never one to cause a problem, my Bluegrass parked herself into the alternate slot, now becoming #2 in the JB Case's eyes.
The decline was gradual. First, dings and scratches. Then a general feeling of depression set in. Before long, Bluegrass was barely able to make it to the table.
In the end, she lopped off her tip with a sharp razor blade and slowly began to warp in the butt.
The moral of the story is... no cue is safe from ANY case, no matter how soft and warm its interior is.
Hey, while you're at it, can you tell us how your chubby PFC azz suddenly became an Army Ranger again?
http://i76.photobucket.com/albums/j14/ftgokie/EIB.jpg
*Edit-if you were such a badass, how did you earn your EIB before you even got an ARMCOM or at the
least an AAM; ASR looks very lonely up there all by its lonesome...
Eric >loves fairy tales
Last edited:
One time, I took a $4,200 Tascarella and placed it ever so gingerly into my 4x6 Justis Prolite, then placed the case very softly into the backseat of my car and prepared to make my journey to the billiard parlor.
About a mile down the road, I smelled something funny, like excrement, but paid a little mind to the odor. The next thing I knew, I heard a faint voice beggin, in fact PLEADING for mercy. Looking around, I saw no one. 'Must have been the radio' I thought so I reached over and turned it off.
A few moments later, there was a muffled blast, similar to that of a gunshot masked by a makeshift 'silencer'. It was immediately followed by a screaming woman and a crying baby. Then, another muffled blast, followed by a thud. Thining I was losing my mind, I skidded to a halt and look everywhere.
When my eyes fell upon the backseat of my car, I saw my Tascarella but, laying lifeless and unprotected, a bullethole in the forearm just under the joint. It had been shot in the neck and was losing blood fast. Next to it, a shaft was soaked in moisture just below the ferrule and wailing like a sobbing woman. My jump cue hid in the corner in shame as it seemed he had soiled himself in fear. Another shaft tried feverishly to stop the bleeding with a small towel I had used for cleaning the shaft. He fashioned the blood stained towel into a makeshift tourniquet but it was too late. Within moments, my Tascarella had rolled off the seat, onto the floor mat, and let out a faint, strained last breath. He was gone and he had a chip in the finish of his buttcap.
It took me a moment to realize that the driver's side, rear door was open. Just outside on the pavement was a tiny revolver, still smoking from the two shits fired. When I did, I looked out and saw my Justis Prolite hop the divider on the highway and run off into the woods.
I can only wonder if this could have been prevented with a softer, more padded interior.
:clapping: now THAT IS FUNNY!!