The second phase began in the late 90s when I took an interest in automatic watches. The Raymond Weil watches all had quartz movements -- i.e., they ran on battery power. Automatic movements are mechanical. When your wrist moves and the watch case shakes, a weight in the movement circles around and winds the watch. These watches are sometimes called self-winding or, mistakenly, "kinetic."

Although I'm no fan of Mont Blanc watches, when they first introduced their chronograph watches I was hooked. Imagine a big, thick, black-faced watch with bold white lettering. When it came time to purchase, though, I happened to glance over and see the Baume et Mercier Capeland chronograph. It was love at first sight.

For a couple of years, I wore the Capeland with its original steel band and didn't think much about watches. Then, I started talking to fellow watch enthusiasts Keith Ingram, Tony Balay and Luke Le Duc. That launched phase three. The first thing I did in this phase was replace the Capeland's steel band with a contoured rubber one featuring a branded deployant clasp. A deployant clasp is a metal clasp that holds the two sides of the strap together folds over to secure them. (The word deployant is French, with the -ant ending serving the same function as our -ing. English speakers often incorrectly say "deployment." In fact, one authorized Rolex service person insisted on correcting my correct pronunciation over and over again when I tried to buy one of these clasps at Houston's Watch Hospital on FM 1960. Naturally, I kept saying deployant.)

During the summer of 2002, I also added a Sinn Flieger 356 to the collection. The Sinn is a classic military-style chrono with an acrylic dome and brushed steel finish. They are not exactly easy to find, so I did a lot of research online, spending hours at the Sinn Forum, before I finally made my purchase.

The Sinn Flieger started me down the path of military-style watches, and soon I had added a Fortis to the collection. That took some time, because my first impression of Fortis aesthetics was very negative. By early 2003, though, that had all changed and I walked into Tourneau in the Houston Galleria to buy the Fortis pictured at right.

But let's rewind and talk about the "one that got away." For me, it was the Rolex Explorer II. My feelings about Rolex paralleled the ones I had for Mont Blanc: I considered it to be an over-priced brand sustained more by hype than reality. Rolex seemed to cater to all that was gaudy and tasteless in this life. My father had a couple of Rolexes and I used to tease him about them. Well, pride goeth before a fall. One day I saw the first Rolex that ever caught my eye: a stainless steel sports model with a 24-hour hand. The Explorer II had been really hot just before I discovered it, and the price was over $3,000. That was over twice what I had paid for the Baume et Mercier. I rationalized the expense in a variety of clever ways and tried to invent a number of schemes that would offset the cost.

But in the end, it proved too extravagant. The cost of the Rolex was well over my limit, psychologically if not financially. Still, there are days when I imagine how different things might have been....

The irony of this obsession is that watches with automatic movements do not keep better time than those with quartz movements. In fact, a cheap Seiko you pick up at Wal-Mart may very well prove more accurate than a Patek Phillippe that costs more than your car. To enter these waters, you have to submit to the idea of the watch as an objet d'art. And you have find a way to survive when you bang your expensive objet on a door frame.