More Nostalgic Crap
There. I warned you.At the same party where I received the SR-10 (see previous post), I was also given a stop sign. A real stop sign, on a 4" x 4" white wooden post (as stop signs routinely were mounted in those days). Why? I'll let Paul Linhardt tell the story.
The story was that after several aborted attempts, Josh, Dan and I took off to San Francisco on our first official road trip after getting our licenses. Driving around the streets of San Francisco we noticed a stop sign lying by the side of the road which we threw in the back seat with the sign post sticking out Dan's sun roof. After lengthy discussions about what to do with it, we decided we should make a present of it as a symbol of affection to our good friend Larry Rubinow who was leaving our little group for greener pastures. However, we felt that it might be a little inconvenient for Larry who was moving to some place like Fresno, since we didn't know if his family's car also had a sun roof. So we took it back to the basement of my uncle's place and came up with an elaborate system of hinges and locks so that the sign could be folded up into a convenient carrying container. Incidentally, my uncle later reported to my mother that I had fallen in with a bad crowd and was prone to defacing public property.I'm not sure that really answers the "Why?" question for most people, though it satisfies me completely. The folding arrangement truly was ingenious; the whole 6-foot-plus package folded down to something little larger than the sign itself (which, to be fair, wasn't exactly small). When last seen by me, the sign was in my brother's garage; I hope it's still there, though I haven't asked.
If Paul ever reads this post, he might be interested in knowing that I had a brief correspondence several years back with Sherri Gottlieb, owner of the late, lamented L.A. sci-fi store, "A Change of Hobbit." She was doing well, but I can't remember much more. I'll see if I have them archived somewhere.
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