I Can Quit Collecting at Any Time; In Fact, I Have

1940s technology to the rescue.

But I still get a twinge when reading about this typewriter repairman-restoration specialist in Glenwood Springs, Colorado. One of three in the state, it turns out.

“Talk QWERTY to me: A vintage typewriter shop in Glenwood Springs gets analog hearts racing.”

Typewriters are lined up on floor-to-ceiling shelves. They are tucked away in rows of sturdy carrying cases. They squat, solid and reliable, on every surface. In the basement, there are typewriter towers and canyons. Typewriter belts, washers, feet, springs and other bits fill bins and boxes — so many, there are “parts for parts,” owner Darwin Raymond observed wryly.

Typewriters are lined up on floor-to-ceiling shelves. They are tucked away in rows of sturdy carrying cases. They squat, solid and reliable, on every surface. In the basement, there are typewriter towers and canyons. Typewriter belts, washers, feet, springs and other bits fill bins and boxes — so many, there are “parts for parts,” owner Darwin Raymond observed wryly.

One of these days, my travels will bring me to Glenwood Springs again.

5 thoughts on “I Can Quit Collecting at Any Time; In Fact, I Have

  1. Oh sure! All of us can call ourselves “Used to be a collector!”

    Until we stumble across one more manifestation of whatever it may be that stirs the slumbering dragon of Must-Have-itis. The sly voice that whispers that just one more will do no unsettling of calm. The overpowering roar of “The Hoard! The Hoard!”

    O Sweet Obsession!

    I suspect our hominin ancestors, cousins, and conspecifics told themselves that they, too, could quit collecting. It probably comes along with being us–the (former/Formorian) collectors we all are.

  2. Okay, so you get one of these typewriters and where do you get the ribbons? Do they even make those ribbons anymore?

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