I pulled out one of my old film cameras three weeks ago.
Kindra and I were slipping off for an overnight anniversary get-away and I thought I’d snap a couple of rolls of film to commemorate the event.
If you are a regular reader, you remember that I have a fondness for old film cameras, especially the twin lens models that were popular in the ‘50s and ‘60s. I used one of those on my first newspaper job and cut my photojournalist teeth on them.
I’ve acquired several through the years and using them always make me feel like a cub reporter again. It’s a cheap and easy way to roll 40 years off the calendar.
For this trip, I grabbed a Minolta Autocord, which is light and would be convenient for some of the short hikes we planned to take.
I loaded a roll of film and was going to take a test photo - but the dern thing wouldn’t work.
Wouldn’t focus, wouldn’t fire the shutter. Wouldn’t do much of anything except make me feel bad.
So, I grabbed another camera for the trip. When we got back, I sent the unresponsive one off to Oregon for a diagnosis and repair.
A few days later, I got an email that said: “Your camera suffered a major impact to the upper bayonet mount and the impact smashed the aperture/shutter control panel in, which caused the stiff aperture adjustment issue. Also, the impact bent the lens board in, which will affect focus, as well as broke one of the lens board mount screws.”
Good Lord. Sounded like the camera had been used as a weapon in a bar fight.
I immediately suspected J.R. the cat.
A few years ago, I was working at home and had a digital camera and extra lens out on my desk.
J.R. was on the desk, too, and I could read his mind as he thought: “This lens offends me. I will bat it and see what happens.”
He cuffed the lens, which rolled off the desk onto the tile floor, shattering the protective filter but not doing fatal damage.
Given that history and the autopsy report from the repair guy, I suspect this sequence of events befell the Autocord:
I had left it sitting out, J.R. took offense at it for occupying space in his house and batted it onto the floor.
Later, a considerate passerby saw it and thought: “Brian left his camera on the floor. I will put it on the counter for him.”
I found it in much the same place I had left it and didn’t suspect anything amiss until I tried to use it before the anniversary trip.
The repairs on the camera are finished now and it should be back from Oregon by the time you read this.
I am $120 poorer, and I have been reminding J.R. how many kitty treats that could have bought.