I got the pinball disease in the early '80s

Skip back a few years to the mid to late '70s. My friends and I used to hang out at a particular 7-11 all hours of the night, shooting the breeze and playing pinball. Yes, they actually had pinball machines in the local 7-11's. The night manager didn't mind because she felt safe with us hanging around. I only remember playing Eight Ball, Mata Hari and Playboy but I know there were others. This is where the disease started.

Fast forward a few years. Was living in Charlotte, NC at the time. Got an Assistant Manager job at a place called Barrel of Fun in Freedom Mall. It was your garden variety video arcade; lots of pins, video games and foosball tables. Being the Assistant Manager, I had keys to all the machines and the building so I could play anytime I wanted. I would even have friends over long after the place closed to play the machines. All that was required was to place a piece of paper in the machines cash box to detail how many "free" credits were put on the meter. This is where the disease really sets its hook and then goes into remission..

After moving on from that job (joined the US Navy) I played pinball occasionally whenever I found some decent machines to play. I'd eagerly drop quarters or tokens in the machines even not knowing the rules. In fact it wasn't until much later that I learned that pinball machines actually had fairly sophisticated rulesets. This period is where the disease remains silent, waiting patiently.

Fast forward to 2001. Out of the blue, I tell my wife that I'm thinking about getting a pinball machine. She rolled her eyes at me like all wives do when their husbands come up with some goof idea such as this. But, like most husbands, that didn't stop me. I scoured the Internet looking for a machine. Not just any machine but my machine. I had to find a Bally Eight Ball. I really wanted to find a Bally Playboy but the ones I found were trashed, blown out playfields. Finally found the Eight Ball on eBay (I know, I know) in Michigan. Even after paying NAVL to get it to VA, I still had a good deal. The machine although slightly tired and worn in the center of the playfield worked flawlessly. Since I was an electronics technician in the Navy any repairs needed would be no problem for me.

Now the disease awakens from its sleep. I say to myself, "You should restore this machine". Long story, short - I did. I learned many new skills; painting with an airbrush, painting with an HVLP gun; tumbling parts; metalwork and many more. I ended up getting a CPR repro playfield for the game. Like many other collectors, I completely restored this game to as close to original as was within my skill limit. I still have it today and it will stay in my collection.

The disease gets worse from this point on. Since I thought this was fun and easy, I decided to get another machine; one that I remembered playing from my youth. Fireball Classic was in my sights. Same as before, I scoured the Internet looking for the machine (this time staying away from eBay). Found one in PA from a place going out of business. I paid more than I should have but the machine was in very good condition, although a little dirty. Got it home, cleaned it up and it's still here.

Next comes my '67 Williams Apollo, followed by STTNG, TAF, AFM (this was a bunch of parts in a box), '48 Gottlieb Lady Robin Hood, Paragon (sold), IM, Skateball and Avatar LE. I also have on order WOZ and Predator. Instead of having one pin in my home office, I now have an entire room with 7 pins in it.

The disease really has control of me now. No known cure but I will struggle through this. Seriously though, these are lots of fun and my family and friends enjoy them. Plus it makes for a great conversation topic when asked what I do for a hobby.