Pulled into pinball

I pulled around the back of Kenny's house in a borrowed pickup truck. Kenny's silver hair was greased and perfectly combed back. He'd had a stroke a few years ago, so one arm didn't work and the other was constantly tending a cigarette that hung out of his mouth. His speech was a little off, which made his thick southern accent even harder to understand. Several sheds, barns and outbuildings showed Kenny to be a packrat and a grease monkey. He walked me over and revealed what I was here for: A 1977 Bally Eight Ball pinball machine.

I had never been very interested in pinball. I liked playing it in bars in college when it was available, but never thought about it much. Last summer I started playing a Stern Ripley's Believe It Or Not machine in a local pizza joint. I found myself convincing my girlfriend to get pizza there just so I could play the machine. (The delicious pizza made convincing pretty easy.) I started looking for arcade's in the area. I wasn't addicted yet, but I was interested.

My roommate (Let's call him Spray Can) told me about the Ashville Pinball Museum. I made the drive to Ashville and fell in love. I started playing more and more pinball. Spray Can and I would be talking scores and game designs. Then, Spray Can started sending me craigslist ads for pinball machines in the area. They all needed repair work. I was hesitant. What if I couldn't fix it. What if I spent a ton of money and it just sat there - unplayed and unloved. I kept thinking "$1000 buys me 2000 games at 50 cents each. If I play 10 games a month, it would take me 17 years to make that machine worth it." I just wasn't ready to take the plunge.

One day I received a text from Spray Can, "Dude, I'm getting a pinball machine. Want to ride along?" I couldn't turn that down. He bought a 1980 Bally Xenon. A machine we had both played many times at this point. The artwork on that machine is one of my favorites. We pulled it home in a Uhaul trailer and took the dive into how we get it working. Studying the owner's manual and scouring online forums, Spray Can was able to diagnose the machine. He ordered parts. One night we were talking about it and I realized not only that I COULD repair a pinball machine, but that I WANTED to. It was no longer a quarters game in my head. At this point, I was fully addicted.

I started studying deals on craigslist. I found an ad that stated: "antique juke boxes, soda vending machine, pinball machines, all unrestored and from the 1960s era. $400 each." No Photos. I sent an email asking what machine it was and what condition it was in. The response said "I posted it for a friend who doesn't have a computer. Call Kenny at ###-###-####. No texting, it's a landline." I gave Kenny a call. -Bally Eight Ball, Not Working, $200.- There was some story about some guy wanting everything for $700, and then only the juke boxes for $300, who Kenny told to "F*** off." and now he wanted $200 for the pinball machine. Kenny was next to impossible to understand on the phone, but I hung up thinking, "did this guy just haggle HIMSELF down to $200?" I borrowed my friend's pickup and started on the 2 hour drive to Kenny's house hoping to make it before dark.

There it was, right in front of me: an Eight Ball pinball machine. The knock off Fonzie smirking at me and Pinkie Tuscadero's cleavage drawing me in. The backglass was in perfect condition, but the machine was filthy. The side of the cabinet had been exposed to some inadvertant spray painting. The inside was filled with mud cocoons from mud dauber wasps. The playfield showed a decent amount of wear. The whole thing was covered in car grease and reeked of cigarette smoke. The machine lit up (mostly), but that was about it.

Between puffs on a cigarette, Kenny confirmed that he wanted $200 for the machine. I knew the challenge of repair was one of the primary reasons I was buying it, so if seemed perfect. I took it.

Kenny and his son started to warm up a bit as we cracked jokes and he told us about his classic cars. As we loaded up the machine, crazy Scotty rolled into the yard on a lawnmower. (his only mode of transportation) My girlfriend is a vintage picker and asked if they had anything else they were looking to sell. Soon we were going through barns and garages. Scotty was cracking jokes about how birth control was "coincidentaly" invented the year after he was born. My girlfriend picked out some pieces for refurbishing: a broken cedar chest, a step ladder and a metal stool layered with paint in a checkered NASCAR pattern. $20. We shook hands and started our journey home.

I cleaned up the Eight Ball and ordered parts - New rubbers, MPU, light bulbs, fuses, bumper caps and flippers. I survived what felt like a heart attack when my roommate accidentally shattered the backglass. I located and purchased a replacement. While waiting for parts to come in, I found myself still scanning craigslist. Another machine I had my eyes on was a 1986 Gottlieb Gold Wings for $725. The price had dropped to $600. I realized the price of the Gold Wing + Eight Ball was actually lower than what I had set my original budget. So I borrowed my friend's truck again. Spray Can and I drove down and looked at the machine. It was in great condition, but it needed a new transformer ($125) and new rubbers. We agreed on $550.

Now I have not one, but TWO pinball machines under repair in my house. The machines are cleaned up. Playfields waxed. Parts are on their way. I am absolutely giddy about getting these things working and playing them daily instead of needing to drive up to Asheville. I'm sure there are plenty more machines in my future, and the only thing in my way is time and floor space.

- Karasch