Thursday, October 3, 2002

Breaker, Breaker

The other night we had a little birthday dinner for Kimmy, the old broad is 37 today. As we were waiting for the lasagna to heat up, I spied a blast from my past on the corner table in the living room. As I stared at it I was warped back in time about 25 years.

�Is that what I think it is?�

With a little giggle, her mother said, �Ya�

As I sat close to the machine, I was thinking to myself, �Its impossible, isnt� it?�

�Does it still work? Do you still use it?�


In this era of internet and cell phones, here sits a wonder of technology that people still actually use. A simple box with transistors and do dads, and at the end of a thick black curling cord, a speaker that fit in the palm of your hand and once you pushed that button at your thumb, you were �on�. The CB radio.

�Good God, that brings back memories� Kimmy and I exchange sly glances.

Late nights, sneaking out to the Bobcat with a flashlight. Two pre-teens making up exotic �handles� and talking to strange men (mostly truckers) into the wee hours of the night. I guess the CB was just the preamble to the internet chat rooms. You could be anyone you wanted to be, no one found out your 10-20 unless you told them.

Even then we were cautious, if anyone got close to figuring us out, we just switched channels, and handles. We thought this was the most wondrous thing and couldn�t get enough of it. Many a time we looked sheepishly at each other when her father pondered how his battery could go dead three times in one week. And if our parents had had any inkling , they would have put the kybosh on the whole thing.

Thankfully, they were blissfully unaware of our goings on. Don�t you wish you could say the same? I do.

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