This is my “new” old bowling ball. I found it at a thrift store in Tallmadge this afternoon. Where I found out that, “everything is negotiable.” The sprawling store smelled of stale cigarette smoke. The overpowering stench was probably helped because the aged clerk was smoking her Virgina Slim as she took me around the store to locate the two bowling balls she remembered they had.  Yes, out of the many cramped rooms of junk she knew that there were two bowling balls. One ball came with a bag, not in good shape. The ball wasn’t a great fit, but could work.  Then we strolled up to the second ball, sitting on the floor by the front door.  I had walked right past it when I entered. It fit my hand wonderfully, and had its own name…Joe H. Smokey the Cashier let me have the bag from the other ball plus Joe for only $9. Brought Joe H. home and gave him a good scrubbing. He’s got some scratches, but that gives him character, He’s in no worse shape than the provided “community balls” at the Alley. You know, the H1N1 spreaders.  No, thank you.

The vintage bowling bag that I scrubbed the hell out of, goo-goned, and buffed with leather conditioner. I think it’s looking much better than when it came home. There were several paint smudges on it. Now they’re gone. It could still use a new zipper, but other than that, I am very pleased with the new “Recession Mike’s” find.