My shirt was filthy. It was my ‘working on my car’ shirt after all. There were dots of sweat all over it, and prints of my hands where I had wiped my palms on my hips.
“You’ll be looking for Scott” I said to the man walking down the driveway in a friendly and welcoming tone. He didn’t even look up at me, while he read the name on the package in his hand.
“I’m looking for a Scott” he replied to me, clearly having ignored what I said. This was a man that was very no-bullshit, who just wanted to get a package delivered.
I rolled my eyes behind my sunglasses, before I pushed those glasses up into my unkempt mop of sweat soaked hair. “That’d be me” I replied to him, using the same dry pitch that he’d just spoken to me.
He scanned the barcode and got my signature on the screen of his machine, before turning away and heading back to his van.
Any ideas on what this is? And…. for what typewriter?
I was too excited when this arrived. It is a prototype, and I’m hoping that it represents a tiny tip of what might be possible in the future with our ageing typewriters. I don’t want to spoil it just yet, but there’s a tale to be told. The typewriter insurgency might just be about to discover that the future isn’t as grim for their machines as they first thought.
I’m currently doing some inspections on my car before I hurtle myself across the Great Divide and into the desert. When I’m back, hopefully I’ll be able to get to work on using this piece, and tell you why I think it is so special.