I taught myself to type the summer before I started high school. I used an electric typewriter that had belonged to my grandfather. This was before the days of the personal computer, so typing was not a skill that most kids my age had conquered yet. It was one of my better initiatives.
This morning I went out -- in a snowstorm -- so that I could use a friend's typewriter. I needed to complete a couple forms for the church, and I had put the project off long enough. So, there was no "no go" despite the snow.
When I got to her office, my friend escorted me to a nice little conference room so that I could do my typing. One of the forms had multiple copies (carbons), so I confirmed with her that the "ping" would be hard enough. Then she went back to her office.
I sat down and realized that the typewriter was not on. A couple minutes later -- after I had pressed the wrong button several times -- I finally found the power switch. Progress.
The forms that I had to fill out needed to be typed perfectly, with no corrections. This was due in part to the carbon copies. But mostly it was because the typewriter had no correction ribbon.
I had enough blank forms to get four shots at the first form. That turned out to be a good thing. Before I started my fourth and final attempt, I prayed "Please God, this is my last chance." And, voila! Perfection. (There was an uncomfortable moment when I realized that I had reached the right margin and I still needed to type on that particular line. Fortunately I knew there had to be a margin release. It took a few minutes, but I figured it out.)
I had two shots at the second form, but I only needed one. I owned that typewriter by then!
Yeah, baby!
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