Turn to Stone

She is stamped EME3627. Bally produced only 3250 of these beautiful games in October 1981 and they threw everything they knew into it. This one had done arcade time in the day, then it had been stored in a dank place for too many years. It was October 2021 when I was handed this Medusa to “shop” it ready. Working at Game Exchange the last 4 months with Rob had brought a completion to the line, so some oldies were yanked down from the shelves here and there —basket cases that would require a lot of attention and effort. This one came back from a storage in Missouri.

Her butt was cracked open and the rear particle board was blistered out, and the whole game wreaked of old barn odor. I convinced the bosses that whilst I worked the playfield restore on my bench there, I should take the cabinet home and let it air out in the dry Colorado sunshine on my back porch. I could there too more easily tend to the wood repairs with my home tools. Slow sanding, wood glue, clamps and popsicle sticks (literally perfect for the ply layer sides and securing points for the large fills), wood filler, more sanding, priming, the ass of this girl got solid and shiny perfect and she started smelling much much better. I know too well what good this sunshine and dry air here can do. I couple of runs to a skillful Home Depot paint man, I also had a perfect match to the blood-red magenta in a can, aptly matching the head, the oxidized fade, and the factory fresh hues.*

I had hauled my HUO Breakshot into Game Exchange. Rob had a good buyer for it - a customer of his recovering from brain cancer was buying a sweet collection back. There was also no Capcom testing unit at work there, so this Capcom Breakshot served as a test repair for some other pinball games while I shopped it sweet clean. Then this fighting hero man unfortunately had the cancer return --he could not even play pinball again.

It was about the same time I learned of my own precious German Shepherd’s diagnosis: hemangiosarcoma.

The job had been difficult enough through the summer, trying to get my bones up everyday just to drive to that silly time clock. Leaving my two Shepherds alone for the 5-6 hours was bearable, but cut against my entire gain of 30 years working from home just so I could give my two dogs the complete day outside. Dog door sufficed for freedoms to pee, but the tired human home late made the daily walks difficult. My dearest most cherished life became ill while I wasted time. Busying myself so much for someone else I lost track of the real reasons I wake up and keep busy. 

Like my dad ten years ago, it was aggressive and unstoppable, where only palatial care and time are important. Real life games and I’m worried about some …game.

Empathetic as dog people are, I asked if I could just take the entire machine home and work on it so I could be next to and tend my dying baby girl. When the Breakshot sale fell, and the odd hours repairing the Medusa became brain damage to account for that stupid time clock, I just negotiated a straight trade. Medusa was already dear just from time working on it at home on the porch with Ella. 

It was also a better pinball machine. 

Making sure they all live again, fixing individualized maladies and abuse, overriding the neglect and disrepair, all with tender care and passion. This hobby is about resurrections and love - living for the play and the smile.

So 2021 ended in a very sad death. Despair of unappetizing days set in for 2022 and my 3 year old Shepherd. Thank god I have him --bonds are strong and the living is deeply clarified with loss and pain. My life plan revolves around my German Shepherds, not the games, yet once again a pinball game takes the note of the life and the loss. I should write inside the Medieval cabinet: for Django. I most certainly have written in this Medusa. By the time I could even get back to the bench there and that time clock job I had decided —by my January absence alone— I wasn’t commuting for this anymore. Happiness to put tools back on my bench and start my own clock again.

Medusa sits front now in my shop next to the Blackout. Parts are accumulated and ready for assembly (including a new CPR plastic set to go with the corrected reproduction, properly-sexy, back glass. PinDoctor rotisserie is soon here to put that playfield back sweet (and finally take it off its bench-leaning space). I’ve ordered it in blood red powder coat just to pay homage to this Medusa, and it will break-in good for the 3 swaps I have yet to do. During the duress of the job exit, I had gone over to friend Ben’s sandblaster and cleaned the legs, had him powder coat them black matte textured —just beautiful black. Had him weld a couple of wings to the top of the 2 back box bolts (no wrenches needed), powder coated them the same great black. Before completion I’ll have to decide whether to put the missing Bally hinges back or finagle some some old-style latch (leaning to a Williams interior catch bar). More later.

*Honest decision here, as sometimes you have to make a point restoring something original. The pint of Behr match I have has done the best places well, ie. interior sides, back box, and back side. The left side is not bad and includes the patent applied for sticker, but the right  and front are weathered. I should strip the thing now, purchase the $130 stencil and repaint the entire game. That’s a lot of work in a space I can’t make to do it …just to make 2 more sides “pretty.” Like the cancer and the dedication to this fight against time, I want this game to show its war wounds. There’s a character in this wood and I want the contrasts of perfectly new clean next to perfectly aged fine. I want the player to know he’s toying with a veteran. I want to define this thing we call pinball as —indeed what it is— subjective. It is my game and I love to see the original scratches tastefully preserved alongside the sweet discreet upgrades and detailed fixes. What’s pretty is the playfield and the best tastes for a Bally classic, the game. 

War wounds and medals of honor, never-ending and always ready. 

For Ella