



     All About Used Cameras


                                             By Gary Bryant



          The last time I voluntarily walked into an unlit room 
     with a woman, I married her.  This time was  different. The 
     very pleasant woman at the camera store was going to show me 
     how pictures were developed in the  dark room.  Wait, we're 
     picking this story up somewhere in the middle.  Let's start 
     with  cameras.

          Pentax, Kodak,  Minalta, Nikon and others. You've heard 
     the names;  you've seen the ads.  Most of us have pointed or 
     have  been pointed at with one or more cameras bearing these  
     names.  However, photography has always elicited a  certain 
     mystique, a quiet awe.  How can somebody get us  to pay so much 
     for such a little box?

          The quality  of the camera is only as good as the experience 
     and  talent of the photographer.  In my own case, I've been  
     able to save thousands of dollars on photographic  equipment 
     simply by acknowledging the fact that I know  nothing about 
     photography nor do I seem to have any  talent for it.  Thus, 
     I relegate myself to a small 35mm  camera that I received when 
     I purchased a three hundred  year subscription to TIME  magazine.
       
          Before  purchasing a camera new or used, try to get a 
     "feel" for  taking pictures.  This can be accomplished by 
     standing  near your local point of interest on any nice Sunday  
     afternoon.  It won't be long before you are offered the free use 
     of an expensive Pentax 35mm camera in no time  at all.

          "Excuse me, sir." They might say as they juggle their 
     $750 dollar camera with one hand while  eating a slice of Greek 
     pizza with the other. 
      
          "Would you be so kind as to take a photo of my wife and
     I. We're on our honeymoon." 
      
          The man stuffs the  greasy camera into your hands.  You 
     stare blankly at the  array of chromium switches and tiny black 
     knobs.  All of  a sudden you sense the camera pointing in the 
     right  direction.  You briefly focus your mind on reality and  
     say "CHEESE!" 

          Your finger comes down confidently on the shutter button. 
     You hear an appropriate "click"  only to see the film door fly 
     open spewing 35mm film  down the sidewalk.  You smile and say 
     "oops!" 

           Walking away, you decide to renew your subscription to
     TIME magazine and hope you never have to take another picture 
     until your subscription expires.



           
