I, like many, love to wander. I've wandered all around the Pacific Northwest, letting the wind guide my journey, and the flip of a coin when even the wind was unsure where it wanted me to go. A few days ago I went to a small town here in my state in search of something new to learn. With no expectations pulled into town, swung my leg off my motorcycle and took a look around. Antique shops littered this quiet town and so I browsed around without expectation looking for something to pull my curiosity. A small display case with some old coins in the window lured me into a shop. When I asked the pricing on a few I was a little disappointed that they were asking an astronomical price. My haggling must have interested the owner who walked in from the back.
“You know, if these coins are a little rich for you, I might have just the thing” the man said flipping a coin in my direction.
I caught the coin and was immediately confused by what I had caught. It looked like no coin I had ever seen, the words were English but had holes in them like some foreign coins I'd seen photos of. After a few moments of trying to figure out what it actually was I asked the man what it was.
“How long you have, son?” the man chuckled.
I told him I was simply wandering around looking for something to learn. He pointed to a few chairs set up like a living room movie set, complete with an electric fireplace and asked me to sit down. I sat and a minute later he joined me. Just as I was about to ask about the coin again, he let out a sigh and began the story of the coin I was holding. He explained how transit tokens used to work, why they were used, and where he got them from. We spoke for about 20 minutes about the adventure he had received the token from. The conversation started to fade and I thanked him for the story and the information and handed the coin back to him. Before I could drop it into his palm he took his hand back. Keep it, he said. I thanked him again and told him I would add it to a new section in my coin collection for just such a token. He leaned back, looked at me and his eyes lit up.
“How about another story?”
Without hesitation I sat back down, leaned back into the dusty old chair and smiled as the man started on a new story of a new adventure. By the time I realized I should probably be getting home, the sun had long since set and the tea that his daughter brought had been drunk. I looked down and in my hand was 15 small tokens. Each one holding a story of a man who wandered. I thanked the man and shook his hand as we stood up. He smiled and wished me a good evening and a safe journey home. I waved and pulled the door open and before I stepped out he turned to me and said:
"If you'd like some more stories, Ill save the last ten for you."
I grinned back and promised that I would return for story time, tokens or not
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When I started my coin collection I was hunting and searching for silver, rares, low mintage, errors, etc. That all changed with an old man who gave me my least valuable though most cherished part of my collection. It truly is about the journey, not just what you pick up along the way.
