Ahh..., when I was but a lad I haunted the thrift stores and stalked around the cameras and records. Being a lad with little enterprise, I lacked finances for a real camera. Nikon, Cannon, Pentax, and Minolta were but a pipe dream that could only come true for another, luckier, person. Then luck raised it's ugly head one Saturday morn as I went out to hunt for my camera love. As I strolled down the aisle, past the Lawrence Welk and Andy Williams albums, I spied a curious stranger. He lay asleep in a black vinyl bag with a flash and a manual. There it was, my answer to all my camera needs. He was called Capital, and from that point, I knew I had found a true friend. He was grey with a funny hump on the top and a shiny hotshoe (and I'm a sucker for anything shiny), a little viewfinder was off to the side of the color optical lens, and a little black advance wheel. My lens had a long barrell with a little chunk of plastic lodged deep inside and three aperture settings (sunny, not so sunny, and generally cloudy). There's something wonderful about a fake. I quickly found that I could cause a look of shock from onlookers as i abused that Capital. I dropped it, kicked it, and sat on it once or twice, but he kept coming back stronger than ever. Ah, how I wish for the happy days of my fake SLR.