How did you get into this hobby?

I was walking down 27th street in Milwaukee when this big, long, black Lincoln Towncar pulled along side of me. As I glanced over to see what this shadow was, a window rolled down and a southern gentleman (I could tell by the accent) said "Hey dude, you wanna get high?"
"I don't do that anymore." I said, almost telling the truth.
He chuckled for a moment and replied, "You gotta check out what I got, then you can go straight."
I was tempted to turn and run as my mother had instructed when I was a little boy, but he had not said anything about candy, so I figured he must be okay.
"Watcha got?" I asked affecting my most sofisticated tone.
The man called to someone up front who steered the car to the curb. The salesman got out. He must have been all of 6'-9" tall and tipped the scale at over 300lbs. I stepped back, for obvious reasons. The man pointed to the trunk of the car which suddenly popped open.
"Check this out..." he drawled, or was he drooling? I don't remember it was a long time ago, and not relevant to the story.
My eyes popped out of my head, and my chin hit the ground. It was disgusting. As anyone who lives in Milwaukee and near 27th street can tell you santitation was not a big priority to the city fathers. I tried to look up at the big man but it was not possible with my eyes hanging out like they were. After replacing the orbs into their sockets and dusting off my chin I glanced into the trunk again. The original affect thankfully did not reoccur.

The cavernous trunk contained all manner of hifi gear. I was drawn immediately to the MacIntosh gear by the bright lights and multiplicity of knobs (I am not particularly bright, so such things are very interesting to me).
"That's cool!" I muttered pointing at the MacIntosh reciever.
"You're not real bright are you?" asked the big man in a friendly voice.
"No sir, but I sure would like to get some of that stuff in there. What is it?
"This is stereo equipment." he answered.
"What does it do?"
"It plays beautiful music."
"I gotta get some, but can I listen to it before I plunk down my hard earned paper route money?"
"Of course," he replied "what do you want to listen to?"
I pointed to a bunch of stuff. He removed several boxes from the back of the trunk and handed them to me. I almost stumbled under the load. It was all I could do to carry all the boxes. There were two Klipsch speakers, a B&O linear tracking TT and a Nakamichi cassette deck.
"I'm gonna run home and listen to this stuff, if it sounds as good as you say I'll come back and pay you the $8000, for all this stuff."
He turned around and winked at the driver.

I ran home and sure enough, the system was everything he said it would be. Some of the music was so good I nearly wept as I listened.

I still feel bad about never going back and paying the man, but I told him it might take a while before I would be back. As far as I know he's still there on 27th street waiting for me.

I was in Milwaukee for the weekend and decided to stop by the ole stomping grounds. My grade school was still there as was most of the assorted debris. Even then it was a collecting point for vagrants!

I rounded the corner where I had met the friendly stranger and there was a big black car up on blocks. The hood had long since been pried up and the motor was stripped. The windows were busted out, and Wisconsin winters had obviously taken their toll on the body.

"What's the deal with that car?" I asked one of the debris lounging against the door of a Chinese restaurant.
"Weirdest thing..." the man began and then trailed of starring into space.
"Yeah." I prompted
"Oh, uhm, the car was just there one day. Big old cracker sittin' in back. Said he was waitin' for someone. Just sat there, for years. Said some guy was comin' back. Maybe he died or sumthin' cuz the cars been sittin' there for a long time, but he ain't been around for... years, I guess."
With that the old vagrant belched, soiled himself and wandered off. I thought he left just in time.

I felt kinda bad. All that time the gentleman waited for his money. I don't even have any of that stuff anymore. I thought about bringing the old California Audio Labs Icon Mk II down and leaving it in his car, but I knew romantic notions like that serve no real purpose.

I closed the hood of the car and headed back to my hotel, where by the way Oprah was speaking to the local NAACP chapter. Not a parking space in sight. Poetic Justice? You decide!