Scott Saavedra "I spent my teen years in Newbury Park, then a fairly small town in Southern California with a single grocery store and maybe two or three intersections with traffic lights. As I recall, the only place locally to buy comics circa 1972/3 was the local 7-11, about a mile away from my home.
Unfortunately, at the time there was no paved road directly from our house to the 7-11. The fastest route (and when I needed my comic book fix speed was essential) was via a steep, rutted dirt path. It was rare for me to have cash so when I did (on this particular day I had 40 cents) I didn't wait to spend it.
Even though it had rained the night before (or perhaps earlier that day), the route was muddy, and I was traveling downhill I made it safely to the 7-11. I wasn't so lucky on the return trip. I hadn't gone more than 100 feet with the day's treasure --two whole comic books--when I slipped trying to walk my bike back home up the muddy hill. The comics fell into a great, dirty, gloopy puddle.
I was really horrified because at the time comic books were truely precious and rare to me. I wasn't like one of the neighbor kids who got twenty bucks (in 1970s dollars!) to spend every couple of weeks on comics. I brought my muck-encrusted mockery of comics home and tried to wash off and dry them in the oven but they were garbage.
Though I couldn't read them (a Sgt. Fury and some other forgotten title) I kept both for a long time before very reluctantly tossing them out. Maybe I was waiting for someone to develop comic-saving technology. I don't know. What I do know is that decades -- and thousands of comic books--later I'm still really bugged about the Two That Got Away."