I am so thankful for the house I grew up in. Here's what it had in it:

1) Above-ground ball returns. Nothing like targeting the breakpoint and then here comes a ball flying right at you.

2) A juke box with one AM radio-quality speaker that played constantly, even in league, with the default song being a live recording of Chuck Berry singing "My Ding-A-Ling" at a concert in Japan. (Starts off with him yelling into the microphone, "What song is it you wanna hear?" and has a verse sung back to him by the crowd. Plus he was stoned off his a** at the time.) Second most-played song was the long version of Bonnie Tyler's "Total Eclipse of the Heart," and if the owner's sister was running the control counter, Chris DeBurgh's "Lady in Red."

3) Projector-style telescores, about half of them missing their retainer clips. So if you were standing within eyeshot of the screens, you could periodically see the sheets slipping off and then these huge dark hands trying to reposition them.

4) 10 lanes in the house, absolutely NONE of them with working kickbars. Meaning, you have to manually reset the lanes after every shot. At least I never got a fast rack sweep...

5) When practicing in said house, no lane courtesy. Kids all in my lane and approach. I posted a shot at the foul line once and got rolled from behind by a 12-year old who was running out a shot, tripped over the above-ground return and clipped me like a defensive back on a punt return.

Jess