Hey, Revolving Doors *Are* Tricky!

I just finished a novel set in the 1920's (almost exactly 90 years ago), and one of the characters lamented "modern" technology.  It brought to mind how I feel like an old curmudgeon, and how apt it is for me to feel that way on my 43rd birthday.  Then it brought to mind one of the books I bought yesterday:  The Portable Curmudgeon.  After I read it, I'm going to give it to a friend who, during a recent visit, told me that people have been calling him an old curmudgeon lately, and he's a year younger than I am.  (Maybe there's something going around.  Oh, yeah.  It's called "age".)

Among his weaknesses, he always had trouble with mechanical things.  They were somehow out to get him, he had decided after many bad experiences.  Even the simplest of devices -- a footlocker, an egg timer, a revolving door -- gave him fits on a daily basis.  But more complicated mechanical contraptions -- a typewriter, a radio, an elevator, the crank starter of an automobile -- were positively seeking his destruction.  (from You Might as Well Die by J. J. Murphy)