Saturday, I donned my work clothes and went on an archaeological expedition to downtown Ventura. That is, I explored several of the slowly dwindling thrift stores, digging through the cast-off artifacts of American culture and remembering that I'm not as young as I used to be. I found two albums by Loggins and Messina, one of the best-selling rock duos during the ’70s. The clerk — in her teens and looking very much the Goth — picked up the "On Stage (Live)" album, but, unfortunately, the shop hadn't marked the price (50 cents) anywhere.

"What is this?" she asked, turning the album over. "A record?"

Don't let anyone fool you: Age isn't always a state of mind; sometimes it's a ton of bricks that you need to acknowledge. Thankfully, I was able to keep my composure long enough to pay for my purchases, receive my change and walk out of the shop, at which time laughter could no longer be contained.

What else is there to do but laugh when you realize that something that had been as ubiquitous in your youth as pierced body parts, overpriced coffee houses and cell phones are today has as much instant recognition as a pike (a weapon for foot soldiers during medieval times).

Certainly the artifacts of culture change over time. Radios first came as crystal sets, which gave way to tubes, which gave way to transistors, which gave way to iPods and MP3 players, but it's only been a scant dozen years since vinyl records were wrongly declared dead. Yes, they still exist and not just as curiosities in oldies-but-goodies stores. How do you think club DJs create their sounds? They use vinyl records as an instrument. (For an interesting take on why vinyl still matters, check out the FAQs at the United Record Pressing Web site.

I still play my vinyl records from time to time because a lot of great music that exists on vinyl has never been turned into CDs. Songs from the ’70s band Mason Proffitt (its "Two Hangman" should be on everyone's top 10 list) only just came out on CD in February, all of 19 songs from the band's first five albums. The five albums I have (not the first five) contain at least 50 songs, and I only paid a total of $12 to $15 for the lot. And yes, the sound quality is just as good as any CD.

This little bit of nostalgic waxing aside, I was grateful for one thing Saturday. My other purchase was a hardbound copy of Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein's "The Final Days" to replace my tattered paperback version. Thankfully, the price was marked. Otherwise, the clerk might have very well asked: "What is this? A book?"