I have coveted my friend Bennett’s K1000 for years and envied the $5 deal he found at a rummage sale. Knowing how much I coveted his Pentax, he has been on the lookout for a K1000 for me. After cleaning out his basement he made a trip to the landfill to drop off some junk. Shortly after entering the building he spotted something on a conveyor belt that looked familiar. It was a Pentax K1000! He flagged down a worker and was able to get the conveyor belts stopped. It took some negotiating, but he was able to save the camera from the doom of the landfill. Aside from a broken film counter, it was in perfect working condition. All it needed was a new battery and the light meter snapped back to life. Now that I have a K1000, I couldn’t be happier.

If you took a photography class in high school, chances are you used a K1000. The fully manual camera is (or was) the standard shooter for pimply-faced teens everywhere. Holding the Pentax K1000 is like going back in time to my days at Wentzville High. The faces of friends come back in focus. Walking the halls of the school with my friend Molly. The magic of the darkroom. The excitement of capturing something on film. And that sound! Is there a better sound in the world than the shutter releasing on a Pentax K1000 and the clicking as you advance the film? I don’t think so.

I would be willing to bet that part of the enduring appeal of the K1000 has a lot to do with similar nostalgia that the camera brings back to their owners. People that really cherish a camera know that it is more than just a picture making machine. It is an extension of who we are. As we look back through are photo albums and recall the special moments of our lives we remember that the camera was there. A silent friend, steadily documenting our lives and capturing the light that fills our memories.