Got this lovely specimen on July 16th this year, on the day of the anniversary of the Apollo 11 launch.
I spied it in a dealer’s case on 47th St in NYC. It passed muster condition/correctness wise with flying colors. But I was really looking for a birth year watch, 1968. So I quickly googled the serial range and there was hope it was a ‘68. The dealer thought it was a ‘67, but admitted he didn’t know much about vintage. He sold mostly new stuff.
So I bought it, increasingly hopeful and confident that it was a ‘68, bolstered by more anecdotal confirmation of the serial range in forums, and a search at ilovemyspeedmaster which gave me a 1968 result when I entered my serial.
Then I went to the OB here in Chicago and requested an archive extract. The system was a bit backed up and my schedule got busy so I didn’t get the result until yesterday.
I sat down at the boutique counter. Opening the envelope, nervously, my heart sank. Not 1968. Not 1967.
September 13, 1969. Delivered to the U.S.
1.5 years after my birthday, and after the Apollo launch.
I had spent the past 2 months wearing the watch every day, marveling at how it had been on the planet for every moment of my life, before we went to the moon, and telling anyone who would listen how excited I was to have a birth year Speedmaster, how I got it, yadda yadda.
Now the excitement is dashed. I still love the watch, but now it’s only because of the condition. It feels like finding out some weirdness about your girlfriend of 2 months, like she used to be in a cult or something. Maybe you’ll see how it goes and give her a shot, or maybe that gets you thinking that she’s probably not the one.
I guess one could argue that finding out the watch isn’t what I’d hoped it was is now part of its lore if I decide to keep it.
I’ve been tracking the price and availability of other 145.012-67s since buying this one and ones as nice as this are few and far between. And 1968 examples are even fewer.
What would YOU do? Wear it and get over it, or sell it and move on?
