I ATTENDED MY SECOND ANNUAL PIN-A-GO-GO PINBALL SHOW THIS SPRING, a voluntary convergence of pinball heads at the Dixon Fair Grounds. Over 200 pinball machines come in from collectors all over the western United States. Machines are set to free play. Once visitors pay their $20, they can play all day long. It’s a ring-a-ding-ding of a good time.

Three cavernous pavilions were filled with machines pushed together shoulder to shoulder in multiple long rows the length of the buildings. Ceiling lights were dimmed. The rooms glowed with multicolored twinkles and blinks. Bells and talking animations filled the air.

I didn’t play right away. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and took a long stroll. While others rushed to be first to play the most popular titles, I strolled all the snaking corridors of available machines like I was at IKEA. I made mental notes of where favorite machines were located.

Once I had the layout, I wondered toward the nearest machine available to the one I truly wanted to play, if it was taken. I would play the neighboring machine until the next machine closer to my destination opened, then I would jump over. Soon I’d be playing my favorite machines. That system worked all weekend.

My wrists and fingers were so sore at the end of Saturday night that I couldn’t squeeze my hotel shampoo bottle hard enough to get product and had to wash my hair with bar soap. I stayed over at the Stinky 8 motel.

In addition to free play, PAGG had other attractions. Pinball School taught people how to play smart, aim their shots, hit the right targets, and raise their scores. A Swap Meet set up outside on Saturday and people brought non-functioning machines and spare parts.

A curious novice with a few bucks and some electrical experience could buy and restore one on the cheap. They also swapped slot machines, coin changers, old soda machines, and other electronic antiquities.

Some of the working pinball machines were up for sale. Most were not. Broken machines go for a few hundred dollars. Working machines can be bought from $1,000 to $5,000 and more.

Personally, though I love pinball machines, I would never own one unless I had someone nearby who could fix it when it jammed. I’m not an electrician. Luckily, we do have someone in the area because the Pinball Pirate sells and repairs pinball machines out in the Industrial Park. Thanks to him you and I can own a pinball machine in the garage.

Pin-a-Go-Go had repair clinics, raffles, auctions, tournaments. One could win a pinball machine each day for a $5 buy-in. I bought in, didn’t win. Saturday’s machine was Flash, a highly rated one from the 1970s already owned by my local pinball sidekick, Lori.

One could win trophies and fame in the tournaments, which were not for high scores. That would be too easy and flipping blindly could suffice. This tournament was called PinGolf. Players had to hit specific targets and gain certain levels on 18 machines with each ball counting against them. Flipping blindly no worky.

A former student, Jaysin Spaceman, and his lovely wife, Sarah, came down from the Sierras to play pinball all day Saturday. They came down last year, too. We had a good time playing triples.

Experience and advice has taught me that I can’t fully appreciate a machine until I’ve played it many times and tried to beat it. If it’s too easy or too hard, I’ll lose interest. One must spend quality time with a machine. Don’t just play a few games and move on. I prefer machines that keep me busy, machines that send the ball to the flippers and provide lots of targets.

At one point I came upon The Who’s Tommy Pinball Wizard game by Data East. Holy clacking metal balls, Batman, this game had me breaking a sweat. Flippers led to ramps that led back to flippers, with mega points and multiple multi-balls in between. One bonus is a 6-ball multi-ball where a black fan covers the flippers and you must play blind, like Tommy. All targets are worth 500,000 points.

Hits from the Broadway soundtrack are triggered by various targets, keeping the music always fresh. I was hooked and it was for sale. No. No. Resist the temptation. After an hour, I tore myself away.

I played other machines for an hour, but none were as fun. I kept going back to Tommy and its multi-multi-balls. When Jaysin and Sarah arrived, I asked them to play other machines for a few hours, and then play Tommy, and share their thoughts. When we reached Tommy we played it for an hour. Sarah was laughing and jumping with multi-ball fever. They liked it. I said, “Maybe I should buy it. I’m going to play it all day Sunday.”

That’s when we were approached by a 15-year-old boy with keys. He was the machine’s owner. He’d had Tommy in his house for 15 years. He and his dad collect and swap. He was selling it to buy another, for change. He said he needed to leave early. “No! Don’t take it. We want to keep playing it. I might buy it.” He apologized and turned it off.

So I bought it. We played it the rest of the weekend. Volunteers helped me load it into my truck.

Steve Gibbs teaches at Benicia High School and has written a column for The Herald since 1985.