With that recommendation about laughing in the face of long novels I've been looking around for machines of this ilk, and I notice a variety of nomenclature on similar looking machines: some simply say "Underwood", some "Underwood Five" and others "Underwood Golden Touch". Even among like naming there are a variety of representations, some raised in various fonts, some glued in on placards. I'm sure this has been discussed before but perhaps a veteran of such discussions could tell us if these are essentially all minor variants or if there is some significant difference to look for.

I wonder what it would take to wipe the smile off one of these smug machines. The Mahabharata? With critical commentary!?  

TypewriterKing wrote:

And as for "wiping the smile off of one of these smug machines," it would probably take generations of people to do it. You could type ten Mahabharatas, and the machine will still outlive your grandkids. There was a story once of a reporter asking a typewriter company, that had been in business for a long number of years, how long did their typewriters last. The answer was, "We don't know. Our CEOs secretary is still using the very first one we made!"

I did not mean to smudge the Underwood escutcheon, sir! I put a smilie on my remark! Here in fact is the pointlessly long version of the joke!

The Underwood, the inkjet printer and the laser printer square off and look at the job: 35,000 pages of double spaced pica. The inkjet has look badly frightened and asks the laser what a pica is and the laser just shakes his head. The contest begins in a wild scrum of paper and soon all three are invisible! After only 5000 pages the inkjet stumbles out and collapses while the laser and the Underwood keep on, the whine of the motor and the clack of the keys the only sign they are still giving battle inside the smoke. After 10,000 pages the laser runs off smoking with a haunted expression on its LCD and is never seen again. The Underwood laughs as it continue to give battle and at 20,000 pages its head pokes out of the roiling paper and yells "Oil!" and it grabs and dives back in. 25,000, 30,000 sheets go by, still the epic battle rages. Finally when it seemed it would never end, there is sudden silence. The last few sheets of paper settle onto the ground and the Underwood is found casually clearing out bits of ink impacted in its little o's and e's. "Heh, heh, heh" it softly chuckles as it grabs another ream to start on 2000 years of scholarly commentary, a faint smile flickering around its keys... It is then that Krishna can be seen riding on the line space lever, for he himself is the typist!

Darn. I gotta get myself one of these things. 

Oh yes, I loved that story!!

Yes sir, I'm glad you liked the story. Those were some bittersweet smilies I fear in the tale of your friend who was killed in the car accident, but you did answer one question of mine in that many of these late standard Underwoods were the same under the skin even as the names and the shells changed. I have a major part donation project of that nature on long term planning and I have the recipient and donor machines, but it shall have to wait for time, workspace, and a foolish conviction that I am up to the task.