I remember mine clearly as if it was yesterday. It was a steamy summer afternoon and I was out cruising in my `71 El Camino. Oh what it was like to be on the open road with the wind whipping through my mullet and a cold 40 in my hand. As I was passing by the trailer park a few towns over, I noticed a small bank nestled between a BBQ joint and a pawn shop. I pulled into the bank parking lot and jumped out. My jorts were a bit tight and had to rearrange the package a bit before reaching back to get my comb. With a few strokes of the comb through my windblown mullet I was primed for silver searching. Strolled into the bank and briskly walked up to the counter. As I approached the counter this massively large teller waddles from the back corner of the bank. She must have had a late lunch because she was gnawing on a rib bone getting the last morsels of meat off as she walked toward me. It smelled really good. I knew I needed to be a charmer on this cold call as I didn’t have an account at this small community bank. I leaned up against the counter making sure to show off my confederate flag tattoo on my shoulder which was exposed by my Florida Gators tank top. I gave her a head nod and flashed my new smile (few days earlier had 3 of my front teeth pulled at the dentist). Then I popped the question. She stood there for a few seconds taking in what I had just asked for. Slowly she looked down at her teller drawer. In between bites of rib meat she says she has $10 worth. I told her I would take them and then came the dreaded question…. Do you have an account here? Again flashing my new smile I was honest with her and said “No, I do not.” I could see the wheels spinning in her mind as to what to do. She looked up at me noticing my bright new smile, pencil thin physique and awesome hair and said “Well I have had these for a few years, you can buy them.” With that, I whipped out 7 crinkled ones and 6 half dollars and bought them from her. As I dropped the 6 halves into her hand she gave me this weird look but I didn’t care, I was buying what I knew had to be silver. I ran out of the bank as fast as I could, jumped into the EL and cranked her up. I made sure to leave some rubber on the parking lot in appreciation for them selling me the halves. As I was driving back to my RV where I lived at the time, I cracked open the roll. As I dumped it out I noticed that every coin looked clad except the last one. There it was….my 100th silver half…a 40%er. Awww, the memories. Havent looked back since.