My father found this poor little CD 101 Brookfield pony while bottle hunting in the 1960's. Beat, bashed and broken, I'm not sure why he kept it in the first place. Dad shelved it in his "bottle" room for over thirty years. About four years ago I added it to the "boneyard", a stockpile of common insulators in my yard that I sell for 50 cents apiece. Hundreds of collectors have looked at the "boneyard" over the last four years, but this insulator didn't seem to interest anyone. Then, the other day, I picked it up, washed it off, and brought it inside. It now occurs to me that this one is so bad, it's good.

Howard Banks