Minolta Camera Serial Numbers

Minolta M Rokkor 28mm f/2.8 – Lens Review Today we have a guest lens review. On a star of an M mount lens. This piece was originally featured over on, but I thought it would fit well on here too. Check it out. The end of a tiresome week found me weary, disheartened, and worn out. It also found me stuffed into a small, German sedan with my wife, our one-year-old daughter, and enough bags, totes, and rucksacks to brave it for three weeks in Patagonia. But we weren’t going to Patagonia.

Recently I found a wonderful web page describing all Nikon lenses and their serial numbers. I am kind of proud of the fact that I have an older model Minolta SRT 101. I would like to now how one goes about trying to determining the age of his or hers camera. Bragging to others, and of course general information. I thought that some where on the Internet that some one said that serial numbers on. Used Equipment. SONY 75-300mm f/4.5-5.6 AF Zoom Lens (A-Mount) with Caps - for SONY Digital SLR cameras. Condition Rating: MINT Serial Number: 2225897. Our Price: $119.00. Used Equipment. Minolta Maxxum AF 70-210mm f/4.5-5.6 Zoom Lens with Lens Hood & Caps.

We were going to Chatham, a coastal town protruding like a ganglion cyst from the elbow of Cape Cod, to see eroding beaches and million-dollar homes and lighthouses and fog. And coffee, I hoped. It was right smack in mid-morning, prime time for being bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, as the old men say. But contrary to my usual habits I was not bright-eyed nor bushy-tailed.

In fact, I was exhausted (a state for which the responsibility rested with the mentioned one-year-old now occupying her carseat in cherubic slumber). As we careened down the highway that was at one point made of four lanes, then two, and now one, I vacantly ruminated about the uniqueness of the small, scraggly conifer trees that dominated this odd, sandy landmass that so grotesquely jutted from the mainland. They looked downright prehistoric, though I’d no idea why the aesthetics of a tree would put me in mind of prehistory. No doubt some synthetic memory compiled from a lifetime of movies, museums, and elementary school books. I was about to mention the uncommon looking trees to my wife when she broke in on my admittedly useless meditation, “Was that the exit?” she asked. “Was it?” I replied fruitlessly. “I think it was, right?” She asked again, with equal futility.

And so it was. What can I say? I was tired and we missed the exit. A mistake, but no big deal. There’s really only two directions one can drive on Cape Cod, and we were still going in the right direction. We’d hit Chatham for sure, as long as I made a righthand turn at some point before we hit the Atlantic.

And hell, I was so sleepy that if I never turned and we plunged into the ocean I think it likely that I’d have kept on driving in silent, somber resignation. We’d keep on going and eventually emerge upon the rolling hills of Ireland, which are supposed to be nice this time of year. Processed with VSCO with f2 preset Lack of sleep, an intense workload at the day job, and the crushing weight of running both a camera shop and a content-based website had resulted in serious burnout. So serious, in fact, that I’d actually thought of leaving home without a camera. But as I packed my bag that morning I felt the ever-present pull to make the most of my time, to pack a camera for a future review, to bring a lens that I needed to write about.

Android Bluetooth Low Energy Peripheral Mode on this page. In the end, deadlines and obligation won, but I knew I couldn’t go overboard. I needed something simple, compact, and above all, fun.

Something that would help me engage with photography again without weighing me down. To this end, I chose the smallest lens in my inventory, Minolta’s M-Rokkor 28mm F/2.8, and paired it to Sony’s a7 via a. I also managed to pack a super-compact film camera, the Olympus XA, but that’s a story for another time. Yes, despite my whining I packed two cameras. What can I say?

I love cameras even when I’m sick of cameras. Less than half an hour after missing our turn the family and I were casually bebopping along the streets of Chatham. The kid was awake, the wife was ready to shop, and I was on the hunt for caffeine. Chatham is nice. It’s the kind of idyllic seaside town that many people dream of living in and that even more vacation to in the summer, when the population more than triples. All along the main street, pristine white clapboards gleam in the spring sunshine, granite masonry accentuates noble colonial woodwork, and brilliant hydrangeas burst like fireworks aside the doorsteps of every shop and home. It’s a pretty place.