I have a confession to make: I’ve never seen Predator. Or Commando, for that matter. Take away my man card and call me a Communist, I just didn’t watch a lot of action films in the 1980s, even though I was a red-blooded American teenager when those movies came out, nor have I had a desire since. Back then, I was either reading about adventures in the jungle, the desert, at the Poles, or under the sea, or I was out in the woods with my friends having adventures of my own. And I always wanted a big watch. All the cool explorers in the magazines and on TV wore big watches. It was a symbol of high adventure, derring-do, and raw capability. No anonymous lozenge-shaped connectedin those days. It was all big divers, mostly Seikos, Citizens, and the odd Rolex, bristling with buttons and sub-dials and saw-tooth bezels. In high school, I saved up for, and bought, a Pepsi-bezel Seiko diver. My best friend had an analog-digital Citizen Aqualand. We were our own action heroes.
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