As I walked in the odor of old rubber was still there minus the cigarette smoke. To the left the bar had been enlarged with a small variety of craft beers. When I was younger they only served 2 brands from 2 spigots. There were familiar sounds playing out though some of them seemed more muted than what I remembered. However one particular sound still stood out whenever a ball was rolled down the bowling lane. It was the sound of hope and anticipation for the initial smack against the standing pins that would then scatter out of the way. The old bowling alley I used to go to had gone under renovation. Across all the lanes now hung TV monitors that kept everyone’s scores automatically, accented with colorful animations for each ball thrown. I did miss the fan vent in the middle of the ball return carousel that would…