My record collection started with a single scratched Fleetwood Mac album from a yard sale. Twenty years later, I thought I had seen every serious record shop worth visiting.
Then a friend in Alabama told me about a place that would ruin all other stores for me. She was right.
Over 200,000 rare vinyl records and cassettes wait inside, stacked floor to ceiling in rows that seem to go on forever. I planned to browse for twenty minutes…