Bidding on a link to Memory Lane

It was foolish to think I was the only one with a soft spot for Crest Road.

This steep hill stretches from downtown Wellesley and seems to lead to everywhere worth getting to -- Linden Street, Weston Road, and Central Street -- a quick walk to the library, duck pond, and Wellesley College.

So when I heard Wellesley was auctioning off its old street signs, I saw my chance to recapture a tiny piece of personal history.

How kitschy and nostalgic it would be, I thought, to buy the sign from the road where both my husband and I grew up -- three houses apart in the 1970s and '80s -- and display it in our home in Natick.

And it was for a worthy cause. Wellesley had to replace its street signs with new easy-read, reflective placards to comply with state law. So the enterprising Central Council of Parent-Teacher Organizations arranged to sell the old signs as collectors items to raise money for the middle and high school libraries -- which saw their book-buying budgets slashed to zero for the new year.

Bidding at the Ebay-like online auction started at a modest $25 per sign. Pole not included.

At first, bidders seemed interested in just a few signs. Midway through, only Wall Street and Radcliffe Road were doing brisk business, at $150 and $55 respectively. No one had bid on Crest.

After all, it was never one of the fanciest neighborhoods in town -- my parents bought an old run-down colonial in 1974 for $40,000. Today, houses there go for $1 million and more, but it's still too close to town and traffic to be considered truly exclusive.

Twenty years ago, it was a quirky, down-to-earth place to grow up. During the Blizzard of 1978, the neighborhood kids slid down the hill on garbage bags to get to the old Finast supermarket. My first job, at age 12, was delivering Globes to my neighbors.

In 1987, my family moved to a fancier neighborhood in Wellesley Hills. But I never settled into that new house. It was too quiet and too far from the heart of town.

Crest Road, on the other hand, always felt like home. So I figured I'd splurge and bid up to $100 for the sign.

A few days before the auction closed, another bidder logged on. He or she -- bids were all anonymous -- offered $20 more. When I countered, my rival bid $20 more.

Then a third bidder got into the action. But the log-on nickname sounded strangely familiar. It was my father-in-law, a Crest Road resident for 33 years. I called him up. ''How high are you willing to go?" I joked.

For the last 24 hours of the auction, all three of us bid slowly, feeling one another out. Bidding went to $100, then to $150. My father-in-law dropped out. But I couldn't help myself. I went to $180, far more than I ever intended to pay.

But then my opponent got serious, nearly doubling the stakes with a $350 bid.

It was time to let go. This person wanted this street sign far more than I did -- and as I would learn later, more than anyone else in town wanted any of the signs.

Runner-up Wall Street went for a paltry $210 and Radcliffe Road sold for a comparatively modest $155. Overall, the auction brought in $5,000 for the school libraries, and the PTO Council hopes to auction off more signs in a year or two, when the town finishes replacing them.

But who won Crest Road, and why did they want it so badly? I had to know.

It turned out the answer lay next door to my childhood home.

My deep-pocketed rival was MaryJane Kubler, who agreed to go public.

Kubler and her husband, Karl, moved to Crest Road eight years ago, and fell in love with the neighborhood.

Their 12-year-old son, Max Wirka, badly wanted the sign to hang on his bedroom wall. When the family went to pick up the sign after Max's baseball practice a few weeks ago, he was ecstatic. ''He says he's going to take it to college with him," Kubler said.

She said she realizes that $350 is a lot to spend for a well-worn sign, but it was more a matter of paper than metal. Max plows through as many as four books a week.

''The thought of not having enough books in the libraries is just so upsetting," said Kubler. ''I am really worried about the schools, and this seemed like a way that parents -- and ordinary people -- can offer support."

Soon, the family will begin a ''historically respectful" renovation of their 1899 home. (There's one major reason for this -- they need more room for all their books, Kubler said). Max isn't thrilled about the disruption, but the familiar Crest Road sign will help him feel rooted until it's over. ''He's a traditionalist," his mom said.

Good for him. Here is one neighborhood, at least, that's only changing for the better.

Erica Noonan, Globe West's bureau chief, can be reached at enoonan@globe.com.