Ham Radio’s Worst Operator (And Somehow Still On the Air)

Nobody really knows where Lid came from. Some say he crawled out of a box of tangled coax at a hamfest in the late ’70s. Others swear they heard his unmistakable voice during a simplex QSO in the middle of the Mojave Desert—on 11 meters. Regardless of his origins, one thing is certain: wherever signals get crossed, antennas go missing, or someone tunes up on top of a net… Lid is probably nearby.

Lid isn’t malicious—just terminally enthusiastic and a bit oblivious. He means well. Mostly.
He’s the kind of guy who:

• Shows up to a VHF net with a boat anchor and a bad attitude
• Thinks “PL Tone” is a new energy drink
• Logs QSOs on sticky notes… which later end up under his cat’s food bowl
• Owns six HTs, none of them charged
• Offers unsolicited antenna advice. At funerals.

Despite it all, Lid is weirdly likeable. He’s a walking reminder that the amateur radio world isn’t just about pristine logs, clean signals, and contest scores—it’s about characters, stories, and the occasional disaster involving baluns and open flames.

You’ll find Lid in:

• Cartoons (usually causing the problem)
• Fictional stories (often inexplicably saving the day)
• Tall tales from real nets (loosely based on actual events… we think)
• And lurking near your feedline, waiting for just the right moment to strike

He’s often accompanied by Buddy the Cat, an orange bobtail with more sense than his owner, and occasionally shadowed by local authorities after hamfest incidents.

DISCLAIMER: Any resemblance to real persons, living or licensed, is purely coincidental. Mostly. Probably. Okay, you know who you are.