Drop Stop: A Chat with Marc Newburger
What drives someone to invent something? More often than not, it’s a problem they’re having. They can’t find a solution, so they make one up.
Maybe it’s an ailing sports team. Maybe it’s a problem with bartenders stealing money from the drawer. In Marc Newburger’s case, the problem was a dropped call. Literally.
Drop Stop inventors Marc Newburger and Jeffrey Simon
If you haven’t heard of the Drop Stop before, it’s a pretty simple idea: The Drop Stop is a wedge that fits into your car, between the seat and the center console. Its goal is to prevent dropped objects–phones, keys, anything really–from falling into the abyss below your seat.
The story goes like this:
Three years ago, Marc Newburger was driving down Sunset Blvd, waiting for a very important call. “A call that would only come once.” His phone was laid on the center console of his car. When the phone did finally rang, it vibrated. The vibrations sent it rolling of the console, where it “shot down the gap between the seat and center console.” There was no time to waste. Marc began digging for the phone. He took his eyes off the road, only for a second, but it was long enough for him to accidentally jerk the wheel to the right.
In a flash, his “car hopped up onto the sidewalk where a pedestrian had to jump out of the way,” and headed straight for a telephone pole. Impact was imminent. Newburger slammed on the breaks, covered his face and screamed.
But there was no impact. He looked up. The pole was mere inches from his car.
At this point, Marc began screaming something to the effect of: “Why doesn’t someone come up with something to block that crack?!” Add in a few profanities, and you get the idea.
Recently, Marc Newburger, one of the co-inventors of the Drop Stop, was kind enough to answer a few of my questions, via email. So, without further ado, here is the Think of That Blog’s exclusive interview with Mr. Newburger.


In fact- I could have sworn that I did. I distinctly remember saying, at some point in the last decade, “I’m going to find a pair of pajamas with feet. I miss those things.” Someone, I don’t remember who, told me that the likelihood they made them for adults was minimal. That was the end of that. See, if I was smart, like Valerie Johnson, I wouldn’t have given up there. I would have gone on to produce my own pajamas-with-feet. And, if my luck was anything like Johnson’s, I would have made millions of dollars.


