One of life’s little pleasures is spotting typos and malapropisms in books I’m reading for fun and on signs I see around town.

A friend who borrowed a book from me remarked on how often I marked typos with “oops!”

The infelicities I find in your writing stay between us.

Here are writing problems I have found in other places: useful for a chuckle or a way to prevent errors before they happen. They show that copyediting really does make a difference.

A popular book on the American Revolution says that “on Washington’s orders every boat not commanded to bring the army across had been destroyed for sixty miles along the east bank of the [Delaware] river.” One could issue commands to boats, but that is not the best word for this situation. The boats are civilian boats, and they are being pressed into service, so the most suitable word is “commandeered.” Later, the book refers to an infamous British officer as “Banister Tarleton.” A different historian says Tarleton showed “daring and flash” as an officer. Maybe he once slid down a banister. But his name was actually rendered “Banastre.”

A Lord of the Rings reference in a new memoir was going so well – until the author referred to “Aragon.” Aragon is a region in Spain. The returning king of Gondor, the obscure man known to the hobbits as “Strider,” the descendant of Isildur, who seized the Ring in battle, is Aragorn.

Caught in an old history book: The author depicts a horde of trucks competing with one another to be the first at the scene of an accident as “a grizzly race.” This wording unintentionally calls to mind an image of trucks being driven by huge, grinning bears who tower over the steering wheel and barely fit into the cab, a scene that would suit a Richard Scarry book.

The word the author was looking for was “grisly,” an adjective that means “disgusting because of the presence of blood or death.”

Caught in many newspapers: Lions Clubs constitute a service organization with a history spanning more than a century – the local Lions Club used to put on the Thanksgiving Day 5K in my childhood hometown – but when writers mess up the organization’s name, they often do it spectacularly: Loins Club. I first came across this mistake in an old newspaper, but that paper is far from alone. A search on newspapers.com for pages containing both “loins club” and “lions club” since 1917 turns up 2,289 hits.

Caught in a recent history book: the term “corporeal punishment.” “Corporeal” is an adjective used to mean things that have a physical body. One has a corporeal encounter with a living, flesh-and-blood loved one but not with a ghost. “Corporal,” when used as an adjective, means “bodily.” Hence, the term is “corporal punishment.”

Seen along U.S. 460: I passed a sign warning of construction ahead.

“Except delays,” the sign said.

I guess this was one of those construction projects they warn you about, the kind that causes motorists every kind of headache you can imagine but, somehow, no delays.

Caught in a recent history book: The author said “bare” but meant “bear.” Used as a verb, bare means “to uncover,” while bear means “to carry.”

A thrilling story of emergency copyediting carried out on the street:
Some people become everyday heroes by making citizens’ arrests, pulling over to fix stranded motorists’ flat tires, doing CPR on a stranger, or foiling terrorist attacks.

I intervene to stop people in the act of making typographical errors.

This morning, I passed a church on a walk with my trusty dog, Buford. Outside, a man was changing the sign for the week. The new message was a paraphrase of 1 Kings 8:30 – but it was addressed to “OLRD” instead of “LORD.” I decided to stay calm. “That’s just his first draft,” I told myself. “He’ll look the sign over and clean it up.”

Passing the church again on our way home, I realized the problem was more serious than I had thought. The man had finished the side of the sign on which I had noticed the typo and had moved to the other side. He had not noticed the problem, and “OLRD” was going to to remain unless someone did something.

Buford and I crossed the street and went into action.

I approached the man and told him he needed to fix the other side of the sign. He jumped, probably wondering who this crackpot was.

He went to the other side and looked. He saw no problem. “You’ll have to show me,” he said.

I gestured with my stick to identify the “L” and “O” that needed to be switched. The man noticed at last and put them right.

And that’s how local fussbudgets were saved from a week of angst every time they passed that sign. Also, our block was spared from a week of heavy traffic as passing motorists slowed to do a double-take and wonder: “OLRD? Who’s OLRD?”

Look for the movie version of this incident to come out in about a year. I’ll be played by the actor who used to play Sheriff Walt Longmire.

Seen on a morning run: a sign for a “dear xing.” If it was not a dreadful spelling error, I suppose it marked the place where a loved one crosses the street or a much-beloved street crossing.

Used as a verb, “reign” is how a monarch rules, while “rein” is how one uses a slender rope to control a horse. On a morning run, I came across a sign posted by a group of activists summoning friends to join them in an effort “to reign in corporate greed.” The activists were trying to cast themselves as the cowboy calming the out-of-control horse of corporate greed, but by mixing up “reign” and “rein” they actually said that they want to exercise a ruling power characterized by corporate greed.

“Croissant” is hard to spell but worth getting right if it’s something you sell. A Burger King I pass regularly apparently didn’t see things this way and nearly drove me crazy by advertising a “crossiant” for months.