I’m not sure how this Amiga Commodore A500 landed in my possession. Probably the same way it left my possession, through an online posting I happened on once. I had this idea of turning space in my old place into a computer museum. I never did. Instead, it collected dust, grime, and surprisingly, no rust. For this month of January, I decided to clear out any old hardware I could. Turns out this was popular…
We’re getting ahead of ourselves.
This will be the first essay in a six-part series. If I reveal the ending too early, it won’t be fun. Instead, let’s cover the minutia because it will allow the later entries to be more streamlined. Consider this the worldbuilding preface to later chapters. I had near unlimited space nearly eight years ago, so I’d cruise online sales for cheap hardware. I told buyers I wanted to set up a retro museum because I was curious about the aesthetic, the potential, and most of all I do still respect the hardware.
It’s just too bad I didn’t grow up with most of this equipment.
I will still keep the computers that I grew up with, or ones I wanted when I was younger, but for everything else, they should be given a second chance. It is not OK for them to sit around in my place, neglected. I had scattered intentions when I was younger. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with my time. By the time I was 25, I had it all; job, house, car. Nothing else to do than just fill that life with things I thought would make me happy. I collected computer stuff since they tangentially related to what I liked about retro videogames.
Parting ways took almost a year.
Owning something eventually owns you. When you walk by it daily, it just becomes part of your life’s scenery. Whenever I rowed, it just sat there next to my socks. It never called for attention. I always felt bad about the side of it that had case damage. It had some sort of story that it could never tell me over the years, and now in this first of probably two years in the apartment-mansion, I knew it was time for its story to be told to someone else.
Although it rattled, all the connections looked clean.
No rust. No major aesthetic flaws. Someone might be able to enjoy this more than I had. I had some enjoyment physically possessing it, as some sort of curiosity. When I moved it in, it along with its unboxed and anonymous siblings sat out in my dining room, further collecting dust. Closer to renewing my apartment-mansion’s lease, however, with the realization that I’d spent most of the past year not actually working toward clearing out the second bedroom I required to store objects like this, it was time to go.
It went up first online because it was the most fragile.
Every day in the month of January, I have a calendar reminder to “Sell Computers.” I was in a hurry to sell it on the second because I was weighed down by a migraine on the first, but from setting up an Intellivision a few weeks prior, I knew that prepping the selling table with butcher paper to have a plain, anonymous background would help it sell faster and help me feel less awkward about showing off parts of the apartment-mansion I didn’t want to sell. I’d from my selling experiences years ago that the more photos the better, and my closely-cropped photos of some items I’d already posted around not getting activity was proof of that.
So I wrapped up the selling table.
It’s a work-in-progress. I figure as I bring in new things, I’ll tape it down further. When I move, I’ll try to reroll the paper all back onto its spool so I can move it and reuse it, since you never know when you’re going to be able to sell something. My general thought process has been that if something doesn’t sell in two or three weeks, where I’ll lower the price every week until it’s free, then I should donate it, but at least let it get a fair shake, as long as it’s worth shaking.
Retro computers are surprisingly valuable.
They are junk for most people, but for the right buyer, they’ll fetch good money. When I bought this, from whom or for what I forget… when I bought all these relics of someone else’s past, I knew that they’d fetch a resale value, just as long as I took care of them. This one never got rust. As I staged the photographs you’ll see in later essays in the series this week, I even thought about how clean it all looked. Sure, the case had seen better days, yet all of the connections looked solid, and unlike the plasticized cable from another keyboard I also posted, this one didn’t have any major issues with it.
Besides the rattle, the case damage, and such.
It cleaned up nicely. My selling table sits underneath my dining room’s light and gets more than adequate lighting. If I wanted to take reselling more seriously, I would get better lighting. Just like my many adventures into disparate avocations, like this whole retro computer thing, I know now that I should only invest in more things after I’ve used up my existing things. What’s the point of buying a whole selling rig to never sell anything? If I can build one to clear out some space, and possibly make some money, why not, right? These photos don’t have to be perfect. I’m only telling the story of this Amiga leaving my possession because it’s an interesting story, has some twists, there are good guys, bad guys, and it’s morally ambiguous at times.
Just like some of my favorite stories, except it actually happened yesterday!
|Sources: My selling experience.|
|Inspirations: With my calendar, Betcal, I can look at a glance to see what I want to write about. This was going to be a MLK essay, but I didn’t have anything enlightening to say, sorry, whereas I did have this potential for a 6-parter.|
|Related: Besides Selling Zeal?
Amiga Clearance A01/06 – Introduction
Amiga Clearance A02/06 – Posting
Amiga Clearance A03/06 – Fitness
Amiga Clearance A04/06 – Selling 1
Amiga Clearance A05/06 – Selling 2
Amiga Clearance A06/06 – Rats
|Photo: When selling photos, it’s important to have a good clean shot of it.|
|Written On: 2020 January 03 [31 minutes, from 5:32am to 6:03am while listening to the FF7 soundtrack, written in WordPress.]|
|Last Edited: 2020 January 03 [First draft; final draft for the Internet.]|