The folding bicycle experiment

When I discovered this folding bicycle on Costco's web site, my imagination exploded with all the benefits it could deliver. Folding bikes can be taken on rush hour GO trains, so I could ride this bike from Union station to my job instead of the subway; after seven weeks, the bike would pay for itself. I work in Toronto, the bike theft capital of the world, and being able to bring a folded bike to my job would provide great peace of mind. The exercise I'd get before and after work would be beneficial to my health. This folding bike could easily be stowed in the trunk of my car, allowing me to park in low-cost or free parking areas, using the bike to complete journeys into areas of expensive parking. It suddenly occurred to me that a folding bicycle was exactly what I needed to make my life better.

I ordered the bike on a Tuesday; it arrived on my doorstep on the following Friday. My first reaction when lifting this bike out of its cardboard box was that it was heavy. I'm talking bend-at-the-knees-when-lifting kind of heavy. Costco isn't exaggerating when they say this bike weighs over 40 pounds; with the exception of the wheels and a couple of clips, this bike is made from chromed and painted heavy steel. Even the fenders and chain guard are made of tin.

When unfolded, the dimensions between the seat, pedals, and handlebars of this bike are that of a full sized adult cruiser bicycle. At 6'4” and 220 lbs., it's important for me to have a bike that's big and strong enough, and with the seat post fully extended, this bike just barely fits. It's reasonably easy to find a comfortable riding position, as the seat incorporates chromed springs and generous padding and the handle bars have an ergonomic bend. In fact, given the price of $139, this bike comes remarkably well-equipped; besides the comfort grade seat, it also comes with a full reflector package, sturdy carrier, full fenders, full chain guard, a kickstand, and even a bell. These are usually options on comparably priced and even more expensive traditional bikes that, combined, can easily cost half of the price of this bike.

In spite of its heaviness, this bike is remarkably easy and comfortable to ride. There are six gears, and they're all geared low to provide sufficient options for just about any kind of hill, making the bike weight a non-issue while riding. The shifting is indexed, and my bike needed a minor adjustment after arriving to ensure the chain meshed with the appropriate cogs, which I did myself without the use of any tools as the dérailleur is a good Shimano. The unfortunate side effect of the gearing is that this bike doesn't go very fast. This bike would have been better with a significantly larger chain ring, as first gear is ridiculously low for the 20” wheel it's driving. As for the brakes, the front brake is a cheap side pull caliper, and the rear brake is a band brake. I had never used a band brake on a bike before, but my first impression was that it seemed adequate.

The bike rides solid enough, but there is some frame flex. I don't think this has to do with the hinge, but rather due to the lack of a top tube in the frame. Overall, the flex isn't any worse than what one might find in a typical steel frame women's cruiser. The 20 inch alloy wheels appear to have come off a kid's bike, which should come as no surprise given that Mongoose does a lot of business making bikes for kids. The tires are cheap, and the soft rubber is easily punctured, but other than that they are strong enough for my weight. It occurs to me that many of the components appear to have come from kids bikes. My guess is that Mongoose incorporated components from their mass produced kids bikes to keep the price low.

Time to unfold and set up takes me around 45 seconds. Time to fold the bike back down takes me around 30 seconds. When folded, there's nothing to keep the bike together. The optimal place to hold the bike while carrying it is just above the pedal crank on the seat post, but even still the handle bars want to flop out occasionally. I recommend a bungee strap to keep it together.

I tried this bike out for two weeks for my commute. I put it in the trunk of my car and drove to the train station, where I took the train every day to Union Station then rode the bike to my job, where I folded it up and stowed it at work. I then rode that bike back to Union station, rode the train back to my home city, put it in the trunk of my car, and drove home. When riding, I felt as though I was riding an adult-sized kids bike. I was certainly quicker than walkers, but people jogging were able to keep pace with me unless I cranked the pedals fast. I quickly ran out of gears even on slight inclines. When I did this to get some good speed out of the bike, I found the brakes faded awfully quickly, to the point of being scary. Towards the middle of the second week, I noticed a new pain developing in my back; it became clear to me that lugging over 40 pounds of bike along with my backpack was taking its toll. A folding bike this heavy wasn't meant to be carried any distance.

Once the “Gee Whiz” factor wore off, I realized that a cheap $99 department store mountain bike offered a better experience than this folding bike. Such a bike could be locked up at a train station and be largely ignored by bike thieves, and I could carry the tools necessary to perform regular basic maintenance in a small bag.

There doesn't appear to be any kind of carrying case for this bicycle offered by anyone anywhere, so this offers no real advantage over a full size bike for the airline traveller. For the compact car traveller on a budget, it might be suitable; it fits in my trunk comfortably with room to spare. Not quite enough for a second identical folding bike (unless I folded down the back seat), but certainly enough for anything I'd need for a week away from home.This bike is really meant for those condominium dwelling recreational cyclists who would like to bring a bicycle with them on their annual camping trip to putter around on the groomed camp ground trails. For a minimal investment, you have something that you can stow away in a closet, ready for the one or two times a year you'd want it. No need to worry about roof racks or carriers. 

No doubt about it; this is as cheap as it gets when it comes to folding bikes, but it's pretty clear why this bike is as cheap as it is. My advice to Mongoose is this: Put a larger chain ring on this bike to give it full sized bike gearing, give it decent brakes to accommodate  and drop the weight by 10 pounds by way of aluminium or plastic components. I can tell by this bike that you build decent quality products, but the kiddie bike gearing and fading brakes were huge disappointments.  As for me, I'll be sticking to full sized bikes from now on.

Bicycle: The Perfect Frugal Machine

Bicycles are, as far as I'm concerned, the most perfect mode of transportation ever invented. They offer, quite literally, a free ride. Consider that even walking has a cost associated with it, and then consider that cycling is up to five times more efficient than walking. Many often regard bicycles as toys for children and weekend warriors, but I discovered its utility as a young adult. Not quite ready to take on the financial responsibility of a car, I spent three month's worth of bus passes on a nice bike that became a reliable principle mode of transportation for a good three years, as I said goodbye to long bus stop waits, transfers, and general slowness from multiple stops and indirect routes. The money saved went towards my first car.

Today, my car has become a necessity. I don't apologize for owning a car, but my daily drive from Oshawa to Toronto has become so congested, I actually get home half an hour earlier if I take the GO train and TTC subway. It's not exactly cheap; using my Presto card, I pay $8.39 on each GO train trip, and $2.65 on each subway trip. That's $22.08 per day, or $88.32 per week for my typical 4 day work week. By contrast, I would pay $40 a week in gas and $32 a week in parking, totalling $72 if I took the car. Of course there's insurance and maintenance, but these are the costs of owning a car which I would pay regardless of whether or not I took public transit. I used to prefer to drive in because of the cost advantage, but now the traffic has become too much. I'm paying a $16 premium because I enjoy riding the train (I've always loved trains), I enjoy not dealing with the stress of crawling along the Don Valley Parkinglot...er, I mean Parkway, and I enjoy getting home a little sooner.

Last year, I brought my road bike to Union Station and kept it locked up there so that I could ride it to my job. At this time, my schedule required me to be in Toronto 5 days a week, so the savings quickly added up; $26.50 per week, $114.83 per month. More than the savings, I also benefited from the well-being that came from the nice bit of exercise before and after work.

This solution was not without its problems. Daily riding requires regular maintenance, but I could not take my bike on the train during peak periods. This meant that, if I did not catch a train home prior to 3:30pm, I had to wait until after 6:30pm. There was always the threat of theft or vandalism. Other than that, it was a fine solution for getting through downtown Toronto.

My next experiment was with the Bixi bike bicycle sharing system. In short, I'd pay $5 for 30 minutes of use. An annual subscription is a much better deal at $97 (plus tax), but I wanted to test the system out before committing. I soon discovered some unfortunate flaws. First, the bikes have three speeds, which are slow, slower, and even slower; presumably to accommodate for the weight of this heavy duty bike. One day, I arrived to find no bixi bikes available at my station, forcing me to walk to another station further away to get a bike. Another time, I arrived at my destination station with no place to put the bike, because all the spots were full. Once again, I had to go to a more distant stop. Then there's the liability; if something happens to the bike while I'm using it, I could be on the hook for up to $1,000. On the plus side, the bikes were easy to adjust and very comfortable to ride, and represent a great alternative for someone who doesn't get much physical activity in their daily routine who only need it to make short trips and don't want to bother with bike ownership. As for me, I wanted to explore other options.

After further contemplation, I considered a basic cruiser. A single speed bicycle with a coaster brake. Without gears or cables, I reasoned that such a bike wouldn't require much in the way of maintenance, and therefore I could leave it locked up at Union Station for extended periods of time. I started by checking Craigslist and Kijiji, only to find a lot of overpriced crap and tons of child bikes. I browsed various web sites, and decided to see what Costco had to offer. That's when I stumbled upon what might be the perfect bike for me: A folding bicycle.

A folding bicycle seems to be the perfect solution. I can take it with me on the train during rush hour, and bring it with me to my job, because it folds up and becomes small. That takes care of bringing it home for maintenance during rush hour whenever I need to, as well as eliminating the threat of theft and vandalism. At $139.99 plus tax ($158.99, shipping included), I would need to ride this bike in lieu of 60 subway rides, or 30 work days, or 7.5 weeks for this bike to pay for itself. It has full fenders, so I should be able to ride it when it rains. Costco has an excellent return policy, so if it turns out to be complete crap, I can return it for a full refund. I ordered it on Tuesday, and it arrived today. I can't wait to try this experiment out!

Fences and neighbours

I bought a new house in 2011. It was a fresh, new start for me and my family to start from scratch and turn it into the home we always wanted.

When it came to a fence, we knew what we didn't want: The pressure treated lumber fence that boxes in small city lots everywhere. It effectively turns a backyard into a self-imposed prison, where enjoying the backyard feels more like being boxed in yet another room. The backyard retreat that I wanted to escape to after a hard day's work became yet another institutional area where I got to cut grass, pull weeds, and stare blankly at the repetition of pressure treated lumber all around me. All of the work with none of the benefits. This isn't how humans are supposed to live. What made matters worse was when our previous neighbours decided to use the fence as a support for a huge privacy lattice (because the fence only created the illusion of privacy), which caught the wind like a giant sail and subsequently pushed a support post over, breaking the fence. As if that wasn't enough, they expected us to pay for half of the repairs for something that was clearly 100% their fault! I had enough. We sold and moved.

I knew what I really wanted: A cedar hedge. A cedar hedge creates the illusion of being out in nature, and delivers on privacy. They're more effective at blocking out sound, and provide a home for birds. When I was a little boy, the house we lived in was separated by a beautiful cedar hedge that grew very tall. I couldn't tell if we even had neighbours from our back yard, and when we went to visit them in their backyards, each of them felt as though they had their own little homes out in the country. That's the sanctuary I want after a hard day of work.

I spoke to the neighbour behind me, and to the neighbour to the west. Both agreed that cedars would be a beautiful way to delineate the properties. The neighbour to the east had reservations, and decided it was too early for them to decide on anything at that time. I did some research into the city by-laws regarding fences, and discovered by-law 77-97. According to this by-law, a property owner may construct and maintain a division fence, and have the adjoining owner "pay fifty percent (50%) of the basic cost or fifty percent (50%) of the actual cost, whichever is the lesser." This by-law goes so far as to define "Basic cost" as the cost of constructing, reconstructing, maintaining, or repairing a four foot high steel chain link fence. This restored my faith in the city to discover that the ugly, institutional pressure treated board fences are not recognized. I like chain link. I can live with chain link. Cedars grow up nicely through chain link. My wife and I agreed that we would either go half on a cedar hedge, or go half on a chain link.

On May 26, 2013, we were celebrating my son's birthday. There was a knock at the door, and it was my neighbours to the east. He told me that he decided he was going for a pressure treated lumber fence. He advised me that the contractor was pressuring him, and he wanted to know if I wanted to get my fence done as well. I reiterated what I had told him all along; that I felt such fences were detestable, and that I would be willing to split on a four foot high chain link or cedar hedge. He explained to me his plans to have a hot tub and wanting privacy. I told him he could do whatever he wanted on his property. Then he asked me if I'd share in the cost of the fence; I advised him that I would pay for, at best, 50% of a chain link fence built on the property line.

Two days later, the contractors came to set the posts in the post holes. My son, who was sick on Friday, stayed at home and told me about excessive noise banging on the side of the house. I looked outside and saw the ugly wall of pressure treated lumber down the east side of my property. I assumed he heard the banging that's normally heard when one is building a fence. We were not happy with it, but we reasoned that we could plant something along the fence that would eventually grow to hide it, and still have our cedars on the other two sides. My wife and I agreed that we would comply with the by-law requirements; we would get an estimate for 34 feet of chain link fence as per the minimum requirement outlined in the city by-law, and would write a cheque to our neighbour for that amount.

Imagine my surprise and dismay when I ventured to the side of my house on Sunday morning to discover a pressure treated board nailed to the beautiful brickwork of my home. I was shocked. I had no agreement with this contractor; I had not even spoke to the contractor, nor had my wife or son. I made it clear to my neighbour that I wanted nothing to do with such a fence. Why is this on my house? What makes a contractor think he has the right to do this to the house of someone whom he has no agreement with?

I'm guessing this is no mistake. I believe this is a high pressure tactic by this contractor to coerce me into paying for a fence that I do not want. I don't know this for certain; I haven't spoken with my neighbour nor the contractor about this. We're not sure how to proceed at this time, but I decided to start by writing this blog post to document both my original intentions and what has transpired for the public record.

These are my thoughts at the moment: While I fully intend on complying with the requirements of by-law 77-97, there is the issue of damage caused to the brick work at the side of my house. How much will that cost to restore to its original condition? My days are busy enough, I really didn't need this to add to an already full agenda. I will keep things posted her as I proceed with this mess.

UPDATE: I spoke to my neighbour, the contractor is "Playin in the dirt." They had their sign out on the lawn of a house up the street. Following is the e-mail I sent them:

I am the property owner of (my address) in Oshawa, Ontario. According to witnesses, you or one of your employees is responsible for affixing a pressure treated board on the east side of my house using screws that penetrate into the brick work. As you may not be aware, we have no prior agreement. Therefore, I formally request you cease and desist further activity on my property and explain how you plan to restore my brickwork to its original condition.

DIY Income Tax - Anyone can do it

How times have changed. When I started out in the workforce, I used to pay someone to do my income tax returns for me. When I went to college, someone introduced me to a free program that would do my taxes for me. I tried this MS-DOS based program out, and was impressed at how easy it was to use. I filed my own return that year, and had zero errors. Every year since then, I had used computer software to file my income tax returns with great success, even when I've had multiple sources of income, got married, and had a dependent. Recently I've tried different things, only to come full circle back to the free software solution.

The Accountant Experiment

A couple of years ago, I decided to try something different. I had some income from self-employment, which entailed some basic expenses I wanted to write off. I was real busy that year, so upon advice of a family member, I decided to let Katrina Morin and Associates take care of my income tax. I paid Katrina a premium of $200 up front, hoping it was money well spent and expecting her to discover some uncommon tax loopholes to improve my return. I ended up worse off than had I done the taxes myself. I got a return, my spouse had to pay, but the amount my spouse had to pay was greater than my return, which wasn't any different from any other year when I did the return myself with help from cheap tax software. What made it worse was that Katrina Morin and associates made a mistake on my filing, which cost me $26 in interest charges on the additional amount owed by the time the government got around to discovering her mistake - an interest charge I wouldn't have had to pay, since I always pay my taxes in full before the deadline. While her associate admitted that the mistake was entirely theirs, I've yet to be reimbursed the $26 in interest charges (note to self, write a letter to the local better business bureau). The following year, I bought the UFile software for $19.99 and did my and my spouse's income tax, error free. The Sunday afternoon I spent was definitely worth over $200 in savings.

What about companies that do income tax?

Every year, the kiosks for income tax processing spring up everywhere. MoneyMart has EasyTax, H&R Block ramps up their visibility, it seemed like a good time-saving idea until I recognized these for the mills they are. I imagine a team of underpaid people sitting in front of computers that are running a program essentially the same as the UFile or TurboTax software I could buy for $20 at a local store. Now I imagine that these people are not just doing my taxes that day, but as many tax returns as they possibly can. Odds are good that they'll process my return without any errors, but it's very likely it's going to be a rush job with minimal to no effort put into finding ways to maximize my return, unless the software is specifically designed to look for it. I don't even know who's going to see my financial information. Let's assume that there will be no difference between my return filed by EasyTax and one I've done myself with UFile. With EasyTax, if I get a return, I will pay them 15% on a return of $100-$300, and 5% on amounts in excess of $300. Doing the math, I will have paid them $58 on a $500 refund, and $83 on a $1,000 refund. If I'll get back less than $100 or owe money, they get to decide whether I'll have to pay them $29.99, $49.99, or $79.99, depending on how complex they believe the return is. Add in my spouse, that counts as another tax return. Of course, they won't do a tax return on someone who has income from self-employment; but UFile doesn't care. It'll handle self-employment income and expenses just fine, and the only people who see my financial information are me, my spouse, and the government clerk who processes the return (assuming it's not entirely automated).

To their credit, H&R Block offers their own DIY income tax software, called H&R Block At Home, which is competitively priced as of the time of this writing. I have no reason to believe it's any worse or better than the competition. Also, these services often provide the money up front, usually on the same day, for a refund, less their fees. Personally, I'd wait the few weeks it would take at most to see the refund, unless I absolutely needed the refund to pay off a balance where I had to pay exorbitant daily interest charges.

Back to free

It's unfortunately increasingly often I find myself needing to rediscover the truths I realized as a young adult, and free income tax solutions is another example of this. While researching which software package offered the greatest value for the 2012 income tax year, I happened across StudioTax. It's fortunate that I've found significant value in free software in the past; otherwise, I would have overlooked this little gem. I decided to give it the benefit of the doubt.

In less than an hour, I had completed my and my spouse's income tax return, at no cost to me except less than an hour of my time (including the time to download and install the software). We both have to pay, which means a minimum $60 if we had someone else do it for us. I'd say that was time well spent.

Why it's better to owe than to get a return

I often see people excited about getting an income tax return from the government. This seems like a strange thing to get excited about, when considering what an income tax return represents. In essence, an income tax return means I've paid the government too much in income tax over the past year, so now I get the amount I paid in excess over the year back in a lump sum payment, without interest. In other words, an income tax return is the government paying back an interest-free loan. On the other hand, if I owe money at income tax time, I didn't pay enough income tax to the government throughout the year. This means I got the interest-free loan from the government that I get to pay back in a lump sum.

How to do it

For a simple return, it couldn't be simpler. We each get a T4 slip from our respective employers. When I run the software, I'm asked some questions; it's essentially "Fill-in-the-blanks." I provide my name, address, social insurance number, as well as this information for my spouse. It steps me though the process, asking me the same questions a professional accountant would ask about things like dependents. After that, I fill in the numbers in the boxes for the respective T4 slips. Each box is numbered; it's a simple matter of making sure the amounts in the numbered boxes go in the same numbered boxes in the program. After that, it's done. I can Netfile or print it off and mail in my return. I bet a trained monkey could do it.

Conclusion

Doing my own taxes is a worthwhile endeavor that's become an annual tradition I recommend to anyone. It takes little to no time, and it helps me to better understand my money - how much of it I earn, how much I'm paying in taxes, and helps me to better manage my money. While I'm not qualified to provide any financial advice, I believe that at least attempting to do one's own income tax is an educational experience that's worth the effort, and software like StudioTax makes it simple.

Frugal, or hoarding?

There is a fine line that appears to reside between being frugal and being a hoarder. My recent exercise in selling things I no longer want or need on eBay was an exercise in defining exactly where that line exists. This week, I discuss as I reflect on my experience.

What Value?

I'd like to start by stating that, while my home has never looked like those on the television show "Hoarders," a room or two in my basement may have approached this level of disarray. Through this, I can understand how a person can get to the point of filling their house; I saw first hand how easily I could fill a room beyond a reasonable capacity. If I didn't exercise discipline in restricting my "Collection" to the basement, I might very well be the next subject on a show on hoarding. Was this a by-product of being frugal? As I pondered this notion, I came up with four reasons that I could account for my hanging on to stuff I no longer need or use: 1) It's something that has sentimental value, 2) It's something I believe I may have use for in the future, 3) I feel guilty about contributing to our landfill problems, or 4) It's something I believe has inherent value that makes it worth hanging on to. Now I'll visit each of these categories to fully explore them in my life, and share my thoughts on them.

Sentimental Value

I'm a sentimental guy. For example, I still have my Pentax K1000 film SLR camera, not only because it was my first good camera, but also because it was once owned by my aunt who has passed away, was a Christmas gift from my parents, introduced me to the world of SLR photography, and was used for taking the first pictures of my son when he was born. It doesn't matter that this camera now has light leaks, nor that I've long since moved on to digital photography. I'll probably never take another photograph with it again. It's the same with many things I've accumulated in my life. Any guest in my house can point to any particular object, and I'll tell them the story behind it. Even the things I buy today have some kind of meaning that relates to something I've learned from my past, and become woven into the fabric of my possessions.

This personal investment I make into the things I own accounts a large deal for the things I've accumulated. They become a part in my life, either big or small, and then become part of my living memory. It becomes all too easy to build memories around these objects; as I hold them, I feel as though I'm transporting myself back in time, reliving a moment; perhaps to relive things a little differently. To consider the possible outcomes in my life. As I hold my K1000, I wonder, what if I devoted my life to the art of photography? I imagine myself as a photojournalist, or perhaps in my studio creating dreams for people. I would be an artist extraordinaire, immersed in a world of creativity and living amongst the revolutionaries of my time.

As these words flowed from my fingers, I have come to terms as to the reasons why I didn't choose that path. I had other goals that were in conflict with the "Starving Artist" lifestyle necessary for greatness, and the desire for me to pursue those paths was greater than my desire to become a great photographer. Therefore, the entire exercise is futile and pointless. I've made different choices in my life, and those choices have been good ones for the person I was at those times in my life. This isn't to say that I can never become a great photographer, but my potential to make that dream a reality will never happen as long as I continue to revisit the past. Only by looking into the future unencumbered by such thoughts can I evolve my lifestyle into the kind of life I want to live.

Having clutter from the past in my life is what really holds me back from the greatness I aspire to become. The memories I have of my aunt, of my son as a baby, and of Christmas mornings can be revisited in photographs, now converted to digital jpegs, which doesn't take up any room. After all, there's no harm in the occasional nostalgic trip to the past; it just can't be allowed to dominate my life. The stuff has to go.

Future Use

I've held on to a lot of stuff because I believed I might have use for it in the future. For example, whenever I bought a new winter jacket, I hung on to the old one with the belief that, should the new jacket get lost, stained, damaged or torn, I would still have my old winter jacket to wear. The problem with this thinking was that I tended to accumulate jackets. In my clutter room in the basement as well as in my workshop, there are plenty of items I have "Just in case" I need them. I would think I'd feel foolish if I got rid of something, and then discovered that I actually needed it a week or a month later.

The problem with this logic is that I cannot possibly anticipate what I might need in the future, and so I hang on to everything that I think I might use one day. Over time, old tubes of glue get hard, and things get buried, lost, and forgotten. In my search for something, I came to the realization that the time I was spending in searching for the item was not worth the few dollars it might have cost to buy at the store. That's when I realized that every time I saved extra screws and material from products I buy, I'm adding to a pile that becomes increasingly difficult to search. At a certain point, I'm further ahead tossing the spare items out, keeping only those that have very common uses, such as wall anchors, #8 wood screws, and washers, and only to the point where they accumulate to a handful. The extra Allen keys I get with particle board furniture can go straight to the trash, and I really don't need to hang onto any extra winter jackets. 

Landfill Guilt

When I was a child in the public school system, I was inundated with films and videos about the landfill crisis of western culture. Mountains of trash, as far as the eye could see, painted a bleak and distressing picture. I was convinced that throwing out something as useless as a broken audio cassette would hurtle my world to that envisioned in the movie Wall-e. In fact, I'm absolutely certain this campaign of the 70's and 80's has contributed to a growing culture of hoarding today. 

I don't deny that there is a problem with garbage in western culture, and the problem becomes apparent as soon as we stop throwing things away: It doesn't take very long before a house can become a landfill. Thing is, I don't want to live in a landfill, but I exist in a consumerist culture. I have these things and they have accumulated.

I now make conscious choices to reduce the garbage I personally generate. I use reusable shopping bags instead of plastic bags. I buy music and watch videos online rather than purchasing physical media. I keep the pictures I take in digital format as much as I can, and display them in a digital picture frame. That said, things will still become broken or worn out, and something needs to be done with them. Old electronics need to go to an electronic recycling centre, some things that contain metals like aluminium and copper can go to a metal recycling centre, and old batteries can go to a battery disposal bin, but ultimately there are some things that really do need to go to a landfill. I have to break myself of this guilt, put garbage in the trash, and use this as a lesson to guide my purchasing habits in the future.

Inherent Value

Now we arrive at the biggest issue: The belief that things have an inherent value. Moving beyond the sentimental value, future use potential, and having eliminated garbage, I'm left with the notion that the item may still hold monetary value. Being frugal, I might feel as though I'm throwing away money getting rid of some of these things that I no longer want or need. I kept saying to myself, "I can put it up on eBay or Kijiji and get some money for this item." 

EBay has an interesting feature in that a person can search completed listings of a particular item or type of item to see what it has sold for. It makes it easy to determine if something has value or not. I decided to set a lower limit on the items I would sell. Anything worth less than $10 would be donated to Goodwill. I soon discovered that a lot of things I was holding onto fell into this category.

I realized that much of the stuff that I believed had value but no longer had a use for was stuff that was either given to me by someone, or stuff that I had bought from a thrift store. In other words, this was once somebody's stuff that they wanted to get rid of. They didn't throw it out because it still had value. That was why they donated it or gave it away instead of throwing it in the trash. They weren't stupid; on the contrary, they were smart to get this stuff out of their homes and lives.

It doesn't do me any good to hold on to this stuff. Eventually, the backpacks get mouldy, the jackets get musty, and stuff that may have been useful slowly deteriorates into garbage. It's wasteful. I decided that, if it's any good at all, I'm either going to use it or donate it, just like other people have done. After all, if it can be useful to someone less fortunate than I, I'm contributing to a better society. I get rid of clutter, someone less fortunate gets something they could really use. Unless it has a lot of value, then I'll sell it.

My eBay experience has demonstrated that perhaps even $10 is too little of a lower limit. It takes time to photograph the item, package it properly, weigh it, measure it, and create a listing. There is expense in getting appropriate packaging materials. There is also the time and expense in delivering the package to the post office, if the item sells. For the sakes of argument, consider the minimum wage in Ontario is currently at $10.25. If I can get the time I spend on each item down to an average of an hour, including the time to purchase packing materials, create the listing, pack the item, measure it, weigh it, and ship it, if I account for the cost of that packaging plus eBay and PayPal fees, I'll be making significantly less than minimum wage on something I sell for $10. 

The truth of the matter is, I'd be further ahead doing side jobs on a Sunday afternoon than I would listing things on eBay. It's a better use of my time and I can earn more money.

Conclusion

Being frugal doesn't have to mean becoming a hoarder; in fact, the true nature of being frugal is the opposite of hoarding. Incorporating frugality in my life has meant applying frugality not only to matters of finance, but also to my living space and time. Needing to deal with clutter has taken me away from the things I want to do, including writing this blog. At this point in my life, I can honestly say I have finally moved beyond my attachment to things. I've spent the past two weeks carting boxes of stuff to either Goodwill or to the local waste transfer station. By eliminating this stuff, I can look forward to a future of continually evolving into the person I want to be.

The Money Mart scam

When I was young, I did all kinds of different jobs. One summer, I did a lot of different work on a construction site where new homes were being built on the side in addition to a regular job I had. The hourly pay was great, but it was terribly exhausting. I was only able to do it for a short period of time, but the extra paycheque was going to translate into some well-earned fun.

My foreman gave me my cheque on a Friday evening. It was $1400, which was a lot of money to me back then. I wanted to leave that night for a weekend of fun with cash in my pocket. Unfortunately, when I arrived at my bank, they were closed for the day. I wondered what to do, and saw the Money Mart store across the road. A big sign in the window promised payday loans and cheque cashing services. The cheque I had was a business cheque from a reputable company, so I figured there wouldn't be a problem.

When I walked in, I was presented with a huge application form by the lady behind the counter and had to present three pieces of identification. I was okay with this process, given that they need to protect themselves from fraud. The lady behind the glass advised me I would have to pay them 10% of the value of the cheque. I choked on this a little because it would mean it would cost me $140 to cash a cheque, but reasoned that they are open later than banks and therefore would charge premium rates. Besides, I reasoned that they would take on greater risk than a normal bank, and would need to make up for losses with these rates. After considering this, I consented and turned over the application form, my 3 pieces of identification, and my paycheque.

I waited. And waited. And waited some more. After half an hour, I was called to come up to the counter. The cashier behind the glass advised me that they would not be able to cash my cheque for me, because the bank for the cheque was closed, so she was unable to verify whether the funds for the cheque were available.

I remember exactly what I said to her, word for word: "Of course the bank is closed! Why would I come here and pay you $140 to cash this cheque, when I could go to the bank and cash it for free?" I pressed her to justify the existence of Money Mart, and she explained to me that if I established an account with them today, I would be able to borrow money from them. I told her I was only interested in getting a cheque cashed, and since she could not do that while the banks were closed, a person would have to be crazy to pay Money Mart for something the banks would do for free. I realized it was a big scam. I thanked her for wasting my time, demanded that she tear up my application, and give me back my cheque and identification.

All was not lost. I had a department store credit card with Sears, so I caught the next bus to the Oshawa Centre. I had a balance due on my Sears credit card. I used my paycheque to pay off this credit card balance, and then Sears gave me the remainder balance in cash. They did not charge me any fees for this service, and were happy to do it without calling a bank. I then set out to have a wonderful weekend.

To me, Money Mart is a scam. A person is better off getting a regular credit card. Consider that, at present, Money Mart requires a person to have a bank account with a bank. If you have a bank account, why would you go to Money Mart to cash a cheque? If you need a loan, they're going to charge $21 per $100 borrowed, with an APR of 521%. These are short term loans, you are expected to pay it back in two weeks. This means if you borrow $500, you'll pay them back $605. Compare that to a credit card; most will charge less than 21% interest, but if you pay off the balance in full when it's due, you never pay any interest or fees. This means, if you need a "Payday" short-term loan, you're much better off using a bank credit card and paying that off the balance in full in two weeks at no cost, versus paying Money Mart $21 per $100 no matter what.

If you're trying to build good credit, you can do that by simply paying your bills on time. That will go much further than having an account with Money Mart. In fact, the only thing I think Money Mart is good for is to take advantage of poor people, making them poorer. My advice to anyone stuck in a Money Mart cycle is to do everything you can to break out of that cycle. When a department store credit service offers greater service for less, you know that it's a terrible deal.

Frugal backfires

Frugality usually results in savings of money and time, but sometimes it's backfired on me. This week, I'm going to revisit those times when my attempt to being frugal backfired. These were learning opportunities, and I hope that by sharing them, others can learn from my mistakes.

Bulk Buy Backfire

Buying things in bulk can be a big time and money saver. It means shopping less frequently, and things purchased in larger quantities often cost less on a per item basis. Batteries are an excellent example of this; while I might pay 3 times for the bulk package of batteries, the cost of each battery might be 5 times cheaper. This only works out if I actually use up the entire bulk pack of batteries before they expire. When comparing a 10 pack to a 2 pack, I'd have to use up six to break even. Generally, it works out for me, though I do tend to prefer rechargeable batteries.

Some unused, outdated tapes

Years ago, I bought a miniDV camcorder. At the time, the miniDV was the best way to go. Each tape could store 60 or 90 minutes of standard definition video, and 90 minutes of HD video, and for the price to quality ratio, no other format compared. I bought bulk packs of miniDV tapes from Costco. The time recently came when my camcorder stopped working reliably and needed to be replaced. I had moved up to an HDTV by now and started shopping for a new HD camcorder. There are no new consumer grade HD camcorders that take MiniDV tapes. Even if there were, I would still prefer one that takes SD cards for the sakes of convenience. I now realize that buying things like media in bulk is a great idea when the device I'm using it on is relatively new. When it's getting close to the end of life for that device, it's be better to buy media individually.

The cost of "Free" stuff

Occasionally, a well meaning friend or relative may offer me something. A piece of furniture, perhaps; or maybe a computer, for example. I used to accept this stuff all the time. After all, I might have a need for that thing at some point in the future; and if I didn't, there may be value in that thing, I would reason.  As it turned out, the stuff would accumulate. I didn't realize how much until it was time to sell my house and move. Any value this stuff had wasn't worth the effort to sell, so I donated much of it, which cost me time and gas. There were some things that weren't accepted, like CRT monitors and any furniture that might contain bedbugs (they didn't, but spreading fear of bedbugs results in a non-acceptance policy), so I had to dump those things off at the waste transfer station at an additional cost based on the weight of the stuff I was getting rid of, with a $5 minimum fee. From now on, I will only accept this kind of thing if I have an immediate use for that thing; otherwise, I'll politely decline.

Cheaping out backfire

Cheap laptop disintegrating after 2 years of normal use 

When I bought my first laptop computer, I bought the cheapest model I could find - the Toshiba Satellite 1700. It came with WindowsME, had 64MB of RAM, had a 10GB hard drive, and used a Celron processor. The battery life was disappointing even when it was new, the operating system was reported as being the worst OS in the history of Windows, and its limited hardware meant I wasn't going to do much more than web browsing, e-mail, and basic office work like word processing and spreadsheets. Eventually, the hinges that held the screen in place failed. I went back to a desktop for a while. I learned from this lesson, and while I made sure to get a good deal on my next laptop, I also made sure to check that it had the features I needed to truly replace my need for a desktop PC and ensured it had solid build quality. Where I barely got two years out of my Toshiba Satellite 1700, I'm still using the Compaq Presario C700 today that I bought in 2008.

I keep this in mind with anything I buy, whether it's a car, clothing, stereo system, snow shovels, or camera. I don't buy more than what I need, but I do decide on minimum standards and check reviews. Some things, like a hi-fi stereo system or camera, may only ever need to be bought once, and if the car or computer I buy is of a level of quality and has features that are acceptable to me, I'm more apt to get more use out of them. If I consider these things on a cost-per-year basis, a $700 laptop that lasts 5 years is a better deal than a $500 laptop that lasts 2 years. A $24,000 car that I like and keep for 12 years is better overall than a $12,000 car that I'll want to get rid of after 5 years.

The Bargain Bin backfire

Watched once, twice at most, now gathering dust

I used to peruse the bargain bins all the time, in search for video tapes to add to my collection. When DVD's made VHS obsolete, I searched those bins for DVD movies. Now I've had to get rid of those VHS movies and now have shelves full of DVD movies I never watch, because I've watched them once and now wish to watch something new and different on Netflix. As it turns out, the cost of Netflix is similar to that of a bargain bin movie every month, with much greater selection. 

When cheap "Lite" Internet access isn't

Once upon a time, I thought I'd save some money by subscribing to a "Hi Speed Internet Ultra-Lite" package. It was the cheapest package, and offered a 2GB bandwidth limit. What I failed to realize was that overage charges were $5.00 per gigabyte, and it didn't take much before I was paying more for "Ultra-Lite" than I was for the higher tiered "Extreme" package. As it turns out, it doesn't take very many OS updates these days to hit that 2GB bandwidth limit.

The high cost of used

I used to shop at Value Village, until I discovered I could get some items they sell for less money brand new at places like Costco and Wal-Mart. Not to mention the unwanted extras that might come with used clothing, like ringworm. This is a case where it pays to shop, and not assume that a thrift store is really going to be thrifty. This was recently covered at another frugal web site I enjoy reading, Squawkfox (click here to read).

Conclusion

There are cases where frugalism can be taken too far. Like everything else in life, it's about finding a balance. I'm still learning, but am glad to have had the opportunity to learn from my mistakes. I hope others can as well.

Keeping dinosaurs alive

Recently, my wife was looking into a magazine subscription, in order to keep up with current trends in her industry. I wanted to see what the difference was between her getting a traditional "Pulp" based subscription and having a magazine mailed out to her every month, and a modern "Digital" subscription where it would electronically be sent to her e-reader. Imagine my surprise when I discovered there was absolutely no difference in price between the two! Naturally, she went for the paper-based subscription, because this provides her with a commodity which she can exchange with co-workers. When she's done reading her trade magazine, she can exchange it for another trade magazine with a co-worker who has a subscription to a different publication. She also has something reasonably up-to-date to leave out for clients. Neither of these are possible with a digital version. This state of affairs seems odd to me. I would think that, given the materials and labour involved in the publication and delivery of a paper-based version, and given the inherent value of the paper-based magazine, shouldn't a digital version cost significantly less? I decided to look deeper.

Newspapers, books, and music

I decided to look into a newspaper subscription for my own eReader. A monthly digital subscription to the Toronto Star costs $16/month. However, 7 day home delivery costs $3.69 a week. That works out to $15.99 a month. That's a penny cheaper! It doesn't make sense, given that, these days, newspaper articles and ads start out in digital format before they go to the press; eliminating the cost of printing and delivery should result in even a couple of dollars in savings. 

Gail Vax-Oxlade, one of our favourite TV personalities from our favourite TV show "Til debt do us part," just published a book, "Money Rules." Even though the MSRP is $21.99, my wife picked this up at Costco for around $14.00. From kobo.com, this same book costs $13.99 in digital format, pretty much exactly the same price. 

The same thing is happening in music. Purchasing a digital album online can sometimes cost more than going to Wal-Mart or FutureShop and buying the CD. As a consumer, I'm feeling as though I'm getting hosed. What's really going on?

It's paid for, and it's an asset...for now...

The first thing I came to realize is that the equipment used to manufacture books, newspapers, and compact discs have already been paid for many times over. The machines that stamp out compact discs and churn out pulp en masse represent corporate assets out of reach of most people. When a corporation lists its value, it includes these assets in that valuation. It would not do for these assets to be suddenly rendered worthless as they become obsolete; the value of the giants in these industries would plummet. This would suddenly put these large corporations on equal ground with smaller upstarts, and force them to compete on a level playing field; something they have not had to do for over a century. 

The actual cost of publishing is also easily absorbed. Metro News, touted as "Canada's most read national daily newspaper," is free. The cost of publication is paid for by the advertisers. In fact, it's common in many cities to find free publications filled with advertisements that pay for the printing and distribution of that publication. Again, with equipment already paid for many decades ago, this business model actually works, not unlike broadcast TV. We often consider the expense of publishing a newspaper, magazine, book, or compact disc based on what it would cost us, but the economies of scale have rendered these expenses negligible on a per customer basis.

There are people involved as well. All of the people involved in the process, who are likely paying for the pensions of those who paid for the pensions of the pioneers of their industry. Let's face it; if printing presses were to shut down due to cheap digital media, those people would be out of work. There would not be enough room in the digital world to absorb them. They would be forced to retrain and look for other work while those enjoying a pension would be forced to scale back their retirement dreams, such as they are.

Compact Discs: An unfulfilled promise

Vinyl from a bygone era

I can remember when compact discs first came out. Prior to compact discs, we had audio tapes, vinyl albums, and vinyl singles. In 1985, A record album typically cost around $10, and a popular single cost around $1-$2. The music industry introduced compact discs which cost double that of their equivalent LP, and offered no substitute for the single 45. All vinyl would be phased out. The music industry promised us that, as the cost of the new technology to manufacture compact discs was paid off, the price of compact discs would drop. Eventually, they would cost less than an LP but more than a single, but on average would offer us better value. As such, there was no plan on replacing the 45 RPM single. Unfortunately, the prices of compact discs remained high even after vinyl disappeared, and consumers were forced to buy albums full of crappy songs just to get the one or two they wanted. Only when MP3's and Napster came along did the record industry finally realize their artificially high prices were driving people to piracy, and finally fulfilled their promise of cheaper CD's (though not much cheaper) and delivered our desire for a single costing $1-$2. 

What to do?

Mix tape: The frugal answer before MP3

In my journey of discovery, I've come to realize that paper based books and magazines, as well as compact discs, represent inherent value as a commodity to people who buy them. They are something that can be legally traded or sold after they have been purchased. That value is not in the material, or medium, of which it is made, but rather the content. The medium simply makes the sale or exchange of the media legal. The Economies of scale render the cost of the physical medium to be negligible at best, except in cases where there are limited production runs; in which case, we do see the real cost. 

Digital media has its own tangible benefits to consumers; the contribution to a clutter-free lifestyle and convenience are two big advantages. However, digital subscribers do inevitably need to subsidize the ageing infrastructure of publication. This is, after all, what these corporations are built on. If we want to buy their products, we need to play their game by their rules. There is an alternative.

Remember when I suggested that the sudden obsolescence of a printing press would put these companies at the same level as an upstart? I am suggesting that these upstarts should earn the business of a digital-only consumer. When it comes to magazine publications, consider switching to an ezine. Like the Metro news paper, the ad revenue pays for these publications, and the greater the number of subscribers, the greater the ad revenue, and the greater an ezine can grow. 

The same can be done with music and books; it's a matter of finding something you like in the creative commons or from independent labels. The trouble is, most of us have been brought up listening to music that is owned by the big old companies that conspire to keep the world from moving into a future without a need for them. Thus, if you want Pink Floyd, you will be subsidizing a dinosaur. If you're looking forward to discovering new music, consider something like Google Play that allows artists to market their music without needing a label. At least the books we love eventually fall into the public domain and end up available for free from Project Gutenberg.

Conclusion

The world is changing, and that driving force is us. The choices we make dictate the direction of those changes. The Internet and digital media has liberated us from the hold of a few large rich corporations who would like nothing more than to fleece us. By making a conscious choice in embracing the digital revolution and giving our attention and business to those small upstarts, we democratize information and media. Not necessarily a good thing for large corporations and those who find themselves entangled with those corporations and unwilling to change, but definitely a good thing for us as consumers.

I should add that both the music industry and the publishing industries have suffered great losses over the years. I myself have worked in industries that saw a rapid decline in jobs on three separate occasions, on three separate unrelated career paths. The effects of dinosaurs going extinct on the working class is very near and dear to me, and is all the more reason for choosing a frugal lifestyle and embracing future technology today. The ability to adapt and change is easier with frugality, and the ability to deliver each other things that are relevant and of value are key.

eBay for the frugal

EBay is an online auction service which has earned a mixed reputation among the frugal minded. For some, it can be a great way to save some money when buying something. For others, it represents a minefield of scams. Some may have found themselves bidding far too much for a wanted item. Whatever the case may be, I've discovered how to make eBay work for me.

Reduce clutter, get what I really want

Here's my issue: I currently have stuff that I never use, but I also don't want to get rid of because I believe it holds inherent value. I tend to hang on to things because I think that I might be able to use it someday, or perhaps someone I know will have a need for it. Another issue is that there are things I'd like to get. A new HD camcorder is currently on my "Want" list, with my son's upcoming graduations and the fact that my old SD tape-based camcorder isn't as dependable as it once was. Can I reduce clutter and get what I want? You bet.

The "Completed Listings" option under advanced search

With eBay, I can turn the stuff I don't want into stuff I do want. At the same time, I can determine what really has value and what doesn't. It works like this: I take something I feel has value but which I will probably not use anymore, and search for it on eBay. I started by creating a PayPal account and an eBay account. I then checked to see if there were similar items for auction, and then did an advanced search for finished listings to see if any had sold recently. That gives me an idea of what it's worth. I then take four to six pictures of the item and combine them into one, and put it up for auction starting at around the lowest price I've seen similar items sell for. I always make sure this opening auction price will absorb the cost of packaging, so I don't need to artificially inflate shipping costs, because I believe that turns people off. I enter the dimensions and weight of the package so buyers can see the cost of shipping to their destination. When the auction is over, I print the shipping labels (automatically generated for me), box it up, tape on the label, and drop it off at the nearest postal outlet.

One of the items I listed and sold

If something doesn't sell, I re-list it and continue to sell it among other things. Eventually, I accumulate a collection of stuff that isn't selling, and accumulate money in my Paypal account for the stuff that is selling. When I'm done, I'll have enough money to either offset the cost of a new camcorder significantly, or to outright buy a new camcorder. I've also learned which stuff isn't worth selling. If I still think it's of use to someone, I'll donate it to Goodwill. Obviously, I'll throw out anything I think is complete garbage.

There is a certain amount of time involved in this process, but it is especially rewarding when something sells for more than I thought it would have. I haven't been spending too much time on it, but so far I've accumulated over $130 in my Paypal account over the past couple of weeks. Of course, I am discriminating at what I sell; selecting only those things I'm certain holds value to collectors. I have no doubt that, by the time my son graduates, I will have reduced a lot of stuff down to the HD camcorder I really want.

ISP alternatives

In the days of dial-up modem connections, we had variety when it came to choosing an internet service provider. Of course, this was contingent on us having a local telephone line, which was generally monopolized by Bell, and it was often the case that my phone bill would be higher than my internet bill.  Back in those days, our usage was measured in the amount of time connected, and it was often the case that the smaller companies were more generous with the cost of this time than were the ones ran by large companies.

A 9600 baud modem from the early days of Internet

These days, I pay for bandwidth, because I am always connected with modern high speed internet service. This market became monopolized in my area by Bell and Rogers, because they are largely responsible for the lines that come into our homes, the expense of which have been long paid for by us consumers. It wasn't long before I was paying more for a basic internet connection than I was for my home phone service. Internet based technology advanced to the point where it became viable for telephone and television content to be carried on that internet connection. Recognizing this threat to their existing phone and television content businesses, Bell and Rogers placed artificial caps on their high speed internet service, and have employed "Bandwidth shaping" techniques making the use of online content streaming and telephony services impractical and expensive. In essence, the Internet provides an infrastructure that is good for a frugal person, but what is good for my savings account is not good for Bell and Rogers, and so they play these games with their caps and bandwidth shaping to keep their phone and television content services artificially viable.

The case for alternatives

As it turns out, the lines installed by Bell and Rogers, paid for by people like me, exist on public property, and companies like Teksavvy have successfully argued in court that the use of these lines should be open to competition. As a homeowner, I have paid for the cable and telephone lines running across my property, into my home, and throughout my home, so those are owned by me. This competition is good for the consumer, because a company like Teksavvy doesn't have a traditional home phone and television content division to protect. There is also the fact that Bell and Rogers both have shareholders to take care of; shareholders that don't add any value to me, so the shareholder-free companies can offer the same services at much more competitive rates.

My own ADSL modem, no fees

The first advantage is the fact that alternative companies like Teksavvy allow me to use my own equipment. To put this into perspective, Bell and Rogers browbeat their customers into paying, at minimum, a $4/month rental fee for a modem. $4 a month doesn't sound like much until you realize you can go to Canada Computers and buy a good quality D-Link DSL modem for $30. After seven months, it pays for itself. A common argument is that, if anything goes wrong, you get a replacement covered, but these modems have a one year warranty and usually last forever, so it's pure profit for Bell and Rogers, and pure expense for me. They know it, which is why they'll offer to waive the rental fee for a limited time whenever I complained, hoping I'll forget after a few months.

The second advantage is the reasonable bandwidth cap. With a 300GB cap, I can utilize an economical on demand video delivery service like Netflix ($8/month), which also eliminates the need for a costly PVR. It also provides a viable inexpensive alternative to my home phone. I can get local content in HD with a regular UHF antenna.

A third advantage is the fact that there is no contract. Want to leave the country for a couple of months? Run into some tough financial times, and need to disconnect Internet until finances look better? Call them up and stop service whenever you want, start it back up whenever you want. No penalty to break a contract. Having this option for a plan "B" is very important to me.

Fourth, it is generally less expensive overall. Rogers and Bell may offer a better rate over a very limited short term, but it's usually limited in other respects, like bandwidth capacity. With Teksavvy, it's a good rate that's consistent.

Fifth, services like Netflix and Skype work better, because Teksavvy isn't actively "Shaping" the bandwidth. This opens the door to further savings with alternative home phone service and TV content.

Conclusion

Alternative providers like Teksavvy might not be available in your area, but if they are, it's to your advantage to make use of this Bell/Rogers competitor. If they're not, try to fight for your right to use your own hardware to eliminate the rental fees. In any case, it's always worthwhile to negotiate, because quite often you can realize discounts, even if they're only for a short period of time.

The death and rise of film

Recently, there seems to be a resurgence of film photography. Everywhere I look, I can't help but see blog after blog advising everyone of the merits of film photography over digital. I understood this was true over ten years ago, but many of these photographers were making these observations over the past couple of years. Did I miss something? Was I wrong to abandon film and switch to digital photography? I still have my film SLR's, and decided to explore my own personal relationship with photography to understand the reasons why I, and so many other people, made the switch to digital, and to see if film might be a viable alternative today.

The case for film: Early years

My son at 7 months

I've been using cameras for a very long time. I started out, like most people of my generation, with a 110 camera. My father gave me a Pentax K1000 for Christmas in the early 1980's. I used this camera to take baby pictures of my own son in the late 1990's. At the time, it seemed sensible: Digital cameras were cumbersome, expensive, and limited, only able to capture images at one megapixel or less with terrible low light performance. In contrast, my K1000, loaded with ISO 800 film and shooting through a fast F1.7 50mm lens, could take beautiful, high resolution handheld shots in very low light without needing a flash. I found the experience very satisfying and even gratifying. The ability to capture very high quality images without popping a flash into baby's newborn eyes felt empowering as it created a special bond between father, baby, and camera. Using a manual camera with natural light made the entire process feel very natural. The possibility of that camera becoming a family heirloom became very real to me. The camera and lens was just over 20 years old; I reasoned that, mechanically and optically, it was possible for my camera to last for a hundred years if it was taken care of. This realization caused me to buy my second film SLR, a Pentax P3n, so that I could better preserve my K1000 for future generations.

The case for digital: Discovering advantages

My Pentax K1000 film SLR

By the time 2001 rolled around, the digital photography world had changed significantly. Up until this point, I would shoot pictures in rolls of 24. I would start by deciding which film to buy: ISO 100 for outdoors, ISO 400 for indoors, ISO 800 for low light; the higher the ISO, the greater the grain and the lower the image quality. If I didn't load ISO 400 in one camera body and ISO 100 in the other, I'd usually go for ISO 200, a middle-of-the-road film not great at anything but not disappointing either. I often took two or three shots of people at events, just in case someone blinked. If I still had frames left on a roll after an event, I would shoot off some random pictures to finish the roll so I could get it developed. I had to pay for 24 4x6 pictures each time. Most of them turned out fine, but I ended up keeping more than I had to just because throwing out a perfectly good picture seemed wasteful, even if it was a near duplicate of another. This was all assuming the film I had used didn't go bad or expire; a couple of rolls of cheap film bought in haste resulted in some pretty crummy vacation photographs. Photo albums, representing another expense of money, time, and space, would fill up and occupy increasingly more shelf space. My experimental creative photography endeavours were saved for the end of rolls used at events or on trips, because buying and developing a roll of film was an expense that needed to be justified. To share pictures with friends and family, I had to spend time with a scanner and software, scanning the pictures in one at a time and sizing them down to attach to an e-mail. This process could take hours.

A shot taken with my Fuji Finepix A201 digital camera

Some very affordable and well-designed 2 megapixel point-and-shoot digital cameras came into the market in 2001, with significant price drops during the holiday season. The pictures could be printed out at 8x10 size and still look sharp, and while the sensitivity of the sensor, typically at ISO 100, was a far cry from ISO 800 film, it performed adequately well for close indoor snapshots with its built-in flash and exceptionally well outdoors on well-lit days. The benefits were immediately obvious. When the Fuji Finepix A201 came into our family as a gift from my father, many of the shortcomings of film fell away. I wasn't restricted to a batches of 24 pictures at a time, and I could see right away if someone had blinked by checking the picture on the LCD display on the back of the camera. If everyone looked great on the first shot, there was no need to waste everyone's time for another. I could pick and choose to have printed only those pictures I really liked. Of course, I'd still keep all of the shots that turned out, but most would remain in digital format; as compressed JPEG's, they took up very little space. The pictures were so much more brilliant and clear, with no dust. Photo albums that were once a chore to put together became highlights of our lives; instead of page after page of similar pictures, they held only the best few pictures to mark those milestones in our lives. I could explore experimental creative photography with reckless abandon. I could spend an entire day taking some very bad pictures as I explored the limits of this little point-and-shoot camera, and ended up with a few interesting gems at no expense to me. Suddenly, photography became a hobby that even the most frugal person could enjoy. It was more than instant gratification; the lack of expense of buying film combined with the lack of waste made digital cameras well worth their higher price tags.

Cheap digital photography progress

Easter lilly, taken with my Kodak DX6490

Over the years, prices dropped and features were added to digital cameras. By 2005, the savings in film and development were significant enough that we could afford to upgrade to a 4 megapixel superzoom camera, the Kodak DX6490, which was representative of many of the affordable superzooms available at the time. With an ISO that ranged from 80 to 800, the problem of choosing appropriate film was solved. Just like film, a higher sensitivity (ISO) resulted in more noise (grain). Further increasing the versatility of this camera was an impressive macro-capable lens with an equivalent zoom range of 38mm-380mm that had a versatile automatic or manual aperture range from F2.8 to F8. With a manual or automatic shutter speed that ranges from from 16 seconds to 1/1000th of a second, excellent low light focus capability, a great built-in flash, and with a compact size, this replaced both our point-and-shoot as well as my Pentax SLRs, as the resulting prints were amazingly clear and brilliant with colour. My household stopped using film entirely, and my SLR's got packed away. At the same time, my skills were improving. The instant feedback allowed me to further experiment into greater depth in the world of photography. This camera had limitations; the zoom lens didn't compare to a prime lens for image quality (but was still very good), the focus tended to be slow, and there was no way to adjust the JPEG quality nor the ability to shoot RAW, but these limitations were greatly overshadowed by the fact that it cost me nothing to shoot as much as I wanted for free, in addition to the benefit of instant feedback inherent in digital cameras. Instant feedback differs from instant gratification in that it enhances the learning process, with a result lasting well beyond the short-term effects of instant gratification. Did I also mention, no dust?

Enter the affordable DSLR

Dragonfly, captured with my Pentax K-x

Five years later, the price of digital SLR's came down significantly. With further savings realized from shooting exclusively digital over those five years, I was able to afford the Pentax K-x. While the Kodak superzoom is still in use in our household to this day (a testament to its build and image quality), I remained aware of its limitations having had extensive experience with SLR photography. I missed the image quality of prime lenses. I often wished I had a wider angle of view than 38mm. I didn't like the shutter lag of the Kodak super zoom. I would have liked to be able to hold the shutter open for longer than 16 seconds. I desired better manual control over the focus. I missed my fast 50mm lens, being able to open it to F1.7 with a beautifully thin depth of field, and I also missed being able to use my collection of 49mm filters. I still had those lenses and filters, and knew they worked on the new Pentax DSLR. Further, this new Pentax camera was boasting incredible ISO, up to 12,800, provided image stabilization to any lens attached to it, promised beautiful HD video, and eliminated the problem of shutter lag. The door to creative exploration didn't exist anymore; it was blown clean off its hinges, as this camera transported me into a world of endless creative exploration.

Old lenses and filters still work today

I discovered a trade-off with using the older lenses; and that is the crop factor. The sensor in the camera is smaller than that of a full frame negative, resulting in a 1.5 crop factor. This means that my 50mm lens becomes a 75mm lens, my 28mm lens becomes a 42mm lens, my 17mm lens becomes a 25.5mm lens, and my 80-200mm zoom becomes a 120-300mm zoom. I acquired other lenses recently; a 40mm pancake becomes a 60mm lens, and a 135mm lens becomes a 202.5mm prime lens. The Pentax K-x came with a kit lens with a range of 18-55mm, which translates to a very useful 27mm-82.5mm.

Rediscovering film

After reading blog posts about how superior film is in 2012, I decided to take my film Pentax cameras out of storage and shoot using my newly acquired lenses in their full frame glory during the holidays. Loaded with Fuji 200 and a fresh set of batteries in the old flash, I enjoyed holding and using these cameras once again, relishing their simplicity. The relationship between aperture and shutter speed, and watching it translate to the needle showing me the optimal exposure point was a treat. Utilizing the focus screen with a split circle, I was reminded at how bright and effective it was. Overall, the process was a little slower as I double checked to make sure all the settings were correct. Put the flash on the appropriate automatic setting, check. Set the shutter speed to sync with the flash, check. Make sure the F-stop matched the ISO and distance in the chart painted on the back of the flash, check. Focus, check once, check twice, recompose, squeeze the shutter release, and...forgot to wind the film. Wind the film, check the focus once more, recompose, squeeze the shutter release, ker-klunk. That satisfying mechanical movement as the spring, wound by my advancement of the film, released its energy in a split second to paint a frame of film with the light and colours I had just composed. I started thinking that I could learn to love film again.

Negatives

My wake-up call started when I discovered that the only place in town that would develop my film was the local Wal-Mart, and that it cost me 65 cents per picture, for each and every picture on the roll, whether I wanted it or not, for developing. The second thing I discovered was that the K1000 seems to have developed a very small small light leak. The P3n performed fine, however. In the end, factoring out the light leak in the K1000, seven shots were underexposed, five were out of focus or blurry, and four featured someone with their eyes closed. I paid $10.40 for bad or useless shots that I would have otherwise deleted. Out of the rest, I might have really wanted just under half of them. In other words, I paid a total of $37.46 for, at best, 16 4x6 prints that I would have wanted to keep and print. That works out to $2.46 per 4x6 print. At that price, expensive ink jet printed pictures seem a bargain.

Staples had their photo basic glossy 4x6 paper on for $5.99. I bought two packs for a total of $13.54. That works out to 6.77 cents per picture, plus my ink costs. The ink costs may vary, but I estimate it won't be greater than 20 cents per 4x6 print. If I wanted to, I could get a local "Dry" lab to produce 4x6 prints for me for around 10 cents a print. That's 6 and a half times cheaper than film, which can really add up. If I wanted to be really frugal and only shot a single roll of film for each birthday, holiday, and vacation, that would easily add up to 480 pictures a year. The expense would be $312 per year. If I wanted to be less conservative and chose, on average, 15 of my most favourite pictures from digital to print from each birthday, holiday, and vacation, I would end up with 300 pictures a year and have paid $30 for all of them. If I wanted to do all of them myself on my inkjet, my cost would still be well under $100. Over 5 years, I would save between $1,060 and $1,410 - enough to buy a really nice brand new digital camera with money to spare. Realistically, the savings are even more significant, as the majority of my pictures end up on a digital picture frame, virtually eliminating the need for traditional photo albums.

Unretouched negative film scan left, unretouched digital image from RAW file right

I did a side-by-side comparison of two similar pictures, one taken with my film Pentax, and the other with my digital Pentax. I printed a digital 4x6 off of my printer, which was rated "Mediocre" for photo printing (but has fantastic ink costs and overall functionality). At first glance, the digital picture had colours that were brighter, more vibrant...but as I looked deeper, I could see the print that came from the negative had a greater dynamic range and offered greater clarity in the detailed parts of the image. This proved to me that the people who still prefer film weren't crackpots. I could see exactly what they were talking about. Then I realized something. All of my pictures were JPEGs. This meant they were compressed; how could I expect the same level of detail and dynamic range from a JPEG as a film negative? I remembered that my camera offered High Dynamic Range (HDR) capture, as well as RAW mode. I also had to remember that my inexpensive inkjet printer was probably no match for the high priced professional lab machine at Wal-Mart. I tested again, this time shooting first in HDR capture and then  in RAW, and discovered that the dynamic range came back better than 200 ISO film in both HDR and RAW, but RAW alone not only delivered the dynamic range, but also clarity beyond 200 ISO 35mm film in the detailed parts of the image.

Conclusion

The days of mass consumer film use are long gone

I found this exploration and experimentation enlightening. Without the film comparison, I might not have bothered to discover the world of RAW digital photography; now I understand what digital photographers mean when they describe a RAW image file as a digital negative. I still shoot JPEG for quick shots that are going to be further reduced and posted on-line, but I make a conscious choice to switch to RAW for finer photography. I also learned that those who choose film for its aesthetics and the feel of the equipment are legitimate in their choice. There is no doubt in my mind that medium and large format film is significantly better than 35mm film, but that film has always existed in the realm of the fine arts world. For me as well as the majority of consumers, film is no more; it's just not a frugal choice given the latitude offered by RAW and the exceptional image quality of modern digital cameras. I'll probably hang on to the K1000 body as a keepsakes, but the family heirloom may very well be that fast 50mm lens. It still produces beautiful images with the latest digital Pentax cameras.