When an Old Laptop Still has a Lot of Life Left

 I’ve been spending quite a bit of time lately working on old laptop computers.

What I’ve discovered is that fixing them usually isn’t the hard part.

Most of the time, the problems are fairly simple. A laptop may need a new battery or charger. Maybe it needs some additional memory. Sometimes I replace an old mechanical hard drive with an SSD. Then I install Linux, and a computer that somebody thought was obsolete can be useful again.

I enjoy doing that. There is something satisfying about taking an old computer that has been sitting around unused and bringing it back to life.

The difficult part, I’m discovering, is finding somebody who wants it.

Recently I contacted the IT person at our local school district. I thought perhaps the school could use some of these computers, or maybe find students who could. I was willing to provide some very cheaply or even give them away.

He wasn’t interested in the older laptops. I can understand some of his reasoning. Schools need standardized equipment, and their IT departments have to support whatever computers they put into service. An assortment of older Linux laptops probably doesn't fit very well into that system.

I also mentioned that I have some Chromebooks, but I haven’t heard anything further about those.

That experience got me thinking.

Maybe fixing old computers isn't really the problem. Maybe the problem is finding people willing to use something different.

Most computer users are accustomed to Windows. They've used it for years, and understandably they don't necessarily want to learn another operating system. But Windows also has hardware requirements that can leave older computers behind as newer versions come along.

Linux gives me another choice.

A computer that may no longer be a good candidate for the latest version of Windows can sometimes run Linux very well. It can browse the Internet, play YouTube videos, handle email, write documents and do many of the everyday things most people actually use a computer for.

You don't necessarily need a new computer to do those things.

So I’m changing my approach. Instead of asking, “Who will buy these old computers?” I’m asking, “Who actually needs one?”

There is a man I know who runs an antique shop downtown and is also a pastor of a church in Laurens, Iowa. I’m thinking about asking him whether he knows anyone in his congregation who needs a computer and perhaps can't afford to go out and buy one.

If somebody needs a computer for email, looking for work, writing a résumé, keeping in touch with family, watching educational videos or simply exploring the Internet, one of these old laptops might be all the computer that person needs.

It may not be worth much money.

But that doesn't make it worthless.

We live in a society where technology gets labeled “obsolete” very quickly. Sometimes there are good reasons for replacing old equipment. But sometimes the old machine isn't finished at all.

It just needs a battery, a charger, a little memory, Linux—and somebody willing to give it another chance.

Here's a good example of what I've been doing with these old laptops.

Later

My Blog Is Really a Journal

 I

I've been thinking lately about what this blog really is.

I suppose the simplest answer is that it's a journal.

I don't have a huge audience. For quite a while I had only a couple of people who seemed to read regularly. Lately that number has gone up to maybe six or seven, which isn't exactly going to set any records, but I'm glad to have them.

There have been some strange exceptions over the years. At one point, for reasons I still don't understand, I suddenly had about 250 people from Moldova reading my blog. They stayed for two or three days and then disappeared. I never did figure out what attracted them.

Over the years I've written about all kinds of things. I've written about what I'm doing in my everyday life, things happening in the world, computers, money, bicycling, getting older, and whatever else happens to be occupying my mind.

Years ago, during the Ebola outbreak in West Africa, I even wrote about some theories I had concerning what might have caused it. Looking back, some of my speculation wasn't supported by what we now know. But that's another interesting thing about keeping a journal. A journal records what you were thinking at a particular moment in your life. It doesn't mean you were always right.

In fact, maybe that's part of its value.

When you go back and read something you wrote five, ten or twenty years ago, you aren't just remembering what happened. You're meeting an earlier version of yourself. You can see what concerned you, what excited you, what you believed and sometimes how much your thinking has changed.

My journal just happens to be public.

These days I write about rebuilding old computers, trying to keep physically active, bicycling, finances, things I've learned, and occasionally just what happened during my day. None of those things may seem historically important while they're happening. But put enough ordinary days together and eventually you have the story of a life.

That's one reason I think journaling is worth trying.

You don't have to write something profound every day. You don't even have to write every day. And you certainly don't need hundreds of readers. You can use a notebook, a computer, or even start a blog.

Write down what you did. Write down what you're thinking about. Write about something you learned. Write about a mistake. Write about something you're looking forward to.

Then keep it.

Someday you may discover that the person who gets the most value from reading it is you.

And if six or seven other people happen to come along for the ride, that's pretty good too.

Later

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I Turned 79 Today—and I’m Not Finished Building

Today is my 79th birthday.

That's a strange sentence to write, because I really don't feel 79.

Some time ago, I was going through airport security and asked a TSA agent whether I really needed to take my shoes off. I mentioned my age, and he looked at my driver's license.

He told me he thought I was about 50.

I was 78 at the time.

Now, I'm not going to claim that I look 50 every morning when I look in the mirror. But I do think there's something to be said for staying active.

In fact, I feel more active now in some ways than I did a year ago. I'm walking better. I swim. I lift weights. I ride my bicycle. None of those things happens without effort, and sometimes it takes quite a bit of effort.

But it's worth it.

Yesterday I wrote about the idea of building instead of simply consuming. I've been thinking that the same principle applies to ourselves.

We can keep building ourselves.

That doesn't mean pretending we're not getting older. It means continuing to use what we have. Keep the muscles working. Keep the mind working. Keep learning. Keep finding something new to do.

I've been repairing and rebuilding old laptop computers for years, so that's nothing new for me. But I'm still learning from them. Every computer seems to present a different problem, and sometimes I have to figure out something I've never dealt with before.

The bicycle has given me another challenge. Riding takes physical effort, but it also gives me somewhere to go and something to look forward to.

And then there's this blog. Writing makes me stop and think about what I'm doing and what I've learned.

Maybe that's part of staying young.

I'm not talking about trying to turn the clock backward. I'm talking about having something you're interested in doing tomorrow.

At 79, I still have things I want to learn, places I want to go, computers I want to fix, miles I want to ride, and ideas I want to explore.

Getting older takes place whether we work at it or not.

Staying active takes effort.

For me, that effort has been worth it.

I'm 79 today.

And I'm not finished building.

I found a TED talk on this topic; it should be good.

Later

Building Instead of Just Consuming

During those quiet hours, I began watching YouTube videos by people like Dan Martell, Robert Kiyosaki, and Jaspreet Singh. At first, they were simply interesting videos. But over time, they caused me to think differently about work, money and financial freedom.

One lesson that stuck was that a paycheck matters, but by itself may not be enough to build the kind of stability people hope for.

These days, I ask a different question: not what can I buy, but what can I build?

Building to me can mean many things: starting a small project, learning skills, investing in productive companies, owning real estate, rebuilding a computer, or writing a blog. There isn't one formula that fits everyone, but I've come to believe there's value in creating something instead of simply spending.

Before I spend now, I try to ask, will this help me build my future, or is it simply something I'll consume today? That question has probably influenced my financial thinking more than any single tip I've heard.

I don't agree with everything every financial educator says, but I do appreciate anything that encourages people to think for themselves and take responsibility.

At nearly 79, I'm still learning. I don't think learning has an expiration date.

If there's one thought I'd leave you with, it's this: Instead of asking only what you can earn or buy, ask yourself what you can build. A skill, a business, a blog, a better habit. That might become one of the most valuable assets you own.

For me, one of the videos that sparked this line of thinking was by Dan Martell.

I'd also genuinely enjoy hearing from you. What channels, books, or life experiences have shifted your perspective?

Later

Adjusting Trip Plans

I have decided to shorten my bicycle trip. Instead of riding all the way from Sac City to Dubuque, I am going to ride to Fort Dodge.

The original trip sounded like a wonderful adventure, but motel rooms, meals, and other expenses would add up quickly. I already have an $800 body-shop bill coming in October to install the replacement fenders on my truck. I bought the fenders, but I decided to let an experienced body man install them rather than struggle with the job myself.

Sometimes the sensible thing is to change a plan before it becomes a financial problem. That does not mean I am giving up on bicycle touring. Fort Dodge is still far enough from Sac City to make it a real ride and a good test of what I can do.

I still have another decision to make: which bicycle should I ride?

My newly rebuilt bicycle has a carbon-fiber frame and is as light as a feather. It rides better than my older bicycle, and naturally I would rather ride the lighter machine over a long distance.

Unfortunately, the carbon-fiber bicycle does not have the screw holes normally used to attach a rack and bags. I do not want to carry a backpack. Having that weight on my back would make me tired much sooner and probably make the ride less enjoyable.

My older bicycle is heavier, but it was practically made for touring. It has plenty of places to attach racks, bags, and other equipment. I could load it with everything I need without inventing a complicated system.

I plan to take the carbon-fiber bicycle to the bike shop in Storm Lake and ask what can safely be attached to it. Carbon fiber requires some care, so I do not want to clamp something onto the frame and damage it. If the shop can find a safe way for it to carry my equipment, I will probably use the lighter bicycle. If not, the old touring bicycle may be the wiser choice.

There has also been a possible change in my computer hobby.

My sister suggested contacting the IT person at the local school district. The school might know of students who need laptops at home for homework. I have been buying older computers cheaply, repairing them, installing usable software, and getting them ready for another life.

There probably would not be any tax benefit for me because of my income situation, but that is not really the point. I would like to see these computers go somewhere they can do some good instead of sitting around my house.

Perhaps the school could accept them as donations. Another possibility would be charging around $30 apiece—not as a business, but simply to recover some of the money I spend on batteries, drives, chargers, and other parts. I will need to talk with the school and find out what it can legally and practically do.

Naturally, the computer hobby continues to provide its share of puzzles. I recently ordered a replacement laptop battery. It fits into the battery compartment, and the electrical connection appears to be in the correct place, but the plastic key is positioned differently. That probably means I was sent the wrong battery, even though it looks almost identical to the correct one.

I will have to contact the seller and compare the battery’s exact model and part numbers before trying to force anything. In computer repair, “almost right” is usually another way of saying “wrong.”

So several plans are changing. The ride is getting shorter. The bicycle has not been selected. The computers may be headed to local students, and one battery may be headed back to its seller.

But none of these projects is being abandoned. Sometimes working the system means recognizing reality, changing direction, and continuing forward.

For the practical decisions:

• Take both bicycles to the Storm Lake shop if possible. Ask them to compare the carrying options and riding position—not merely whether they can make a rack fit.

• Don’t let anyone clamp an ordinary rack tightly around the carbon frame unless the bicycle or rack manufacturer specifically approves it.

• Contact the school’s IT director before preparing more laptops. Schools sometimes have security, software, battery-condition, and electrical-safety requirements.

• Don’t force the new battery into place. Photograph the old and new labels and connectors side by side, then request an exchange using the exact laptop and battery part numbers.

The best companion video would be about an older rider completing a meaningful one-day bicycle journey, which fits this revised Fort Dodge plan better than a cross-country cycling video.

Later

The Bicycle Ride I Never Took

When I was in my early twenties, I had an idea that never quite went away. I wanted to take a long bicycle trip.

Life intervened, as it usually does. There was always work to do, bills to pay, or some practical reason why the trip needed to wait. The years passed, and the bicycle ride remained one of those things I intended to do someday.

Now I am nearly 79 years old, and someday has arrived.

I am planning to ride my bicycle from Sac City to Dubuque, across the state of Iowa. It will not be a race, and I have no intention of pretending that I am still twenty years old. I expect to ride somewhere between 30 and 50 miles a day, stopping at hotels along the way.

The route will probably take me through Rockwell City, Fort Dodge, Waterloo or Cedar Falls, and eventually Dubuque. I want to follow the old Highway 20 route as much as practical and see Iowa at bicycle speed.

Traveling by bicycle is different from driving. In a car, towns and farms pass by through the windshield. On a bicycle, you notice the hills, the wind, the weather, the smells, and the people. Every mile has to be earned.

I have been rebuilding an older carbon-frame bicycle for the trip. By the time all the work is finished, I will have about $1,200 invested in it. That is more than I originally intended to spend, but it should be a dependable and comfortable bicycle.

There are still things to prepare. I need racks for the panniers, a small toolkit, spare parts, suitable clothing, and a way to carry everything without overloading the bicycle.

I also want to take my Canon EOS Rebel 2000 film camera. Digital cameras make photography easy, but film makes a person stop and think before pressing the shutter. I hope to take a few photographs each day and perhaps use them in later blog posts.

The trip will require some planning beyond the bicycle. My idea is to tow my Dodge Caliber to Dubuque behind my pickup, leave the pickup there, drive the Caliber home, and then begin the bicycle ride. When I reach Dubuque, my truck will be waiting for me.

That may sound complicated, but long bicycle trips generally involve some sort of transportation puzzle.

I plan to stay in hotels rather than camp. At my age, a shower, a decent meal, and a comfortable bed are not luxuries. They are part of what will make it possible to get back on the bicycle the following morning.

I am not doing this to set a speed record. Finishing safely is more important than finishing quickly. If the weather turns bad or I need an extra rest day, I will take one.

The ride is partly about seeing Iowa, but it is also about proving something to myself. Growing older limits some things, but it does not have to eliminate every adventure.

There is always a temptation to wait until everything is perfect. The bicycle could be lighter. My legs could be stronger. The weather forecast could be better. I could have more money saved.

But if I wait for perfect conditions, the bicycle ride may remain the ride I never took.

So I am getting the bicycle ready, gathering my equipment, and working out the route. When everything is reasonably prepared, I intend to start pedaling east.

I sometimes wonder what the young man who first imagined this trip would think of the old man finally attempting it.

He might be surprised that it took me nearly sixty years.

But I suspect he’d be pretty pleased that I finally got started.

Later

My Newest Helper is Artificial Intelligence

Hello, everyone.

Today I want to talk about my newest helper—and my newest helper is artificial intelligence.

Yes, I talk to my computer. I talk to it quite a lot, in fact. Some people may think that sounds strange, but I have found it extremely useful.

I’m 79 years old, and I enjoy working on older computers and laptops. I buy some of them very cheaply through online auctions. Then I see whether I can repair them, improve them, install Linux Mint, and give them a useful second life.

Artificial intelligence has been especially helpful with that work.

When a computer won’t start, a screen goes dark, a battery won’t charge, or Linux refuses to install, there can be many possible causes. My AI helper helps me work through those possibilities one at a time.

For example, I had an HP laptop that would not let me install Linux Mint properly. We eventually figured out that its Intel Optane memory was interfering with the installation. After I removed the Optane module, I was able to install Linux Mint and get the computer working.

On another older HP laptop, the picture was still present, but the backlight kept going out. Artificial intelligence helped me think through the possible causes, including the inverter, the display cable, and the magnetic lid switch. It didn’t magically repair the computer for me—I still had to open the machine, examine the parts, order replacements, and do the work—but it gave me someone to reason through the problem with.

It has also helped me identify the correct kinds of memory, hard drives, solid-state drives, batteries, chargers, and other parts. That is important because it is very easy to order the wrong computer part. When you are trying to revive an old laptop economically, one wrong purchase can wipe out any money you might have saved.

I also use artificial intelligence when I’m considering computers at an auction. We examine the photographs and specifications, discuss what might be missing or broken, and decide how high I should bid. Sometimes the wisest advice is to stop bidding and let somebody else take the risk.

We have also been organizing my laptop projects in a spreadsheet. It keeps track of what I paid, the shipping charges, the parts I installed, and whether I eventually sold or donated the computer. That will help me find out whether this hobby is paying for itself—or at least how much the hobby is costing me.

Artificial intelligence has helped me with other things too, including questions about my cars and truck, bicycle trips, collectibles, and finding businesses or telephone numbers. But computers are where it has been especially valuable.

The thing I appreciate most is the patience. I can ask a question, try something, explain what happened, and then take the next step. If I don’t understand an answer, I can ask for a simpler explanation. I never have to be embarrassed about asking the same question twice.

Artificial intelligence cannot replace human judgment, experience, or friendship. It can also make mistakes, so I don’t accept every answer without thinking about it. But used carefully, it can be a very capable assistant.

At 79, I am still learning, repairing things, trying new projects, and occasionally getting myself into a computer problem that takes a while to solve. Having a patient helper available whenever I need one makes those projects a little easier—and a great deal more enjoyable.

So yes, I talk to my computer.

And I’m very glad that it talks back.

  

Later