Back in 2003, I bought one of the first wide screen TVs on the market. It is a huge, 50-inch, HD-compatible Toshiba, about five feet tall and three feet deep. It takes four, able-bodied, muscled men with strong backs to move that big boy.
It cost me $2000 back in the day, but that is with all the extras I had to purchase. It demanded a controller through which all the other attachments are channeled. I had a VCR player back then and a few DVDs, but since then I got rid of the VCR player and added a Wii, a Blu-Ray machine, and the Direct TV monitor. Most of these were invented after I bought the TV so additional machines and wires have had to be purchased and attached to the old boy to bring it up-to-date. The same goes with subscription services. The TV is not “smart,” so since it cannot connect to the Internet or Wi-Fi service, we cannot access Hulu or Netflix or other modern services like that. We can do it on our computers but not on our TV.
My three kids have grown accustomed to this old boy, but my grandkids are techno-snobs and are embarrassed that their grandparents hold on to such an antiquity. Their PlayStations, iPads, and other doodads do not work on our Toshiba and I refuse to buy one more attachment or one more wire to make that happen. They give it the same jaundiced eye they give us, surprised that we are still alive and kicking even at our advance, decrepit age.
I have only had it fixed once and it cost me $200, but the repairman warned me back in 2008 that I would probably not be able to fix it again since the parts for it are obsolete. I figure I got my money’s worth, so my HoneyBunch and I have decided to keep this old relic until it dies. We have selected its replacement and have made plans for the space it will open up in our cramped living room. We never talk about it in its presence. That would be rude. It has been with us through so many good and bad times that the old Toshiba is like family, kind of like when one gets attached to the old family car, so until then we treat it with respect.