When I was in middle school and high school, I was always confused by the things my wealthier friends did with their time. It seemed that many of these families had nothing better to do with their lives than constantly try new and expensive activities. We didn’t really have the money for those things, but even more than that, I didn’t often find those things very interesting. Jet skiing, parasailing, going to high-end hotels, amusement parks, whole vacations at ski resorts, things I can barely remember now. And it wasn’t that any of those things were wrong, I was just amazed that that was literally all those people did with their time off. Apparently if you have money you’re just supposed to blow it all in some hedonistic race toward having done more than everybody else?
Expensive hobbies are sneaky. While the whole world seems to try to get you to “try this” or “try that”, people usually do settle upon certain activities they prefer over others. Some cost more, some less. But I’ve noticed something very disturbing about expensive hobbies: they frequently feed recursively upon the spending of larger and larger sums.
In community college, there were two people in my drawing class who were probably two decades apart in age, but they both went mudding. You know, driving giant pickup trucks through…mud. Since that was all they had in common, it was all they ever talked about, and every week there seemed to be new upgrades to this or that. Finally I asked, “How do you guys pay for all of these upgrades?” At which they both smiled and laughed sheepishly. I figured.
First of all, American culture praises extremes. We often refer to people who are really into a subject or activity as “hardcore”, and it often plays a critical role in identity formation. There is this strong desire to be a “type” of person, a fanatic, extreme, or dedicated. So much so that when people set out to try something new, they often go “all-in” and spend a great deal of money to get started. Once in and established in the community, the pressure begins to go further. And those communities are very dangerous because of this. What started as a hobby may become a greater commitment, as the people in the community vie for status and spend greater and greater amounts of money to prove themselves. This, to me, is the greatest risk of expensive hobbies: it’s not so much the hobby itself as it is the community that encourages you to go farther than you otherwise would if acceptance weren’t a part of the equation.
It’s not all bad, don’t get me wrong. But I’ve known people who dumped tons of money on camping gear to fit in with people. But they never ultimately did, and I bet that gear has been sitting around for a long time.
I, personally, have felt the pressure to buy a gun, to go shooting with friends. But ultimately, my desire to go shooting with them has yet to overcome my desire to not spend $600 on something I really don’t care to own. But that’s just me.
It’s not always social, either. My two great temptations have been 1) buying a drone, and 2) buying the gear needed for metal detecting. For the former, I imagine flying a drone up high in the mountains, discovering old mining ruins, spotting old foundation lines above fields, re-discovering old trails. The lure of adventure awaits! For the latter, I imagine finding old historic coins, the vestiges of old houses, clues to the past. More history, more adventure! But so far, I’ve really shied away from these. In our extroverted, “try everything” culture, there is that sense that, hey, I could try these and find I might really like them, and that could actually be true. But there is also the ever-present danger that the promise of adventure will be much greater than the reality. Sadly, this is usually the case, as noted by how many garages cannot be parked in (a favorite subject for me to pick on). Because the truth is, at least with what I’m describing for myself, there’s already plenty of adventure to be had just in hiking, or in exploring backcountry ruins, or vising museums. Heck, there’s adventure in trying new restaurants with friends, too! In my head, it’s always like, “You have the money for these things!” And while that’s true, that’s not the right way to look at it. Just because I can afford it doesn’t mean I’m actually going to use it and truly get value from it. And as for metal detecting, the laws can be pretty strict, especially as regards historical structures, and where else would I be hunting for treasure?
You always have to keep in mind the true cost of a thing. I mentioned this a long time ago, but there are three elements to the true cost of a thing:
- Initial cost – the sticker price, what you pay in the store
- Inherent cost – the price of maintaining what you paid for (electricity, gasoline, continued subscriptions, etc)
- Extended cost – the price of accessories, things that go with the initial purchase, additional costs of operation and maintenance
I’m getting bit in the butt by my GPS because I have to pay a monthly subscription to keep the emergency features going. I really, really hate this, because it’s a sneaky drag on my monthly budget, and it’s only useful for a few days each month anyway. I wish I had more thoroughly researched this product before I bought it.
Expensive hobbies have very high extended costs: these costs involve going further to prove your dedication. In some hobbies (more than you might believe), this borders on idiocy. Ever seen a truck lifted 5 feet off the ground? I have. Nobody buys that unless they think it will make them look cool in the eyes of certain people.
Sometimes, your hobbies can make you money. Many of the photographers I know started off as hobbyists. And if you’re putting thousands of dollars into your photography equipment, heck you’d better be making some money off of it :). But many hobbies do not translate into profits: quite the opposite.
I have to be careful with my hiking that I’m not spending too much time at REI looking for money to blow. It’s easy to do. So much gear, promising so much adventure! But I’ll always remember a few friends of mine who, just out of college and on shoe-string budgets, went hiking all the time, low-tech. You don’t have to be extreme, you just have to get out there.
The worst hobbies are the ones you dump a ton of money into and then never do. Behold the garages of America.
I feel like I’ve reached a place of stasis. I have all the gear I could realistically use. And even then, the midlayer jacket I bought for snowshoeing was only really necessary when I was in 0 degree weather with a few friends…at night. The other days were too warm for wearing it. That’s when you know you don’t need more gear. But oh, you could certainly buy more.
Just cut the crap. Do what you do, just don’t sacrifice your future for short-term thrills today, which tend to be thrills of purchase and not thrills of experience. Life doesn’t have to be expensive, we just like to make it that way, and sometimes we accidentally hang around people whose bad habits wear off on us. Know what you’re spending and why.