Would YOU Sell a Joy Machine?

I get an offer on my 2003 Honda S2000 — and say nope.


My “fleet” of vehicles in the four-car garage on the north side of my home. My little 17′ Sea Ray jet boat is hiding behind the truck; it needs to be sold. If you look closely, you can see my 1999 Yamaha Grizzly ATV parked outside; I bought that new, too.

My Jeep is still packed with art show gear and, frankly, with another show later this month, I’m willing to let it stay packed so I don’t have repack it. My truck is a pain in the butt to park and I didn’t really need to haul anything. So when I went to a meeting with my tax accountant and down into Wenatchee to run some errands, I took my Honda.

It’s a 2003 Honda S2000 and I bought it new. It has about 69,000 miles on it and I drove it for most of those miles.

The Joy Machine

Honda and ToyotaThis might be the only photo I have of my Honda and Toyota parked side by side. For years, the Toyota lived at whatever airport I flew my helicopter to most often: Prescott, Scottsdale, and, in this photo, at Phoenix Deer Valley.

Now I know most folks say it’s dumb to buy new cars when used cars are so much cheaper. I think I’ve heard the “drops $5000 in value as you drive it away” claim about a million times. But when you keep your cars for 20+ years, depreciation is not something you really need to worry about. You really do get your money’s worth, even if the car is a total junker when you dispose of it — like my 1987 Toyota MR-2 was.

This car turned on to be a classic because Honda only made them for a few years. So after normal depreciation for the first 10+ years, the car has started to appreciate. It’s “desirable.” It certainly does turn a lot of heads and get a lot of complements.

I don’t drive it very often, but when I do, I remember why I call it my Joy Machine. I swear that if I had the worst day of my life and was totally miserable, I could get in this car, take it for a drive in the mountains, and be totally joyful within 30 minutes. It’s a blast to drive, with fast engine, six-speed transmission, nearly zero body roll, grippy tires, and good brakes. Top down is the way to go, of course. Replacing the stock stereo with a modern, more powerful one a few years ago — why did I wait so long? — makes it perfect for any road trip, provided you don’t need to take much luggage. In no reality could this be called a “practical” car, but hell, that’s what the Jeep and truck are for.

The Car Dealer

So I drive the Honda into Wenatchee the other day, all the way to the north end of town, and pull into the Home Depot parking lot. I need to return some irrigation stuff and get different irrigation stuff. (Don’t get me started on irrigation and careless landscapers with lawnmowers.) As I’m walking away from the car, a guy pulls up next to me in an SUV.

“I want to buy your car,” he says to me.

“It’s not for sale,” I say to him.

He then proceeds to tell me that he’s with a car dealer up the road and that the car is very desirable and worth a lot of money.

I tell him that I know exactly how much Kelly Blue Book says its worth because I looked it up the day before, out of curiosity, when also looking up the value of a truck camper I want to sell.

“You’re selling a truck camper?” he says. “I just bought one of those the other day. We’re looking for another one. But I really want to buy that car.”

“Well, everything has its price,” I admit. “Come up with a big enough number and I’d consider selling it.” I didn’t tell him how big that number had to be, but it was pretty big. A lot bigger than KBB said it was worth. After all, it wasn’t just a car. It was a Joy Machine.

We exchanged numbers and he said he wanted to come up and look at both vehicles. He’d bring someone from his office.

I really do want to sell that camper — it’s a 2007 Lance 950 sized for a long bed — and if I could lure him up to my place by letting him have a closer look at the car, I was willing to do it. I had the JD Powers numbers for the camper and had discovered that it was worth a lot more than I thought it was. I was pretty flexible on price, though; I’d paid less than the current value for it. If he came near what I wanted and handed over cash, it would be his.


I had a lot of fun times in this truck camper and I sure hope it goes to a good home.

The Visit

True to his word, he contacted me later in the day to set up a meeting at my house the next day, Friday. 3 PM was the time. That gave me all day to finish clearing out the camper, washing road dirt off it, and vacuuming it. I did all the cleanup with it still in the garage — my garage has a drain so I often wash vehicles in there, in the shade. (It clears the dust off the garage floor at the same time.) Then I got the truck in there and lowered the camper onto it. I pulled out of the garage and closed the door.

I also pulled the Honda out into the shade just outside its garage bay and gave it a good washing, top down. (Yes, it is possible to wash a convertible with the top down.) I dried it off and it sparkled. I put the vinyl top cover over the folded top. It looked amazing. Seriously: when you take care of your stuff, it shows. (My 1999 Jeep — also bought new — has never been so lucky; I beat the crap out of it on a regular basis and it shows.) I closed that garage, too.


My Joy Machine after a quick wash.

Now you might think I’m nuts inviting a stranger who approached me up to my house, supposedly to look at vehicles. But I’m not a complete idiot. The garage and house was closed up so there was no way he’d see anything else that I owned. And I texted my neighbor Teri and asked if I could borrow one of her men — either her husband or his cousin who was visiting — for the occasion. They both rolled up in his side-by-side at about 2:45. They had a gun with them.

(I’d considered bringing my gun down from the house, but there was no place I could hide it on my person when I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt. So I had no problem with them bringing one that they kept in the side-by-side.)

So yes, I understood right from the get-go that this could be some scam to get me to reveal more about my possessions than just these two vehicles or even an opportunity to rob me or worse. And I took precautions. ‘Nuff said.

He showed up late. Very late. Almost 4 PM. He was alone. He looked at the camper and was impressed. I’ve only owned it since 2017 — six years — but during that time, it was always garaged when not in use. Yes, I did live in it for months at a time when I went south for the winter, but I kept everything in good condition and fixed problems as they cropped up. Here’s another news flash: when you take care of your stuff, it doesn’t break very often. So although the camper itself was 15 years old, it looked great and worked pretty much perfectly. I also had all kinds of extra gear for it, including vinyl room panels for under the sleeping area when it was off the truck and the tie-down equipment the next owner would need to secure it to his truck. That stuff alone was probably worth at least $1500 if bought new.

Then he wanted to see the car. I walked him over to the other side of the house where it was still parked in front of its closed garage door. He might have been drooling. He told me he wanted it and he wanted to hand it down to his daughter, who is now six years old. He said his boss also wanted it because they could sell it. They’re opening a new location in Arizona and I suspect he was imagining driving it down there. Heck, I was imagining it, too — and I’d already driven it between Arizona and Washington state three times.

He wanted me to give him a price on the car but I wouldn’t. I told him he needs to give me a price. In the meantime, I’d already given him the JD Powers printout for the camper, along with my price, which was the “average retail” on that page. (Again, I’d take less, but he didn’t need to know that yet.)

The whole time we chatted, my neighbor and his cousin just hung around. My neighbor, who has some physical disabilities, stayed in his side-by-side. His cousin trimmed the sagebrush along my driveway, which I had on my list of things to do. My neighbor’s wife drove in with their dog and table scraps for my chickens and her husband left.

The car dealer and I finished out chat and he left. On the way out, he told me I had a great gardener. We all had a good laugh about that when he was gone.

The Offer

The offer came the next day, Saturday, via phone call.

It was disappointing. He told me that they wanted to buy both vehicles. They offered me slightly more than the JD Powers number for the camper but the exact Kelly Blue Book number for my Joy Machine. They said it was a package offer — both or neither.

I laughed at him. I told him that I didn’t care what KBB said it was worth. It was worth a lot more to me. I told him it was my Joy Machine and explained what I meant. He understood. But he said his boss wouldn’t buy one without the other.

So I told him that he was out of luck because I was definitely not selling the car at that price or even anything slightly above it. He tried to reason with me, but I was firm.

He said he’d talk to his boss. (Does that statement come pre-programmed into car dealers?) We hung up. That was yesterday and I haven’t heard another word from him.

Meanwhile, I listed the truck camper on Craig’s List. If the guy they supposedly had in the office looking for a truck camper really exists, I hope he sees it.

Cancelling Amazon Prime

I just don’t think it’s worth the cost — for me.

I joined Amazon Prime when it first started in 2005. Back then, it was $79/year and all it guaranteed was free 2-day shipping. I’m pretty sure that applied to all items on Amazon and that might be because back then when you bought from Amazon it was actually sold by Amazon and shipped by Amazon. (None of the “marketplace” crap there is today.)

Time went on. My subscription renewed annually. I lived in a little town in Arizona that had very little retail shopping other than groceries, hardware, and ranch supplies. Amazon helped me get good deals and quick delivery on the computer components, software, books, and other items I needed in my job as a freelance computer book author. I enjoyed the ability to order anything and have it shipped to me for free within two days.

Amazon added Prime video in 2011. It didn’t matter to me because I had super crappy Internet service at home and satellite TV so I didn’t need/want to stream video. Of course, that changed in 2013 when I moved to Washington State, got super fast Internet, and skipped the satellite or cable service. But I’m not big on watching TV so I really didn’t stream much on Amazon. I had Netflix. And a DVD player.

In 2014, the annual price for Prime membership increased to $99/year. They added Prime Pantry, Amazon Music, and Amazon Photos, none of which held any interest for me. Amazon Now was also added; it offered same-day shipping in metropolitan areas as far removed from my rural home as can be imagined. But Prime still seemed like a good deal for free shipping within 2 days.

Prime Day debuted in 2015. It basically conned Prime members into buying more crap they didn’t need — although I did get a smoking deal on a hybrid queen-sized mattress for my camper one year.

Prime Reading started in 2016, although I only discovered it last year. It offered a limited selection of books and magazines to read for free. I used this feature to read a few magazines I couldn’t get at the library.

When the Amazon Rewards Visa card came out in 2017, I got one. I earned points for my purchases and used those points to buy things on Amazon. No annual fee. I still have the card but I rarely use it; Chase (the bank that runs the card) has super shitty customer service so I now mostly use my Apple Card, which gives me “cash back” that I can spend anywhere. 2017’s Prime Wardrobe did not interest me in the least. And the special Prime benefits at Whole Foods were useless to me because there wasn’t a Whole Foods within 200 miles of my home.

When the Prime membership price went up to $119/year in 2018, I started wondering whether the free shipping — which was really the only feature I used regularly — was worth it. It’s around then that I started streaming video in an effort to get my money’s worth. But I didn’t stream much.

2020 and covid rolled around. All of a sudden, I wasn’t getting free 2-day shipping. I was lucky to get items I ordered within a week. It was the lockdown, of course, and I really couldn’t blame Amazon. It was temporary — or at least that’s what I thought.


Amazon will ship for free even if you aren’t a Prime member. Just buy at least $25 worth of eligible stuff.

Truth is, I haven’t gotten regular 2-day shipping on Prime items from Amazon since Covid lockdowns began. It’s been more than two years.

So this year, when Amazon announced that it was raising the price of prime membership to $149/year. I took a good, hard look at what I was getting for that. A lot of folks don’t realize it, but if you spend $25 or more on Prime eligible items, you get those items shipped for free even if you’re not a prime member. I just tested this by logging out and adding a $14.99 item to my shopping cart. See the screen grab here? Buy $10.01 more and it all ships free.

Then I started to explore my Prime membership settings. They offered this helpful graphic to show how much I used Prime features:


In 12 months, I had 80 free shipments — which I could have had without Prime membership — and watched just 14 movies or TV shows.

I concluded that Amazon Prime simply wasn’t worth $149/year to me. Frankly, it isn’t even worth $119. Maybe not even $99, unless I start watching a lot more television.

So with my membership up for renewal on March 12 at the new $149/year rate, I decided to cancel — or “pause,” which apparently removes features and stops billing but keeps my account on standby in case I want to fire it back up. Cancel is an option, too, and I suspect that I’ll use it if they start spamming me to come back.

It’s pretty obvious that Jeff Bezos — with his fancy new yacht — doesn’t need my money. And why should I spend my money on services I don’t need or use?

You can read more details about the history of Amazon Prime from 2005 to 2020 in this article.

The Bum at the Hot Springs

Nothing like a man who is proud of his livelihood. Or is there?

I’m still at the hot springs near Holtville. My second week started today. I’m working on a video about it — really! — but will likely blog a bit more about it, too.

I soak twice a day in the tubs. I usually go in the morning around 8 or 9 AM and then again after lunch. It’s been remarkably empty on this visit. Maybe everyone is stuck in their camper with Covid. I don’t know, but I’m sure enjoying it.

But a little less this morning.

When I arrived for my soak, there were only three other people there: a man in a cowboy hat with a thick southern accent who wasn’t soaking, a woman in a bathing suit in the large tub, and a man in shorts in the large tub. The shorts weren’t unusual; I’d say only two thirds of the people in the tubs are prepared with bathing suits. The others wear whatever they have to wear.

They were deep in conversation when I arrived and from the bits and pieces I heard, it didn’t sound like anything interesting. I stripped down to my bathing suit and got under the shower to rinse off. Then, since the smallest tub was vacant and full of water, I climbed in to keep my distance from the others.

I heard their conversation now and, like I said, it wasn’t terribly interesting. None of them seemed very bright. And then I caught something that got me interested. Shorts man said, “I was going to take a few hours off today, but I have to get back to work.”

“What do you do?” cowboy hat asked.

“I’m a bum,” shorts man said.

There was a moment of silence as the other two tried to figure out what he meant.

But they didn’t have to wait long because shorts man spoke up pretty quickly. “I ask for money at the side of the road.”

The other two acknowledged his words without making judgement. I was very glad I was not among them because I doubt I could have kept my mouth shut.

“Yeah, I go to a corner and I put up a sign that says ‘Hungry’ and people give me money. It’s great! My gas and my food — it’s all free.”

There was a sick sort of pride in his voice. He was bragging about his success as a panhandler.

He went on to give them details about some of the corners he’d worked recently. As he spoke, the woman edged over to the ladder and climbed out. The other guy listened politely for a while and made appropriate polite noises.

The woman came to the shower, which was near me, and I must have made a face at her. (I have a tendency to roll my eyes, sometimes at inappropriate times. Drove my wasband nuts, but hell, he shouldn’t have given me so many reasons to roll my eyes.) She nodded at me — I think in agreement — as she began rinsing off.

Shorts man, the proud bum, was still talking to cowboy hat, although I think the subject had changed. When the woman finished with the shower and went back to where her towel hung on the fence, cowboy hat joined her. The bum was still talking to them as they said goodbye and slipped out the gate.

That left me alone with the bum. I wasn’t afraid of him or anything like that. I was just worried he’d come talk to me and that I’d say something that I shouldn’t. I was royally pissed off. I hate panhandlers with a passion, especially the ones who so obviously could get work if they wanted it. This guy didn’t even look like a bum.

So I climbed out of my tub and began showering off. But by the time I’d gone for my towel, he’d left the area, probably to ask cowboy hat and the woman for lunch money or something.

Who the fuck knows.

Anyway, another couple came and since I’d already soaked for a while and had gotten my towel soaked by drying off, I decided to go back to my camp. They had the tub area to themselves.

Later in the day, when I went back for my afternoon soak at around 1:30 PM, he was back in the big tub, smoking and chatting away with someone else while two other people in the tub were clearly trying to ignore them. I guess he’d taken the rest of the day off. Again, the smaller tub was available and that’s where I went. I only stayed about 30 minutes and was gone before he left.

So the next time you see a man at an intersection with a crude cardboard sign reading “Hungry” or “Anything Helps” or “God Bless,” I want you to remember this story. How many of those people take their cars filled with gas that gullible fools — like you, maybe? — paid for on trips out to the hot springs or local bar or other hangout when they’re “off” from “work”? How many of them brag to strangers about how they’re living on someone else’s dime? How many of them really need your help?

Every time you give one of them money, you’re just perpetuating the problem.