Macintosh Classic II (Todd Cross - The Post)

By Mike Musgrove
Washington Post Staff Writer

According to the back of the case, my nightstand was built in August 1991. It wasn't originally furniture, however; I inherited it four years ago, when it was more commonly referred to as a Macintosh Classic II.

I got some good years out of the thing, did a lot of writing on it, but when I handed over the ritual $2,000 awhile back and bought a new computer, the Classic II started filling in elsewhere in my apartment. I'm too cheap to spend money on actual furniture when I don't have to, and one feature of this hardware that will never go obsolete is that it's got just enough space on top to fit a book and a glass of milk.

In terms of relative age, seven solar years might as well be a century or so in computer years – the Mac is either a year younger than my car or about 10 times older, depending on how you look at it. Premature aging can be so cruel. The younger machine that currently holds my Important Documents is starting to creak and show its age too, it's time (again) to upgrade or get a new one, and it makes me a little sad – not just for my savings account, but because yet another trusty friend is joining the ranks of the obsolete.

So, out of curiosity, for the first time in two years I plugged in the old Mac and turned it on. This Classic II has a 16 MHz Motorola 68030 processor, 10 megs of RAM, an 80-megabyte hard drive and a couple of games that "raised the bar" nearly a decade ago: SimAnt, an old favorite that, alas, does not stand the test of time, and Pirates, a game that was never that great in the first place. Sadly, the Star Wars game, which by today's standards is basically just a screensaver with laser guns, seems to be broken.

I'm writing this piece on the Mac using an old piece of software called WriteNow, version 3.0, a svelte little program that lacks only a word-count feature to be pretty much most of what I need in a word processor. In fact, as I clatter away here, I'm also simultaneously surfing the Web, checking my e-mail, creating documents and ignoring my deadline – exactly the same things that I do with less venerable machines.

I'd never surfed the Web with this antique, but I was able to get it fitted up with a copy of Netscape Navigator 2.02 and actually connect to my Internet provider on a 14,400-bps modem, thanks to a little help from the folks at Washington Apple Pi, a users' group based in Rockville. It was exciting to see my bookmarks page for the first time (in glorious black and white), even if it doesn't exactly fit on this machine's nine-inch screen and the Mac's interpretation of color is an utter mess. Getting around on the Web is a patience-builder, to say the least. To take an example of a typical home-computer use: From start up to the Web to Kenneth Starr's report (on The Post's Web site) took eight minutes on the vintage Mac. On my current machine, start up to Starr took only 3½ minutes. This is about what I was expecting, of course, but the funny thing is how surfing the Web in slow motion actually makes me queasy these days (well, "surfing" seems a bit of an exaggeration – even "wading" would be a bit of a stretch). Is there such a thing as lack-of-motion sickness pills?

At least I've proven, theoretically, that one doesn't necessarily have to pay $2,000 every two years just to stay connected. I was hoping this would happen, that this trip to the past would help me overcome my wallet-destroying urge to have the newest equipment around by putting my current computing status into proper perspective.

It didn't.

As it turns out, now I'm more eager than ever to fork over the money for a new machine this fall or winter. Instead of making my current computer status seem good in comparison, I was instead reminded of how fun it is to have a brand spanking new computer and the fleeting enjoyment that comes from knowing your machine can run any darn piece of software out there. I just hope my next investment will one day be able to serve as that side table I've been needing for so long.