Condensed History of Video Games: From Tic-Tac-Toe to Pong (1952-1975)

This is part of a series. Please also see:
Condensed History of Video Games: The Rise and Fall of Atari (1975-1984)
Condensed History of Video Games: Nintendo Seal of Quality (1984-1989)


What was the first video game? The answer is not easy, because what we recognize as a "video game" has gone through much metamorphosis since the first efforts 60 years ago.

The main unifying feature of the early video games was a lack of microprocessor. All the logic was implemented in a finite-state-machine using discrete transistors or relays and vacuum tubes (for the 1950s examples) or transistor chips like the 7400-series, wired together on PCBs. Because of the cost and complexity of microcontrollers of any size, it was still de rigeur for the next decade to implement the game machine using discrete chips. The only microprocessor in the world in 1971 was the brand new Intel 4004, and that would have been extremely expensive for the simple computing needs of these machines.

Earliest efforts 

The first graphical interactive computer video game was Noughts and Crosses (that's the British term for tic-tac-toe) in 1952. It was built for the EDSAC machine at Cambridge University, which was unique to the institution. It didn't play in real time, and it was complicated. The moves were entered into the machine on a rotary telephone dial, and appeared on a dot-matrix style display of small light bulbs. It could be considered genesis, but it was unique to the EDSAC architecture and could not be ported. Nobody was interested.

The first real-time graphical interactive video game was Tennis for Two, a game quite similar to Pong, implemented on an oscilloscope by the Brookhaven National Laboratory in 1958. It was devised as a means to alleviate the boredom of visitors of the lab on the annual Visitor's Day, and quickly became popular, attracting long queues of hundreds of people. Evidently, nobody at this establishment thought that such a device was commercializable. This was clearly a missed opportunity- imagine if the first video games hit the market in the early 1960s rather than the early 1970s. This is probably the earliest video game that would be recognizable as such to a modern observer.

Respectable-looking people playing Spacewar! in 1962.

Another university effort would follow in 1962, with Spacewar! implemented on a $120,000 DEC PDP-1 mainframe at MIT. Spacewar! was just a showcase for the creativity of MIT's engineers. It was considered fun to play and it was ported to university computers throughout the United States. Such hardware was very expensive and it would have been ludicrous to dedicate a full-sized computer to running a game program all the time. It also ran on a very expensive vector display.

Paid gameplay would not yet be profitable for operators for loose change. To make the step to commercialization, video games needed something incredibly simple that could run in real-time with instantly-understandable controls, using cheap hardware, and capable of being displayed on a CRT television.

Computer Space

Nolan Bushnell first played Spacewar! in 1964 at the University of Utah, and when he graduated in 1968, he moved to California shortly thereafter. As the 1970s dawned, with prices of computer parts coming down massively, he revisited an earlier idea of making Spacewar! for a dedicated coin-operated machine for profit. Thus, the first commercial video game was Computer Space, a copy of Spacewar!'s gameplay.

 Ironically, this game was significantly more complicated than Pong or most games of the 1970s in terms of its controls. It had a button for thrust and directional buttons for motion of the craft. The machine broke gameplay down into 90-second blocks. If, after 90 seconds, you had a higher score than the two UFOs trying to shoot your craft down, you got to play another 90 seconds. Computer Space was implemented using three PCBs and some 7400-series TTL (transistor-transistor logic) chips. The device had no memory. Display was a 15" black-and-white CRT television set.

Computer Space was a minor flop and few noticed it. It worked and it was fun if you wanted to learn the controls, but customers of such devices want immediate entertainment, and coming from pinball machines, they found Computer Space a bit too geeky. What amused engineering students clearly was not the same thing as what amused the general public. Bushnell and Ted Dabney had released Computer Space through pre-existing coin-op disbtribution company Nutting Associates, but he would found Syzygy later that year. Syzygy's first design engineer was Al Alcorn, and he would work with Bushnell and Dabney to release Pong the next year. By that time, Syzygy had changed its name to Atari, Inc. Atari's name would last basically forever (since 2009, it's been used to rebrand Infogrames, a French studio with no connections to the old company), even long after the original magic was gone.

Pong

The first successful video game was Pong by any measure. But who is to get credit for it?

Atari is usually credited with it. They released Pong in 1972 at Andy Capp's Tavern in Sunnyvale, California. Worryingly, the Pong machine broke down after its first night of business. Bushnell came promptly to fix it in the morning, and he found a queue of patrons waiting to play the game. The problem was simple and quite relieving: the machine had shorted out because the receptacle for quarters (which was an old bread pan) had been filled to overflowing. Pong was, quite literally, a success from day one. It required virtually no learning curve, and the controls provided immediate feedback. Crucially for its debut, it was not so complicated that it was beyond the reach of simple-minded adults who'd just swigged a few beers.

The first home video game system, Magnavox's Odyssey, would come in 1972. The Oddysey was even simpler than Computer Space, with  logic wired in DTL (diode-transistor logic), a forerunner to TTL, and among the earliest digital logic systems conceived. The Odyssey had no sound or memory; a pad of paper was provided to keep track of  scores. Some of the internal signals sent in the Odyssey were analog. Consequently some have incorrectly labeled it as an analog computer. However, the datapath and control unit of this machine most definitely used bits for data and operated in digital logic.

Magnavox Oddysey, the first home video game system

However, the Odyssey hit the market in April 1972, which is three years earlier than Atari's home Pong game systems. And Odyssey had a Tennis game which was identical to Pong, which came out before Atari's arcade upright Pong machines ever hit the bars. In fact, Ralph Baer, the mastermind of the Odyssey, actually built his first prototype game system in 1968, including a fully-playable version of Tennis. Magnavox successfully sued all of the imitators of their tennis game, including Atari, for copying their design. I am not familiar enough on the topic to claim that Atari actually copied Tennis in making Pong, but Atari settled with Magnavox in favor of the latter, implying that some guilt existed.

Why did Atari do so well while Magnavox failed at the same time? Well, Magnavox was an established home appliance brand and it didn't really know how to sell the new Odyssey. They used them more as a lure to get people to buy high-end Magnavox televisions. Customers, crucially, did not know that the Odyssey would even work with non-Magnavox televisions. This was an enormous hurdle for the new system. Anyone at the time with a modicum of technical sophistication must have guessed that the Magnavox Odyssey would work with any television, because it was simply connected to the twin-lead (or later coax) hookup that the television normally received to connect to an antenna, but the average public wasn't familiar with modifying their televisions in any way, and they were not given confidence in the concept of home video games by Magnavox. Call it one of the most half-hearted marketing attempts of all time.

Consequently, even with a three-year head start, the home Pong systems released by Atari in 1975 put the Odyssey out of business immediately, in no small part because they were well-supported with marketing and proudly displayed: "Works on all televisions, black-and-white or color." 

To say that Pong (no matter whose version is considered) is "the first video game" is not entirely incorrect. It was the first time most average people in Western society became aware of what a "video game" was, and that it was genuinely fun entertainment, and not just a science project. The miracle was making something that did not require an engineer or computer geek to understand or enjoy; it was as easy to operate as a television. No programming or assembly required. It did not have nearly as many moving parts as a pinball machine, and it used relatively simple digital electronic circuits, making it as reliable as a television set. The craze towards video games made it a fixture in bars during the 1970s, and it spelled enormous success for Atari.

This is all a bit of speculation on my part, but looking at the whole history of video games from 1972-1982, it seems Atari might have been too stung by the failure of "nerdy" games like Computer Space and too buoyed by the success of Pong. The lesson was learned too well: from that point on, they would always keep it simple, using one or two buttons to control their games, and using switches or dials rather than multiple buttons. Even six years later, when launching the Atari 2600, one of the most iconic video game systems of all time, the default joystick controller contained just the stick and one button. By comparison, most competitors (the ColecoVision, Intellivision, and others) had at least 10 buttons on their controllers; even the fairly simple NES controller in 1985 had four buttons and a D-pad. If Atari could have imagined the future beyond the 2600, they would see that the simple approach was only temporarily best; it was good for video game beginners, but as the public got used to the simple video games, they would demand something more sophisticated.

Six weird automotive crushes

Think back to when you were in 6th grade or so. When the opposite sex was starting to become interesting to you. For some it was earlier or later than others. Myself, at about that time, I actually hurt a girl's feelings by refusing to be interested, simply because I wasn't ready yet to "like" girls. Sorry Ali! In retrospect, you were very pretty, very nice, and I was an idiot.

As far as boys are concerned, there was usually a "prettiest" girl who gathers all of the affection and is the first girl in the class to figure out how to use it to gain power over boys. The others will probably learn later. But this girl is used to getting all the attention. She's Ferarri. Ironically, her prettiness makes her such an obvious choice, that it becomes boring to think of her.

In comparison, there are are utterly plain girls who do nothing interesting at all. This would be the Toyota Camry or the fourth-gen Ford Taurus. If you like these models, you are akin to the man who genuinely wants a completely vanilla marriage with no surprises or headaches, but no passion whatsoever. Maybe I'm just jealous because I'm not so easily pleased, but I kinda hate you guys.

Just as with women, there are choices of automobile which are esoteric and cannot easily be explained. You'd lack the ability to convince someone to love her as much as you do, but you don't even want to try: the exclusivity of your love makes it a bit more special.

6. Isuzu Impulse Turbo

Mm, pizza.

What's an Impulse? It was also known abroad as the Isuzu Piazza, which sounds like it should have been a great name in the US since so many of us love pizza.

Joe Isuzu in the 1980s and 1990s was such a blatant, humorous liar, that he charmed viewers into liking Isuzu even when their product was occasionally regarded as the most uninspired that Japan had to offer (although still probably better than most American cars in the mid-1980s).

Modern Isuzus (those made in the late 90s to today) betray the utterly negligent management they received from GM. Seems like the design team for almost every model (Ascender, Axiom, i-Series) just took a vanilla GM design and added some clunky metalwork to the front. Maybe somebody at Isuzu had a fetish for braces? Metal dental work is the only consistent piece of design language from this brand until it foundered in 2008. 

Isuzu's best hour was in 1968, with the pretty and luxurious 117 Coupe, which looks as though someone took a second-gen Corvair coupe and gave it a DOHC motor and Euro-luxury interior. They've never been bold like Mazda or Honda, but they can do competent engineering.

The Impulse is refreshingly interesting to behold and a fairly good performer with a 2.0L turbo-4 cranking out 180 hp. Still, it's not so much a car as a prop in this ridiculous commercial. If I owned one, I swear that I would tell people with a totally straight face that it does 950 mph. In the meantime, even at 9.5 mph, it should be pretty entertaining to drive with a big 80's turbo (read: incredible turbo lag) and rear-wheel drive. At the time, the latter was already becoming uncommon among all cars, even performance machines. The RWD layout of this car was still de rigeur in 1980 when it was launched, but by 1990 when it was time to redesign, they switched to wrong-wheel-drive and ditched the funky cheese-wedge styling for a new body so featureless that I can't even be bothered to remember what it looks like.  

The mainstream Japanese giants Toyota, Honda, and Nissan never seem to have financial difficulties or take big risks. This makes it hard for me to love them.  It's easy to forget that there are small, troubled Japanese automakers too. Unique Subaru and plucky Mazda are the only standard-bearers, with Isuzu and Suzuki dead and Mitsubishi not far behind it. Sure, a CRX Si would be better in every tangible way (except that it's front-wheel drive) but the little Isuzu is the underdog. The Impulse is not quite good enough to win on points, but it does win your heart for trying. The wedge shape and that fabulous commercial make it a car that I unexpectedly love.

Ever met her?
Nope, I've never even seen one in person. I doubt that it would enthrall me as much as it did when I was a young'un. The cost of entry would likely be cheap, but it's not a common car to see. If I am in a situation where I can blow some money on a cheap, fun little machine and this pops up, I might do it.

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5.     Chevrolet Berettz GTZ 

If you're gasping for breath with laughter, just take it GT-EZ (see my terrible pun?) and think about how advanced the Quad-4 engine was when it debuted in 1988. At a time in which the base V8 in a Camaro put down 190 hp, the Quad-4 put down 180 hp and nearly as much torque. It also happened to a be a four-cylinder engine with just 2.3L displacement and no turbocharger. Madness to see such a product from an American company.

But when you add in the Beretta name, it's like multiplying by zero. Nothing comes of it. I think no pair of names in history is as forgettable as Chevy Beretta and Corsica. They're like the annoying kid in gym class who doesn't bring deodorant and doesn't take showers at home. You don't really like him, even if he seems nice enough. He's forced to hang around with you because you're both in the same public school (kinda like GM forcing the Beretta and Corsica into showrooms for 9 years because the design was bought and paid for). But most crucially: you really don't care if he doesn't exist.

This is a GT, not a GTZ. But LOOK at that greenhouse!

Yep, that was the reviled Beretta. But I don't smell the body odor. It looks pretty nice to me. The front end, especially on the GTZ, is very clean. It's quite slick if you see one in good shape. 

The windows look cartoonishly big compared to the doors and the rest of the car. I reckon if you could lower the back fixed windows, you'd have a profile nearly as open and airy as a Renault Avantime. Suck in that oxygen and feel the Heartbeat of America! I also like how the magnificent rear end is even more 1980s than a DeLorean. It's just inimitable! And also how EVERY SINGLE GTZ came with body-colored wheels. That's just silly, and I approve.

For those who care, this car when new did 0-60 mph in 7.6 seconds and recorded the highest  slalom speeds for a front-wheel drive car of the time.

Ever met her?

I've seen oodles of them in my time, but I've never sat in one or driven one. Maybe all the squeaks and rattles would drive it off this list if I actually did. But this girl is like a freckled redhead who's not that pretty, or cultured, or even very reliable, but she fights for your attention even if you don't notice. And if you do, you might notice hidden talents.

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4.     Bentley Turbo R

We're getting into serious desire here. Just say the name "Bentley Turbo" in your head in Darth Vader's voice and see if it doesn't give you goose pimples. Leave out the "R" at the end. It sounds extraneous. Just "Bentley Turbo" will suffice.

This is perhaps the most obvious choice on this list. But I pick it because it's still sporting like a Bentley should be, unlike all previous Bentleys of the 1950s through the 1980s, without carrying the enormous price tag of the subsequent Arnage that replaced it. The Bentley Turbo is a lot of car for the money, but it's really been totally overshadowed by the subsequent models from Bentley. 

The thing about this car is that it's like a little princess, except her standards are messed up. She doesn't actually cost very much. As princesses go (or as compared to other specialist European cars), she's actually rather reliable. But when your relationship does go sour, where do you find a therapist fit for a princess (read: mechanic who knows Bentleys)?

But this is a car with old-world British luxury, dignified beauty, real leather or genuine wood on every single touchable surface, and a turbocharged 6.75L V8 providing 300 hp and 660 Nm of torque. This modern classic that I've just described has good examples available in the US for under $20k, and maybe even cheaper if you live in the United Kingdom from which this princess came.

A package like that sounds like Anne Hathaway, but when you look at the price you'll swear that she's as attainable as the chick sitting next to you in your 11th grade English class. Of course, you will still deal with a bit of fussiness and daintiness. But buying this car is like deciding you want a totally perfect car that sometimes goes wrong, rather than a decent car that works all the time.

Ever met her?

No, but it's not for want of looking. I still see several on ebay all the time, so they are still floating around. After I graduate college and make more substantial income, I could seriously consider giving in to this infatuation. If I see a cream puff in Texas for $18k with a nice dark green paint coat, I might be driven mad.

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3.     Alfa Romeo 164

I totally understand why nobody bought this car new. It was just too expensive for what it was. It's like a pretty girl with unbelievably high standards who chews out almost every guy who ever asked her out. And when she did find a guy, she picked his wallet clean, chastised him for every mistake he made, until he got fed up and left her. This carried on until the supply of willing suitors dried up.

If you pick up any Alfa that has always been in good shape, it's cost every single one of their boyfriends (excuse me, OWNERS) a pretty penny. Because if you break the chain of conscientious Alfa ownership, and sell it to someone who neglects maintenance, the Alfa Romeo will not stand for it. Every single system will independently fail in protest. The electrics will defy the laws of physics so as to fail at the worst time. I don't know Alfas personally, but I've read so many horror stories on the internet and heard enough on Top Gear to believe the doom mongers. 

But an Alfa is just so intrinsically perfect in so many ways. It's something that simply cannot be created outside of Italy. Alfa Romeo actually covers the inlet pipes of its 3.0L V6 in chrome, which is one aspect of the car that always seems pristine no matter how ragged the car is. It has a heart of gold. No matter how hard it is to free the car of its unwillingness to run, you feel like you're fighting the good fight and it's always worth it.

That beating heart exists in all Alfa Romeos, even if they don't have mainstream aesthetic appeal. On this note, enter the Alfa Romeo 164. 

It doesn't have mainstream appeal. It doesn't have the youthful appearance of a Spider, but it doesn't have the solid appearance of a Bentley or Mercedes. It's somewhere in the middle, and as it comes at a low point of world car design (c. 1990) it looks so dated that you'd really struggle to ever get an average American to believe it's a beautiful car.

Sharing a platform with Saab, Lancia, and Fiat allowed Alfa to produce what was probably their most reliable car to date. The 164 still had the same glorious 3.0L V6 and enthusiastic 2.0L TwinSpark as their previous models, but it was in a more modern package. It was comfortably sized for four adults, but was light enough to provide decent performance with the V6.

And WHAT an interior. I still think that the modernist way they arranged the center console is one of the most imaginative uses of a car interior ever. It's just undeniably gorgeous. Pardon the dreadful picture.

Ever met her?

I have seen one of these parked outside a junkyard, though its condition was nice enough to assure me that it wasn't being dropped off there. I actually had to pull over and take a look. It was white, the interior looked great, but it was a bit dusty on the outside. Still, it looks even better in the flesh than I can show you in the pictures. Regardless of that, you can see 164s going for insane low prices. Maybe not 1000 GBP like on the Cheap Alfa Romeo Challenge in Top Gear Series 11, episode 3, but definitely for $3-5k you have options. Certainly one of the cheapest Italian exotics around. If you want really low mileage and fastidious maintenance records, I don't see any options unless you go over $10k.

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2.     Dodge Magnum

I'm going to take it down a few notches from the previous swoopy, silky Italian luxury sedan. How about a big ol' American wagon?

First I want to congratulate them for the name. For everyone around my age, the word "Magnum" meant one thing: the most powerful handgun available in Goldeneye 007 for N64, which was the best game in the world when it came out in 1997. I even preferred that Cougar Magnum to the bigger shotgun and RCP-90 because the Magnum's rate of fire and accuracy was surprisingly high. Kudos to Dodge for using a classic name (Dodge Magnum had been around before) and then resurrecting it when it had new meaning.

Wagons don't get any cred, but they're the ultimate vehicle. You have a car with rear wheel drive and ample size for family and hauling.  In the rear of the wagon, you have a place to sit and post up, like a tailgate on a pickup, except stuff doesn't get stolen out of the back! A station wagon with rear-wheel drive is also great because it puts more of the weight of the vehicle over the driven rear wheels, which improves grip. Compare that to an unloaded pickup, with very little of the vehicle's weight over the driven rear wheels, which can spin extremely easily.

Wagons also beat minivans because all minivans are front-wheel drive, and they're very top-heavy. Some (but not all) wagons are real-wheel drive, which is better. And all wagons are necessarily lower, longer, and wider (the Detroit styling mantra for 40 years) than minivans, which are top-heavy, bulbous, and tall. Pulling off a stylish wagon is not hard for Detroit to do if they try (just do a Google image search for any pre-1972 wagon shape, they all look nice).

The only downside to wagons is that no mainstream manufacturers are bold enough to release an all-new full-size RWD platform with a wagon option.

Except when Chrysler decided to launch its LX platform in 2004. This was a modern automobile platform that would go on to win awards when launched with the Chrysler 300 and Dodge Charger sedans. But the first of them all, the very vanguard of the entire range, was the Dodge Magnum wagon.

There's not a huge amount to say. What you see is what you get. The dash is a bit plasticky and it's not as luxurious as the Chrysler 300C, which I love (my uncle has one). But it's basically the same car, and so it has lots of space and everything is fairly ergonomic. The only thing I really hate is the green-blue glow of the dials, with which every modern Chrysler Corp. driver should be familiar.

The piece de resistance is that there were TWO trim levels with V8s. The R/T had a 340-hp 5.7L Hemi, and the SRT8 had a truly scary 425-hp 6.1L Hemi. Either one, I have no doubt, would be great fun. 425-hp V8 in a rear-wheel drive full-size American (made in Canada) station wagon. No more needs to be said. The only reason I'm calling this a weird crush is that they didn't sell many of them, and they killed it off in 2008 for no good reason. The last experiment with wagons went awry- the American people no longer have a taste for them. It's like a cute performance at a talent show by a pretty girl and for some reason everybody boos and I'm the only one who claps. And then the girl comes crying into my arms, holding onto me. Letting me be a knight in shining armor. Oh yes, wagon baby, you'll always have a place in my heart, even if nobody else loves you. It's an automotive fantasy!

Ever met her?

I suppose I should say yes, I have driven a Magnum when I worked at Brake Check. I was test-driving it after a brake job. But since it was a base 2.7L V6 with 150,000 miles, and needed suspension work which the owner refused, it wasn't exactly a great drive. Still, that doesn't put me off. I would love to own an SRT8 or R/T. Of all the recent Mopar products, I would have a Viper money-no-object. (Obviously!) But on balance, all things considered, I like the Magnum quite a lot. If I had to have exactly one car to do everything, this might well be it.

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1.     Chevrolet Camaro (third-generation)

When I was 4 years old or so, the year was 1992 and they still made these new. I still saw them on a daily basis from the window of my mom's station wagon. And then I kept seeing them from the school bus when I started going to school. My very earliest memory of all automobiles, is me being awestruck by the styling of this car and the sound of its engine. Maybe I owe a thank-you to some loutish cretin who revved the engine at a red light in Toledo in the spring of '93 to scare some slowpoke next to him. Or maybe that memory never happened and I imagined it. Who cares?

For whatever reason, I was absolutely convinced in my young boy's heart that this car must be the fastest and coolest in the world. I didn't know any better. But that primitive desire has never left me. I've always wanted one.

Since about age 12, even after I knew better, I have always wanted to buy up the most perfect 1988 Camaro in the United States and paint it in the brightest metallic candy-apple red imaginable, and then transport it across the world to every continent, and act as a sort of impromptu "cultural ambassador" of the United States and its car culture. This car and the 1980s Chevrolet commercials spout optimism, freedom, confidence, integrity, and exuberance. These are what the world should think of America. We should not be thought of as nannying wimps who want to put 232 airbags in every dashboard, draft the most ridiculous business regulations conceived by humankind, and use one of the most bullying foreign policies ever seen on Earth since the Opium Wars.

I want to do EVERYTHING with it. I want to take it to England and have some old Englishman with a beard and an MG tell me that my car is "vulgar" and "excessive". Because I'll just smile and thank him for his opinion. I want to drive around the Arc de Triomphe with one of these. I want to overtake a Mercedes SL on the Autobahn, en route to a few white-knuckled laps at the Nurburgring. I want to drive it through Seoul at 7 mph, and let the V8's rumbly idle turn the heads of people who've never heard such an engine in their lives. I want to park it on the street in Tokyo and see what the curious tuner kids think of it. I want to drive it through Australia and mingle with the fascinating old muscle cars they have there. And, of course, I'm dying for any number of road trips across the USA, racking up miles while visiting any number of small western towns with their greasy diners and friendly local yokels.

I think this is a perfect cultural emblem of Americana. It's beautifully sculpted. It's cheap. It stands for fun and freedom. The 3rd gen will always be youthful no matter how many middle-aged people buy brand new Camaros. From the back, the front, the profile, and any angle in between, this vehicle is impossibly good-looking to someone who likes American design. And for me, even a 1967 Camaro or a Duesenberg SJ simply can't look as good.


As I grew older, and whenever I confided this desire to others, I was always laughed at. There is no shortage of hate for 80s GM products, especially the F-body. Here are some things that have been mentioned, and I'm not sure about all of them:

1. The dashboard was never properly fitted even when new, so some of the plastic was under tension; it loosens over time, and gets more squeaks and rattles than any other car.
2. The door hinges are not bolted on like normal. They are actually welded. This saves maybe 24 cents in the production process, but it means that after a few years the weight of those heavy doors opening on the welded hinges will cause sagging and misalignment.
3. The Fox-body Mustang was always dynamically better, with more power potential. And if you got the LX 5.0, it was cheaper than the Z-28 with 5.7L.
4. It came standard with a 2.5L Iron Duke 4-cyl engine with about 90 hp. If you got this in 1982 with the 3-speed automatic, it did 0-60 in 20 seconds, which is about as fast as a school bus towing a Boeing 747.
5. The ride was rock hard and it was so low with such a long hood that you'd never see out.
6. If you buy one, you must necessarily be trailer trash and/or wear a mullet. It's like a tattoo saying "I'm white trash."

But I don't care what they say. I love this car. I always will. Sometimes I find myself wanting it even more than a brand new Corvette. Just make it exactly like I remember it from when I thought it was the world's fastest car. I just want one because a part of me still believes it's the coolest car ever made. And I've never heard of anyone who feels the same way, so this must be an obsession particular to me. I am the only one who prefers this 80s machine over the original 60s pony car. This love feels extremely special and quite unique, and I'll never get sick of loving this little bastard, so it goes at the top of the list, even if I can't adequately explain why.

One of my friends tells me that I'm hopelessly stupid about this and that the Fox Mustang was always dynamically better, both when new and when modified. Tells me that at the dragstrip it couldn't hold its own. Tells me that you hardly see these cars in any serious performance situation, compared to other generations of Camaro, or contemporaneous Mustangs. But I don't care. This is all stuff that a guy has been told by his best friend when he's in love with a girl. Doesn't matter what that guy or anyone else says, you're in love!

Ever met her?

One of my uncles had a black 1990s Pontiac Firebird, but it was 4th gen, so it wasn't quite the same thing. I have ridden in a white 3rd gen Camaro which was owned by a friend in high school , but it wasn't a Z-28. I don't remember it being very roomy or refined, but to complain about that is like claiming that if you were God you'd make the sun slightly less bright and the moon slightly bigger. If the overall whole is so damn good, what makes me think it would be better if I tried to improve it? (That doesn't mean I won't upgrade the engine; I think a supercharged LT1 is in order.)

Updated: The barrier for entry is higher than it used to be for a vehicle in the same condition, but it's still extremely low. I routinely see these things in non-running condition for well under $1000, or in running condition for under $2k.  Find an ugly original one parked on a lawn and you can probably buy it with the loose change in your sofa if you made an immediate cash offer. Truly excellent examples (like the one I crave) are more than they used to be, but they're still in the neighborhood of $10k, which would only get you a halfway-completed project 1967 Camaro.

Hall of Fame #2: IBM Model M Keyboard

My desktop. The monitor's size is 23", to give a sense of scale.

Here it is, the grand-daddy of all keyboards. You should still recognize it, even if it looks a little cartoonishly big. If the clip art on your computer is old enough, and if there is an icon of a keyboard, it probably looks like this. Just like the "three box" approach is used to generate rough sketches of a generic car, the beige rectangular slab is used to generate a rough sketch of a keyboard.

The Model M is the exemplar of beige rectangular slabs. And what's wrong with beige? I wish I could get new monitors in beige. I wish that Antec sold brand new cases in beige. Beige will represent quality to me for a long time to come.

This design first saw the light of day in 1985, smack dab in the middle of IBM's glory days in the PC market. By the mid-90s, IBM had been overtaken by Compaq, and it would eventually slip to a measly fourth place by the turn of the millennium. IBM exited the PC market altogether in 2005. Their original base had long since abandoned them, and the new computers were basically conventional, with no unique features.

Actually, even the original IBM PC was not very unique. It used largely off-the-shelf equipment and it was not a proprietary design; all vendors could make accessories, software, and add-ons for it. This was the true revelation that let the original 1981 PC immediately gobble up a big chunk of the market. IBM's main claim to the design was the BIOS, and the fact that they got Microsoft to work with them on it. But during the rest of the decade, IBM would clutch at straws and try to get a bigger piece of the unexpectedly big pie. They failed at every measure.

When Microsoft saw the IBM ship of state sinking, they dumped them, and let IBM go it alone with their disastrous OS/2. In the meantime, Microsoft launched Windows. The other great rationalization of the market was that Intel, which originally invented the microprocessor in 1971, had used their 8086 as original equipment in the 1981 PC, and this was the springboard for their iron-fisted x86 domination of the CPU market. Between Windows and Intel, there was a de facto standard put into place; by 1987, "Wintel" was 85% of the marketplace for home computers, and it would go well above 90% in the 1990s.

IBM was known for great keyboards at least as early as the excellent Selectric typewriter from 1961. And in the 1980s, it was still desirable to produce a keyboard that produced the same kind of tactile feedback as a typewriter. That's the design philosophy of the Model M. And people loved it. The keyboard was actually one of the main selling points of the IBM PC. When IBM made their uninspired PC, Jr. it was a terrible flop, in no small part because it had a crummy, cheaper keyboard.

But let me finally get to the point- why is this keyboard so legendary that you still see it in use on aficionado desktops worldwide, long after the original IBM PCs and monitors have become worm food?

Behold the reasons!

• Technology. The IBM Model M uses buckling springs, which functions just like it sounds. There is a spring inside each key, and when pressed, it will be forced downwards and at an angle until it "buckles", in which case the hammer underneath will strike an electrical contact that registers the keystroke. The spring is not strictly necessary for this process, and is universally absent from modern keyboards (except Unicomp, which makes legacy Model Ms and some updated versions). The effect of the spring is to provide tactile feedback; it feels "clicky" and robust.

• Build quality. This is a solid product that will last for decades and some. The 1990 keyboard that you see in the picture was not nearly the most expensive one available, but it's in cream puff condition. The hardware is all tough, heavy, and mechanical; it simply won't break in normal use, ever.  The IBM Model M weighs over 5 lb and it's absolutely the last thing on your desktop that is likely to slide about. Its footprint is huge and so it's a poor choice for tiny desks, but if you are a serious typist, you absolutely must make the space for a keyboard this good. The heft of this keyboard is sufficient that you could use it to beat someone to death. Or you could probably split a tinny-ass Macbook LCD screen in half with one wallop.

• Ease of longevity. Not only was it made to last, it's made to be easy to keep going. If you have dirty keycaps, all of them are removable and can be cleaned with soapy water. The base can be cleaned. The top of the case can be cleaned. Each part of the keyboard is designed for disassembly. Even the screws and nuts are decently robust; certainly, they're a far cry from the "mystery metal" 10,000/$1 pieces of Chinese hardware we have seen flood all newer appliances.

• Place of assembly. I don't mean to keep banging on about it, but the fact that this keyboard was made in the USA means something to me. That tells me it was produced in a factory where the workers could earn enough of a living to own their homes at some point, and have health insurance, and raise kids. 

• Value. Yes, I'm aware that the Chinese can make keyboards that are cheap enough to sneak into the Dollar Store. They can still make a keyboard for an on-shelf price of $5, which is probably less than a big American company like IBM would spend simply on the employee insurance per keyboard. But quality still matters, and cheap keyboards are a false economy for all the headaches with sticky, rubbery keys. You will still spend $20 at minimum for a rugged keyboard that will cope well with demanding typists. And at that price, you're getting very close to the used IBM Model M anyway, which can be found on ebay for as low as $25. And if you do buy a keyboard with all the bells and whistles anyway, it's highly probable you'll be spending closer to $100, which is enough to get you a brand new Unicomp Model M with all the quality and strength of the original IBM design. Actually, given how satisfying, reliable, and long-lasting the Model M has been for many people (including me), it truly is a bargain that no other manufacturer can touch.

Other notes:

1. I cannot afford a brand-new Unicomp, but somebody has to buy them new or else the market will simply vanish. We can't go on the old IBM/Lexmark batch forever. So if you are considering a new high-end keyboard, give 'em a shot.
2. If you think desktops are outdated, go soak your head. And then leave a comment telling me how much you spent on your laptop and what it can do compared to my homemade $600 desktop.
3. A clumsy ex-girlfriend once spilled a glass of water on my keyboard. It immediately malfunctioned and I assumed that it was toast, that there sure would be fatal short circuits. Actually, I tilted it to the side, the water drained out, and I hung it over the sink to dry. When it was dry, it worked perfectly fine again. I find that absolutely astonishing for a 22-year-old piece of equipment.
4. This piece of hardware was appreciated when new, but it meets the Hall of Fame criterion of under-appreciation by today's standards because few people still know about it. And it remains relevant! Buy one today, it's still the best!