The one that got away: When yesterday’s junk becomes today’s treasure – Glenn Dwight

Do I keep this? Could this be worth something one day? Is this junk, or is this a future classic? Photo / 123rf

We’ve all got one. The one that got away.

And no, I am not talking about fishing, although to be fair, most of us have a few of those too, complete with wildly exaggerated hand gestures and a story that improves every time it is told.

This is about something else entirely. This is about those things we used to own.

The things we gave away, sold, broke, or moved on for next to nothing, only to discover years later they are now worth a small fortune.

A little pot of gold. Or in today’s climate, something closer to a jerry can of diesel.

The most obvious place to start is cars, because this one hurts the most.

Most of us had that first car. It usually came from an uncle, a neighbour, or someone who just wanted it gone.

The deal was always suspiciously good. Either incredibly cheap or completely free, with the only condition being “just take it away”.

And suddenly it was yours. Your car. Your independence. Your mobile storage unit.

Because for a period of time, your car wasn’t just for driving. It became an extension of your bedroom.

Shoes, sports gear, maybe a towel that had been there so long it had simply become part of the interior.

It ran. Mostly. Until one day it didn’t. Usually, right around warrant time, when reality would arrive in the form of a checklist that started small and quickly turned into a list of faults that resembled a novel.

And not a short one either, more like War and Peace. Or in this case … Car and Pieces. Rust in the firewall. The classic CV joint that always needed replacing.

And then there was the line. The one delivered by Tony the mechanic, with just the right mix of concern and opportunity.

“You could risk it … but it’ll cost you more in the long term.”

A line so well delivered it somehow turned him from villain to hero, even though the “saving you in the long term” was about to cost you everything you had in the short term.

And just like that, your car began its slow transition from a proud, roadworthy chariot into a paddock car.

Which is a very polite way of saying it no longer met any official standards, but still had a purpose somewhere out in a field.

The windows stopped working. The doors became optional. Entry and exit became a Dukes of Hazzard-style operation, whether you liked it or not. And you liked it … cue the air horn and a questionable attempt at the Dixie theme.

At the time, getting rid of it made perfect sense. It had done its job. You moved on. Your commute in life continued.

Fast forward a few years, and you are scrolling Trade Me with no real intention of buying anything – just a casual browse – and then you see it.

The exact same car. Same model, same colour, somehow in better condition.

Then you see the price.

You scroll back up. You check again. And there it is, a Buy Now price with a number that makes you seriously question every decision you made in your early 20s.

And that is when the thought arrives. If only.

If only you had kept it. If only you had fixed it. If only you had parked it in the shed instead of letting it go for what felt like a fair deal at the time.

But it is not just cars. Once you start thinking about it, you realise how many things fall into this category.

Old bikes that were once just old bikes are now “retro classics”. Furniture that was considered outdated is now “mid-century”.

Even the random stuff you cleared out as a kid to make a quick 10 bucks now feels like you accidentally cashed in something that would have been worth a lot more with a bit of patience.

And then there are things like old gaming consoles and vinyl.

There was a time when people could not give that stuff away. It sat in boxes, got replaced, and quietly disappeared.

Now it is carefully displayed and sold for prices that seem wildly out of proportion to what you remember paying for it.

Because the thing about time is that it is not as linear as we think. It moves forward, but it also loops back. Styles return. Trends recycle.

Things that were once considered outdated suddenly become cool again, sometimes without any warning at all.

One minute something is old, the next minute it is vintage, and those two things are very different depending on which side of the timeline you are standing on.

The trouble is, once you realise this, it creates a whole new problem because now you start looking at everything differently.

Do I keep this? Could this be worth something one day? Is this junk, or is this a future classic?

And this is where things can get a little dangerous.

Because there is a very fine line between someone who is wisely holding on to something for the future, and someone who is slowly filling a shed with what can only be described as potential.

You start with one thing. Then another. Then something else, just in case.

Before you know it, you are explaining to visitors, partners, neighbours, and the poor person who only knocked to read the power meter why you have three old stereos, a box of cables that do not match anything you own, and a chair that could suffer a structural failure if anyone actually sat on it.

You tell yourself it is an investment. Other people might call it something closer to a problem and suggest you are not far off appearing on an episode of Hoarders, complete with a perm… a hairstyle you have been saving since the 70s, made slightly more awkward by the fact you are now balding.

And yet, every now and then, someone gets it right. They hold on to something, look after it, resist the urge to throw it out or flick it off cheap and years later it comes back around.

So maybe the lesson is not to keep everything. But maybe it is to pause for a second before getting rid of something.

To have a quick think about whether it still has a bit of life left in it, whether it might come back around.

Because you never know.

That old car, that bike, that slightly questionable piece of furniture you were happy to see the back of … it might just have its moment again.

And you don’t want to be sitting there on Trade Me, staring at the same model you once owned, now with an asking price higher than a tank of diesel, quietly singing along to Frank Sinatra … regrets … I’ve had a few ...