I used to wear a big gold hoop earring. I used to have hair that flowed down my back, even when it was cinched into a ponytail. I wore suits with shoulder pads so wide that I had to walk sideways through doorways. And I listened to music that was a series of bleeps, plinks and plonks made by computers and synthesisers.
Despite the fact that I looked like a gay pirate (and not in a good way) or an extra from an episode of Miami Vice, and despite the fact that my music lacked all traces of soul and emotion, I look back at the 1980s with enormous fondness. And that, I guess, is how nostalgia works.
Nostalgia is a peculiar thing. It wraps the past in a warm, golden glow, smoothing over the rough edges and exaggerating the charm. We insist that music was better back then, that fashion had more character, that objects were built to last. We scoff at modern reproductions, call them cheap, dismiss them as soulless. And yet, if we were truly honest with ourselves, we’d have to admit, many of those old things weren’t all that great.
Take music. We romanticise vinyl albums, with their warm crackle and analogue purity. But let’s not forget the skips, the scratches, the inconvenience of flipping sides every twenty minutes.
Today, we carry entire discographies in our pockets. We are able to summon any song in an instant. Crystal-clear sound, no degradation over time. And yet, people chase down vintage records, desperate to recreate an experience they barely remember, or perhaps never even had.
The truth is, the objects of the past hold a special place in our minds. “They don’t make them like they used to,” we say, as we scroll through our phones. We pine for old cars and old machines, despite their poor fuel efficiency, lack of safety features, and the sheer hard work involved in making them go.
Here in the demolition and construction industry, we hanker and long for the machines of the past. The RB22, the Priestman, the Hymac.
But are those not the industry equivalent of vinyl records and sketchy 1980s fashion? Would we really swap the luxury of air-conditioned cabs, suspension seating, ROPS/FOPS protection and Bluetooth connectivity for a wooden bench and a canopy.
So what is it, really? Are we longing for quality, or are we longing for the way these things made us feel? Maybe that’s the real answer. Maybe nostalgia isn’t about the things at all. Maybe it’s about us.
We can’t hanker for a brighter future because we have no notion what that future might look like. In fact, many of those that currently work in demolition and construction might be surplus to requirements in an AI-driven and autonomous future.
So we look back. We look back to a simpler time; a time when we were all younger, fitter, healthier. A time when life stretched out before us; an adventure just waiting to begin.
We seek comfort among the trappings of the time. We look back at the VW Beetle and the Ford Capri because they transport us – figuratively - to a happier time. We look back at the construction equipment of yesteryear because it does the same; or because it reminds us of when our fathers and grandfathers were out on site, pulling levers, being deafened by noisy engines, and being choked by engine smoke.
Our forebears made do with the most rudimentary of seats. Today, we complain if our seat isn’t both heated and cooled.
The truth is that the good ol’ days weren’t really that good at all. Depending on your age, the good ol’ days might have been the world at war; a time of rickets, polio and rubella; a time of rampant unemployment and civil unrest.
And the same is true of plant and equipment. We can all look admiringly at an old RB22 or a vintage Cat. We can admire the ingenuity of the engineers of the past that devised such a machine without the help of computers and electronics. And we can get teary-eyed about the roar of the engine and the patina of the paintwork.
But would you really want to trade your push-button engine start for a crank handle? Would you switch your servo-assisted controls for great hefty levers that made your arms ache? Would you give up your air-conditioned cab for a canopy that was open to the elements?
The truth is that vintage plant is like the vinyl records of yesteryear: lovely to look at, but an unwieldy and limited pain in the arse to deal with.
Of course, the luxurious machines of today would not and could not exist without those more primitive machines of the past; and we dismiss the importance and contribution of those pioneering machines at our peril.
But if you look beyond the nostalgia, I think you’ll agree. In equipment terms at least, we have never had it so good.
This topic was the subject of an in-depth discussion on today's after show chat. You can listen to the resulting podcast here.