The laptop I write on is six years old. It is not vintage, just slightly behind. It cannot run the latest AI models locally. It does not have a neural engine. The battery barely lasts a cross-country flight.
I love it.
Slowness forces intention. When the machine cannot do everything at once, I stop asking it to. One browser tab. One terminal window. One task at a time. The friction becomes a kind of focus.
There is also the matter of longevity. Older hardware has already survived the updates that brick newer machines. Every year it keeps working feels like a small victory against planned obsolescence.
I am not saying everyone should use old computers. But there is something healthy about occasionally asking whether the newest thing is actually better, or just newer.