(This is the second of a nine part, self-indulgent series about me and Apple Macs. The previous part can be found here: 1. Strap in, and please keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times. You’ve been warned.)

2004 – PowerBook G4

When last we saw our hero, he/I had just purchased his/my first Apple computer, an iBook G4, and we had to suffer his/my dramatic gushings about how wonderful it was. (I shall now cease with the insufferable third/first person thing.)

The white plastic iBook G4 was a wonderful machine, a perfect introduction to the world of Apple computers (and, indeed, to Apple Computer, as it was still known back then). However, after using it for nearly a year, it started to feel not quite right. Sure, the white, glossy plastic exterior looked awesome against a consumer product market that was still predominantly grey or beige. And yes, with a 12″ screen, it was super-compact and portable and easier to tote around. But compared to my 3rd generation iPod (Classic), with its shiny metal back, and my iPod mini, with its brushed aluminium shell that screamed of classy industrial design, the iBook looked, well, cheap. Yes, I realise that this kind of a thought entrenches me well within the alleged snobbery that we Apple fanbois¹ are supposed to partake in, sneering down our noses at the sad, blocky, beige contraptions that the unwashed masses tippety-tap away at, whilst we enlightened ones clickety-click away on our chiclet keyboards, encased within slick, laser-cut, aluminium shells, whilst being continually blown by hotties. Tragically, this image of we Mac users isn’t entirely true – some of us don’t actually use chiclet keyboards². But Apple has a habit of making you, the consumer, expect more of a product. It’s no longer sufficient that a device is simply good enough – continued use of Apple devices make you expect a product that is exemplary, and forever improving. For the most of us, whilst every Apple product we buy we’re blown away by and seemingly most content with, there’s always a version that’s more powerful, more aesthetically pleasing, slightly further along the curve towards perfection. MacBook Airs are wonderful machines, but boy, I’d like a MacBook Pro with Retina Display. The iPhone 5c is an unbelievably good phone, but just look at how much better the iPhone 5s is. There’s always an increment.

And thus it was with the iBook G4. It was a great machine, but dear god, look at that aluminium PowerBook G4. Sure, it was pretty much the same processor generation, but twice as quick. Memory? Same amount, but faster. Storage? Twice as much. And, oh, the design. An aluminium case, brushed, that was about a third slimmer than the iBook. The backlit keyboard, which I’d convinced myself was a selling point, but the number of times I actually put that feature to good use I could count on no hands. So in November 2004, just 12 months after picking up the iBook, I was back in Computer Advantage once again, shopping for shiny. This time, I plumped for the 15″ model (despite there being a comparable 12″ model on the market), and I just didn’t know what to do with the acres of widescreen desktop real estate at my disposal. It was truly a wonderful machine³. And, due to some weird pay-it-forward kind of deal, my iBook trickled down the family chain to my wife, to serve as her introduction to the world of Apple products⁴.

But I’ve not drunk sufficient Kool-Aid yet to not realise the machine had flaws. Most gadgets do. Of all the Apple products I’ve had over the years, and it’s they who’ve come closest to perfection, not one of them has achieved that lofty goal. The 1st generation iPod nanos scratched easily. The iPhone 4 couldn’t make phone calls. The 3rd generation iPad (the first with a Retina display) was slow and hot. The iPhone 5‘s antenna band looked pristine and new for about 10 seconds, before it seemed to attract obvious dings and scratches by the truck-load. In the case of the PowerBook G4, or at least mine, it ran hot periodically, and when the fan kicked in to compensate it sounded like a plane taking off. The clever retracting lid latch mechanism that uses magnets and springs to extract and retract the latch when the lid is closed and opened crapped out on me in no time (first the latch bent, then decided to not engage at all.) I’m not the only one – John Siracusa went into his usual great detail about this very issue in this article at Ars Technica. And, as usual with aluminium cases, it seemed to scratch very easily. I don’t know if this is true — that it scratched more easily that my plastic iBook, or just that the iBook hid the damage better.

Notwithstanding those probably minor niggles, the PowerBook G4 was a truly great machine. Fast and powerful, with a design that was leagues apart from anything else on the market, this was a machine I was destined to keep for years. Surely.

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The postscript to this particular story is that yes, spoiler alert, I did eventually get rid of the PowerBook, but it went to a good home with a graphic designer friend of my wife, who used the shit out of it over the years. I think it might actually still be in operation in some fashion, nearly a decade after it was first released. Now that’s longevity. But I bet the lid latch still doesn’t work properly.