New #23: Sell Stuff on eBay

Retail has always been somewhat of a one-way road for me. I'll travel far and wide in search of a good sale (see New #20), letting nothing stand between me and a bargain. Yet when it comes actually making a sale - and selling the stuff I've worked so hard to buy - I always seem to have run out of gas. And when I am ready to part with something, it's usually through a quick goodbye at Goodwill.

However, this apathy toward a sale is not the way I was raised. My parents always shopped to flip an item, selling it to others for more than they paid. They sold these finds in antique stores and even in their own shops. Recently, my dad has found great success through the online auctions of eBay. So with my bank account hurting and my search of something new always itching, I decided to give it a go. And I'm happy to say it was worth the try.

I've always known the basics of selling on eBay, and it really was pretty much as simple as it seemed. You take some pictures of an item, set a price, write a description and put it up for auction to everyone in America. Easy enough. For my items, I took some of the photos myself, and others I stole from the item's company's website. (Hey, all if fair in love and the internet). I compared each item to similar ones for sale to set a middle-of-the-road starting bid. And as for the descriptions, I just laid out as much cheese and fluff as possible to make even a flower-shaped, fuzzy-rimmed picture frame sound like a must-have.

Yet as always, the devil's in the detail - and in this case, he reared his little red head when I got to the shipping part. Here, the seller has to estimate how much it will cost to send an item. But besides how much it will actually cost to mail something (which alone is hard enough to calculate), you have to factor in how much you want to make for the handling part of the "shipping and handling" - all without making a price so high it scares buyers away. I opted to keep things simple the first time around and stick to the price of flat rate Priority mail. No more, no less, and no more hassle.

With all this inputted onto each of my items' pages, it was finally time to hit the "List" button and throw open the doors of my digital auction house. In my eBay ignorance, I expected buyers to start typing in their bids as soon as they saw all the wonderful things I had to offer: the picture frame, a Roxy T-shirt and a Quicksilver cardigan (both new!), and a box of the near extinct Polaroid film. Awesome stuff that I figured anyone would love to have. Yet soon I learned not everyone shared my enthusiasm for these things, especially in the first few days. The feature that tracks how many people have viewed each item sat in the single digits for days. Very depressing, particularly for the girl who checked her eBay page about once an hour, waiting for some progress.

But as time ticked closer to the seventh day and the close of my auctions, people began to show a little bit of interest in the film and the picture frame. Toward the end, there were even a few bids placed. As I watched the little red numbers counted down the days to hours to minutes to seconds, I refreshed the page like a madman waiting for the fabled bidding wars to ensue. Sadly, this never really happened. The Polaroid did the best, yielding two bids and netting me $30. The picture frame sold for - wait for it - $1. Wow. And the two shirts never even got a bid.

While I didn't make as much money as I'd hoped, I did walk away with $31 that wasn't there before. Really, that's nice money for a few things I had collecting dust around the house. And even more importantly than the money (almost), I found a new hobby and slight addiction in selling things on eBay. Throughout the week my items were posted, I could sit in front of my computer with a purpose beyond e-mail and Facebook (and work), and check in on my auctions to see if I'd made any mula. It may still have led to some wasted time, but at least it was all for a good cause: making some money to go shopping.

New #22: Walk the Royal Gorge Bridge

There is a tiny conference room at my work where I sometimes go to escape the hustle bustle of the newsroom. Inside this windowless room hangs only one picture: a portrait of the Royal Gorge Bridge. I've always been intrigued by the photo of this monument someone decided was important enough to display at the office. Could it be that historical, that innovative, that awe-inspiring? Over Memorial Day weekend, I decided to see for myself. Turns out the gorge itself is definitely worth the fanfare. But the bridge, I soon learned, was mainly just terrifying.

The Royal Gorge (which is a giant canyon carved by the Arkansas River) is located just outside Canon City, about 2 1/2 hours south of Denver. It was a long drive, but one filled rugged and rich scenery, including white-capped mountains, rolling prairies and all of the things that make Colorado and the West so special. And the winding drive up the mountain to the gorge was no different. But all of the natural beauty came to a screeching halt when we reached the top.

Surrounding the bridge and the gorge was a Disneyland-esque amusement park, complete with tourists holding cameras and strollers, waiting in line to get in. Totally not the wild adventure I was expecting, but more of a paved, ice cream-vending, family-friendly version of the outdoors. And to top it off, it cost $25 a person to get in. Wow.

We anted up and entered the wannabe Western world built up around the natural gorge. There weren't any costume characters running around (thank God), but there was a carousel, gift shop, petting zoo and overpriced food all around. For some reason I imagined this bridge, built in 1929, would be honored more as a national monument than an amusement park ride. I guess even historians need to make a buck. And Ben and I were ready to make the most of our money spent and cross the bridge. Yet after my first few steps, and the horrifying view of below, I decided someone should have paid me to move another step further.

Our first view of the bridge.

This bridge was so scary! I guess I should have figured it would be. A few pieces of metal and wooden planks suspended more than 1,000 feet above a roaring river really doesn't sound like a cake walk - especially for a couple like Ben and I who are both afraid of heights. Oh, and the spaces between the wooden walkway that exposed the view of below didn't help, either.

Benny is scared ... and yelling at me for taking a picture.

Our view below. Don't step on a crack!

I'm not one to get scared or freeze under pressure, but there came a point where I couldn't bring myself to move another inch. Instead, I just stood there nervously laughing as everyone passed me by. Ben, (who was dealing with the fear in his own way by cussing a lot), had to grab my hand and pull me forward to keep moving. Half way across, with the wind blowing my hair in every direction, I began to feel the bridge actually sway. And looking back, we watched it and the people walking across swing back and forth. So. Scary.

Somehow, we traversed the death trap and made it to the other side. Then, after looking at the buffalo and petting some goats at the zoo, we decided to man-up and take on the bridge one more time. Luckily, we were much more brave this time, and actually got to enjoy the view of the valley and river around us. It was amazing. It looked kind of like the grand canyon, and definitely evoked the same kind of "wow" looking at it. Colorado never fails to impress me with how much awesome it can fit in one state.

Looking back at what we conquered. Below is the view half way across the bridge.

Later, the incline railway took us right down the mountain to see the river below. It was amazing to think that this rushing water was able to carve a canyon that big.

Traveling down the incline railway. We were in little cages.


Views of the railway and the bridge from below.

All in all, it was great to see the amazing natural wonder of the Royal Gorge. But next time, I think we're going to strap on our hiking boots and explore it on the road less traveled.

The Freemans are fearful of falling, but we smile through it :)