Sure, only if you haul away the other 14 giant objects as well! And at least lie to me well enough that they will all go to a good home :)

I've got a QX-949. It certainly has a sound to it and it is lacking in neither gravity nor power. I know what it is and when the time is right, I'll take the time to sell it to the right buyer. But the 949, despite its enormity, is small enough that I can drop it off at the UPS Store and have them pack it up for me and guarantee intact delivery.

But that's just one sale on eBay for a thing that I know well, and that relates to an interest that I have.

Maintaining many sales on eBay is hard work, and maintaining many sales on eBay for stuff you're just trying to get rid of is a mountain of work.

And quite frustratingly, it's easy to find people who have strong opinions about other people's junk.

A house I bought once came with apartments upstairs, and one of them included a General Motors-designed fridge from the 1950s or 60s.

It worked well and the hardware was in good shape. It was free of meaningful rust. It was quiet. It would've been a great and simple restoration project for the right person, and some boomer might have eventually been very happy with paying quite a lot to have it softly purring away in their nostalgia cave.

I didn't want it at all. It was in the way of the process of turning the cheap clapped-out house I'd bought into a place where my family could live. It was just junk to me; vintage refrigerators aren't my bag.

And everyone who came by and saw it went through the same sequence: First, they admired it as an odd and somewhat beautiful anachronism. Then, they asked if it still worked, and opened the door and poked around with a melancholy sense of astonishment.

After that, unilaterally, they came the same revelation: "Well, you can't just get rid of it! That's worth a lot of money!"

Fine, whatever: If they think it's worth money, then they can certainly have some of it. I'd first offer to have them sell it and broker the deal, so we'd both make some cash from what was obviously something worth selling. "Go ahead and sell it," I'd say. "You want a 60/40 split? How does 80/20 sound? Let's chat."

Nobody took that deal. It was too much work for them to conceive of actually doing it.

And then, I'd offer to let them just have it, on the condition that it simply disappear and that it never be returned to me again. After all: If it's worth so much money, then it's a great bargain at the low, low cost of free. For a long time, nobody took that deal, either: This was also too much work.

---

Eventually, a couple of gristly dudes of indeterminate age came and hauled it down the stairs and into the bed of their pickup truck.

They didn't pay a dime for it, and they didn't scratch up the walls or those steep, tall stairs in any meaningful way.

They sold it for scrap, I'm sure, and it probably got turned into new Chevrolets or something... and I just don't care. The important part was that it finally disappeared and was never seen by me again.

I was very happy that someone finally took the deal. But that deal took years.

One man's trash may in fact be another man's treasure, but getting those two men into the same room at the same time can approach impossibility.