Over the course of my career, I've noticed a trend in many fields of study: Novices, hangers-on, dabblers, and other folks tend to buy mid-to-high-end gear, thinking they'll "grow into it", but in reality, secretly hoping the gear will do the work for them.
Whereas the truly skilled are often the folks with lower-end equipment, but who can do some absolutely amazing stuff with it.
I've seen it in cyber. I've seen it in photography. I've seen it in woodworking. I've seen it in firearms. I've seen it in vehicles. And on, and on.
Of course, there are opposites in each camp: Novices with low-end gear, and experts and wizards with high-end gear.
The difference is that the wizards with the high-end gear can also make garbage sing. And the novices with the trash-tier gear are hopefully going to run it until they've exhausted its capabilities and truly outgrown it before graduating to something better.
The gear doesn't make you good. You make you good, through training and practice. When you see someone amazing doing amazing things with really expensive stuff, it's usually because it either addresses an extremely specific need they have, and/or because it makes something they can do with other, lesser gear easier, and they could afford the upgrade for the convenience.
People often mistake this demonstration of ability for a property of the gear, rather than the operator.
Don't be that person.
You want to take photos? Buy an inexpensive camera in whatever format you prefer, and get to work. Learn everything you can. Exhaust the possibilities your equipment offers you. By then, you'll have enough skill and knowledge to know what to buy next. Or, you may realize that you're quite happy with what you've got, and continue to develop your skill and technique with it.
The same is true in just about any endeavor. It's not about the gear. It's all about you. Gear isn't a short cut. It's arguable that being bad and buying higher-end gear may actually hinder rather than help you, because you don't know what you don't know, or what you're not capable of.
Plus, I've found that working with lower-end gear builds a repertoire of approaches to problems you just don't get when you use an easy button to get there. You learn different ways to solve the same problem, making you more flexible and resilient.
Radio comms are a great example: Anyone can spend money on an antenna. But can you build one? Do you know how? Did you know that a field-expedient antenna may actually outperform all but the most expensive commercial antennas you can buy?
Don't rely on high-tech, high-dollar solutions to your gaps in skill and knowledge. If you have a burning need to spend money, spend it on training. The more you learn, the more you develop your skills, the more you'll understand how to get the most out of what you have, what its limitations may be, and where, when, and with what you may want to supplement by buying additional or more capable equipment.
My primary AR is a good example. I've had this thing for almost a couple of decades. It was my first AR, and I built it myself. The upper, lower, and barrel were a matched set I bought from a small gunsmith way back when. Since then, I've changed the handguard, the trigger, the BCG, removed the A2 front sight, and swapped out various furniture and optics over time. But the core rifle, including the barrel, is still the same old budget build I started with (though I should probably start considering a barrel replacement, now that I mention it). I didn't buy a KAC, or a DD out of the gate. I bought what I could afford (I didn't know about PSA at the time), and I wanted the experience of building my own. Any gunsmithing done on it has been my doing.
I've yet to outgrow or outshoot it. It's served me well. The rollmark doesn't matter. What matters is that I'm proficient with it, it does the job, it holds up, and I've yet to need anything "better". I've rung steel out to 400m with it, consistently, and have hit out to 600 in the past. I know what it likes to eat, and how it behaves in various conditions. I know when it needs to be wet, and when it can run drier than usual. I know how long I can go before a cleaning is more than just a weekend meditation for me, but a necessity for the rifle.
I do some fairly high-end cyber work. I do it on a run-of-the-mill Dell laptop. Whenever I need significantly more horsepower, I farm it out to on-demand cloud instances. I didn't feel the need to buy a top-end laptop, or have a massive desktop tower with multiple high-dollar GPUs. And I've been doing this for 40 years now. Because I know it's a tool, and all the talent and knowledge resides in me, not it.
I've done the same with motorcycles. I once tracked a sport-touring bike at Thunderhill raceway. When everyone else was on R6s or R1s, or 'busas, etc. Did I scuff my knee pucks? No, but that has more to do with my riding position, the bike geometry, and center of gravity for that bike/rider combo than it does my skill as a rider. There were no chicken strips on those tires when I was done. I maxed out the engine in the straights, and was taking turns around 90-100mph. I didn't ever feel the need to get a pure sports bike, because I don't like the riding position, and tend to enjoy a more conservative ride. Not because I'm not capable, but because that's how I prefer to ride.
A journey of knowledge is a journey of self-discovery. As you learn more about a topic, you also learn more about yourself. Particularly as you practice. Both are equally important. Arguably, the self-knowledge is more important, because it guides your continued learning, growth, and development.
Whereas the truly skilled are often the folks with lower-end equipment, but who can do some absolutely amazing stuff with it.
I've seen it in cyber. I've seen it in photography. I've seen it in woodworking. I've seen it in firearms. I've seen it in vehicles. And on, and on.
Of course, there are opposites in each camp: Novices with low-end gear, and experts and wizards with high-end gear.
The difference is that the wizards with the high-end gear can also make garbage sing. And the novices with the trash-tier gear are hopefully going to run it until they've exhausted its capabilities and truly outgrown it before graduating to something better.
The gear doesn't make you good. You make you good, through training and practice. When you see someone amazing doing amazing things with really expensive stuff, it's usually because it either addresses an extremely specific need they have, and/or because it makes something they can do with other, lesser gear easier, and they could afford the upgrade for the convenience.
People often mistake this demonstration of ability for a property of the gear, rather than the operator.
Don't be that person.
You want to take photos? Buy an inexpensive camera in whatever format you prefer, and get to work. Learn everything you can. Exhaust the possibilities your equipment offers you. By then, you'll have enough skill and knowledge to know what to buy next. Or, you may realize that you're quite happy with what you've got, and continue to develop your skill and technique with it.
The same is true in just about any endeavor. It's not about the gear. It's all about you. Gear isn't a short cut. It's arguable that being bad and buying higher-end gear may actually hinder rather than help you, because you don't know what you don't know, or what you're not capable of.
Plus, I've found that working with lower-end gear builds a repertoire of approaches to problems you just don't get when you use an easy button to get there. You learn different ways to solve the same problem, making you more flexible and resilient.
Radio comms are a great example: Anyone can spend money on an antenna. But can you build one? Do you know how? Did you know that a field-expedient antenna may actually outperform all but the most expensive commercial antennas you can buy?
Don't rely on high-tech, high-dollar solutions to your gaps in skill and knowledge. If you have a burning need to spend money, spend it on training. The more you learn, the more you develop your skills, the more you'll understand how to get the most out of what you have, what its limitations may be, and where, when, and with what you may want to supplement by buying additional or more capable equipment.
My primary AR is a good example. I've had this thing for almost a couple of decades. It was my first AR, and I built it myself. The upper, lower, and barrel were a matched set I bought from a small gunsmith way back when. Since then, I've changed the handguard, the trigger, the BCG, removed the A2 front sight, and swapped out various furniture and optics over time. But the core rifle, including the barrel, is still the same old budget build I started with (though I should probably start considering a barrel replacement, now that I mention it). I didn't buy a KAC, or a DD out of the gate. I bought what I could afford (I didn't know about PSA at the time), and I wanted the experience of building my own. Any gunsmithing done on it has been my doing.
I've yet to outgrow or outshoot it. It's served me well. The rollmark doesn't matter. What matters is that I'm proficient with it, it does the job, it holds up, and I've yet to need anything "better". I've rung steel out to 400m with it, consistently, and have hit out to 600 in the past. I know what it likes to eat, and how it behaves in various conditions. I know when it needs to be wet, and when it can run drier than usual. I know how long I can go before a cleaning is more than just a weekend meditation for me, but a necessity for the rifle.
I do some fairly high-end cyber work. I do it on a run-of-the-mill Dell laptop. Whenever I need significantly more horsepower, I farm it out to on-demand cloud instances. I didn't feel the need to buy a top-end laptop, or have a massive desktop tower with multiple high-dollar GPUs. And I've been doing this for 40 years now. Because I know it's a tool, and all the talent and knowledge resides in me, not it.
I've done the same with motorcycles. I once tracked a sport-touring bike at Thunderhill raceway. When everyone else was on R6s or R1s, or 'busas, etc. Did I scuff my knee pucks? No, but that has more to do with my riding position, the bike geometry, and center of gravity for that bike/rider combo than it does my skill as a rider. There were no chicken strips on those tires when I was done. I maxed out the engine in the straights, and was taking turns around 90-100mph. I didn't ever feel the need to get a pure sports bike, because I don't like the riding position, and tend to enjoy a more conservative ride. Not because I'm not capable, but because that's how I prefer to ride.
A journey of knowledge is a journey of self-discovery. As you learn more about a topic, you also learn more about yourself. Particularly as you practice. Both are equally important. Arguably, the self-knowledge is more important, because it guides your continued learning, growth, and development.
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