I have a spreadsheet outlining every diecast I own, and for every entry there is a lie I am telling myself.  

One of the tabs of the spreadsheet is “price paid,” and every single one of them is false. That’s because next to “price paid,” hiding cowardly in parentheses, is “minus shipping.” This indicates the listed dollar amount is only for the diecast, not the price I paid to actually have it in my possession. I do this because the dollar figures on the spreadsheet entries are far easier to swallow when shipping is excluded, especially considering most cars in my collection were purchased online. And that’s why it’s a spreadsheet of lies. Half-truths, maybe.  

Frankly, I don’t really want to know how much I’ve spent in totality on diecasts. The number is sure to shock me. I know it’s in four figures. Is it closer to five figures than three? Probably, but I don’t want to know for sure. Of course, my spreadsheet only outlines the money I’ve doled out on cars. There’s the wall-mounted case costs to consider, and the massive trophy-case-cum-diecast-case I bought several years ago. The spreadsheet doesn’t include supplies for making customs — paint, decals, X-acto blades, Aircraft Remover and more. Hell, I’ve probably spent a bill bearing Benjamin Franklin’s mug on it just for plastic totes to store diecast boxes. I shudder at the thought of the actual amount of money I’ve spent on this hobby.  

Then again, I recently found out it could be worse.  

My daughter was gifted a kid’s set of Lego, and a few days later we sat before a dining room table full of mini blocks. It was the first time either of us had put together Legos, and we both of us thoroughly enjoyed the process. I wouldn’t mind doing this again, I thought, either with my daughter or by myself after she goes to bed. I hopped on Lego’s website and had a look to see what else was available to the brick-laying hobbyist. Turns out, a lot. Provided you also have a lot of money.  

I was blown away at the cost of Lego sets. I realized why so many people are enamored with them. They have to be, or else it would be an incredible waste of time and, especially, money. Nearly $700 for the Titanic? A McLaren P1 for $449.99? A fantasy castle for a whopping $400? A person who actually lays bricks for a living couldn’t afford to have this hobby.  

Suddenly, about $80 — minus shipping, of course — for a standard diecast seemed like a bargain. Customs? Even more so. I get all the Lego enjoyment of creating something out of an amalgamation of parts, and it’s still unlikely to cost me more than $100.  

What about those who collect even pricier items like coins, guns, art or cars you can actually drive? Hell, maybe diecast collecting is a bit of a frugal hobby.  

Or maybe that’s just another lie I tell myself.