It’s amazing how much emotion we invest in our cars. I had a not very expensive but fairly unique car in my late teens. Eventually, I joined the adult world, moved away, and it sat in storage for years before being given away.

Now I’m much older, in a vastly different place in life, and generally successful and happy. I’d still sell my left testicle to get that car back, though. Not so much because of the car itself, but because of the memories. It feels like a lost photo album or that one song that just sounded perfect but you can’t remember the artist or the lyrics.