Growing up in the burbs of Detroit, cars are in my blood. Living in NYC is almost like living on another planet at times since I don’t drive everywhere, even after almost 5 years here. I was walking home from the train today and saw a couple women talking and one was complaining about her car. Saying how it sucks and she wants a better car and she hoped it would just die. This ricocheted around in my head for a little bit as most things do and I got to thinking… she may hate her car, but at some point in it’s life, someone loved it immensely. When you think about it, every car was loved at some point, even if it’s current owner doesn’t. Look up at that rusting heap at the top of this post.