Say you inherit a 1959 Triumph motor car from your father-in-law. Say it doesn't really run. Say you can't seem to find a buyer for it. What to do? If you're my brother Adam, you fix it up. You replace the parts you need to. You grease everything. You buy replacement parts from some place in England. A lot of sweat, a lot of reading of the manual (and probably viewing of YouTube videos by other Triumph enthusiasts). You get a special collector's car license plate so it's street legal. You remind yourself how to operate a stick shift car.
The rear view mirror is 2 inches by 5 inches, just above the dash. The round side view mirrors are just a bit bigger. There is no radio to distract you. It starts with a key, not a remote. It fires up loudly and proudly and the gas fumes let you know you are in a vintage car.
Finally, you proudly offer rides to your sisters down a lonely road in Yelm. You don't take it above 55 mph (that would be pushing it). But the top cover is off, the breeze is in your face. Your sister Betsy holds her hands up in the air while you cruise down the deserted street, like she's on a roller coaster. Happiness happens on a warm July day.
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