When I was six or seven I was touring a colonial house with my parents. The guide picked up a bucket and said, “Imagine if this could talk. Imagine the stories it would have to tell.” And I thought, well, it’d probably say, “I liked being filled up. It was my only chance to look around. Then they’d empty me and stick me back here in the corner. Been here a long time. So, do you guys like water?”
Jokes aside it was the first time I’d heard the cliché of “if this thing could talk”. It was a concept I liked because it really did tickle me to think how different the priorities of antiques would be, which would make them less than ideal witnesses to the history they’d been privy to.
So I found the story written on this car interesting. It was as though the car were speaking to me, although it seems to really have been the story of the owner. It sounds like a love story, or the start of one. This was yet another case of a car I would have happily followed to learn more about its owner. I don’t know why I didn’t leave a note. A note is one thing we can create that does speak, not for itself, but for us, which is what matters.