I bought this car when I was 25, which would make it 23 yrs today. I remember how desperate then I was to seem older, more serious, worthy of more gravitas than my boyish demeanor would garner. I remember starting to appreciate really well made old things: old clothes, old watches, and old houses all seemed more interesting somehow because I would wonder What was the previous owner like?
I recall a lunch with a good friend who had an old, crusty Rolex. I asked where he got it and he said his dad gave him his old watch when he graduated from college. I went out the next day and bought myself a used Rolex, like the replicants from Bladerunner who so desperately craved their own memories that they had to collect other people’s family photos.
Now, a quarter of a century later, I am one of those old things. But this car and the old Rolex and my old house will likely outlive me and pass on to other generations to appreciate (I hope so!). I hope that they might wonder a little about the previous owner. Perhaps not, but at the very least, they might appreciate that whether we’re old or new, we are all living in the same universe, made of the same star stuff.
