How the adventure begins will be seen soon enough. The dream of owning a classic — chrome shining, engine growling — it starts with a single decision. Aouda was nervous; she had never driven anything older than 2010.
As for Mr. Carson, he thought the idea thrilling. “A real car,” he said, “not a computer on wheels.” The mechanic had said “take it slow,” and the Road Runner confirmed his wisdom.
During the first weeks, it was love. The quirks, the smell of aged leather, the feel of the wheel. But classics require care — a relationship, not a transaction. You don’t own it; you bond with it.
As for Passepartout, he would’ve called it glorious. And maybe it was.