Let's not sugarcoat this, there were seven project cars, and only one young man to make them real. All his energy seemed only capable of keeping these metal boxes out of a scrap bin.

Every couple/few months, something would break. Sometimes it was just simple maintenance. Other times aging chassis threw curve balls. And still other times a mistake directly moved a car from running to not.

His soul wept to see his Cadillac rotting under sun, dust and rodent scat in storage. It wasn't in great shape before, but it had only worsened in his care. They were all this way. His guilt was like that of a child who neglected a pet to death.

Moreover, his life had evolved. Relationships had developed, interests had changed, and responsibilities had grown. Yet still this young Sisyphus labored at the whims of his younger self.

Something had to give...these cars had to go.