Driving became an act of powerful puppetry - I thought, and the car did, even though in my current state I can only manage it for a few minutes at a time before pain intervenes. "But it's just a car!" people say, "You're being overly sentimental about a thing!" Maybe I am. I look at this thing and it brings me joy, and yet soon I must treat her as clutter.

Bollocks, it's 'just a car'. It's a treasured companion, an external signifier of your identity, a test and trainer of skill and control, a source of happiness.

It's not a thing given up lightly, and I mourn with you that you find yourself along this path.

I only met her a few times, but it was a pleasure and a privilege each time. She is a noble steed.