Project cars start out as something fun to spend your time on. They grow on you slowly, until the thought of getting rid of it (assuming you don’t have so many that you don’t care) makes you weep, like the thought of saying goodbye to a loyal friend. Well, I got to that point this past week. I had the timing belt changed, the AC was working again, the brakes were bled. The only thing left was to change the engine mounts back to stock. That’s when my father in law borrowed it to get from our house, back to his (coming from the airport, long story). Saturday, we went to visit the family and afterward I end up driving my old Lancer back home. About ten minutes into a thirty minute drive home, I got tired of laying on the brakes because of overly nervous traffic, and start driving the hell out of it like I did back in the good old days of running nearly late for class, in college. I got home and I was nearly tearing up because it just didn’t seem right to be planning a trip soon, when I was selling my car “to save money.” It was like dancing on my car’s grave. I put my foot down, my old friend would stay.