What is it about men and their old, run-down, broken cars that they seem so unable to let go of? Why do they feel the need to fight for every scrap of metal, until what used to be a full-functioning car becomes nothing but an immovable lump of mismatched nothings?

When I met my boyfriend, he had this old car that he bought for $2000 (a 2009 Fiat Punto), and he was absolutely in love with it. The black paint was almost completely faded, the car would randomly shift to neutral mid-drive, the airbags were not functioning, and at some point, even the horn stopped working, yet I could not convince him to get rid of that junk; it was his baby.

It wasn’t until the car refused to start that he was finally persuaded to give it up for a better car. Luckily, it didn’t take long before we realised the car was completely gone until we managed to sell it to a junkyard and buy a new car.