The call came on a Tuesday. The job in Denver was mine. I should have been thrilled. Instead, I sat in my garage in Austin and stared at the silver shape under the canvas cover. My 1971 Porsche 911T. Three years of my life, weekends spent with greasy hands and a hopeful heart. And ...Learn More

My grandfather’s 1969 Chevrolet Impala wasn’t just a car. It was a memory with a V8 engine—the scent of old leather and gasoline, the sound of its purr on summer drives. When he passed, he left it to me, but I was two thousand miles away in Arizona, and the Impala was ...Learn More