Nothing noteworthy here; I just feel happy and wanted to share. I had a bit of buyer's remorse after purchasing my 1960 Mk IX one year ago, because after we got all the black smoke cleared up from the badly-tuned carbs, we found that the black smoke was masking blue smoke from burned rings. Many, many thousands of dollars later for a complete engine rebuild, the car is now simply a joy to drive. And I do drive it regularly, if nothing else, weekly to church on Sundays; and it's just delightful, all because I've learned to accept her for what she is.

I've given up on trying to stop all the little drips from the drivetrain. I'm no longer bothered by the rattles at idle from the door-mounted tool boxes. I've accepted that, on start, she's gonna cough up black carbon through the exhaust like a 90-year-old chain-smoker. And the expense of the unanticipated engine rebuild is now a distant memory.

Now I get to just warm her up, drive her around town, and really enjoy the 50's-vintage British elegance. That is, until I come to a stop and the brakes squeal like a pig at the county fair. Okay, I guess I haven't accepted *all* her quirks just yet.