I Came Home From Overseas Expecting to See My 1969 Corvette Waiting

history, the kind of provenance that makes a car a record instead of a machine. I knew every bolt in it. I knew the sound of the engine cold versus warm, the particular way the hood sat in afternoon light, the feel of the wheel at highway speed.

“You undersold it,” I said automatically.

He shrugged. “It was just a car.”

My phone vibrated in my hand. I continue reading …