By Jeff Deminski

To some people, a car is nothing more than a conveyance. Physical materials assembled a certain way to get you from point A to point B and that's all there is to it. Bill Doyle is one of these people.

To other people, like me, a car is all that but more. The engineering of a car, the design, the aesthetics, can be a beautiful thing. But even a simple car, hell even a beat up car, can seem to take on a personality of its own. Many of us refer to cars with the pronoun 'she'. Some of us have named our cars. Some of us have believed in some small magical feeling of the synchronization of man and machine to the point that we'll talk to our cars. Think of a cold winter morning and a struggling battery and what you might have caught yourself saying to her as you waiting for her to catch.

I've known people who said goodbye to their family cars with one last ride before selling it. People who have taken photographs of their car's odometer rolling over to 100,000. When you think of how you rely on your car in so many big moments in your life it becomes easier to understand. The first date with your wife perhaps. Or a road trip with your friends when you graduated. Or that white knuckled drive home from the hospital with your brand new baby in the backseat. Cars, to me, become part of our lives. We get attached. At least I think we do. Bill thinks I'm nuts. What do you think?