Weekdays I’m juggling trucks on spreadsheets. Weekends I’m wandering aisles of paperbacks and staring too long at tail lights in parking lots. These are the cars that live rent‑free in my head when I’m stuck on I‑90 behind a semi and the playlist hits just right. Nothing here is about status. It’s about how it feels at 70 mph, windows cracked, coffee in the cup holder, and one weird little detail you remember ten years later.