I was 12 years old when I asked my dad if we could restore a car. He and I had no auto knowledge, tools, or insight into this new world that would eventually dominate our lives. He (for some reason) agreed, and we went and looked at a few cars in the area that were for sale. We both fell in love with a Inca Yellow 1976 Triumph Spitfire. The car was a good candidate for a couple of beginners. Over the next few years, with the help of local British Car Clubs, we got it cleaned up, running, and hitting the tristate Car Show circuit. Eventually when I got my drivers license it became a fairly regular driver car.
The Spitfire was eventually flooded during hurricane Katrina right around the time I went off to college. My dad and I agreed that we couldn't get rid of the car because of all of the sentimental attachment, but I wasn't around to help bring it back into commission. Approaching it one small job at a time and with increasing support from the local community my Dad was able to get the car running and driving again. It still doesn't look as good as it did when we had been going to shows with—but it is still part of the family.
I live in NY now, but my Dad and brother still go to shows whenever they can—and we ride around town whenever I come home to visit.