This is a story about how I found the basement for the world's most storied auto museum with a key from an old Volvo and realized I loved something more than cars. Specifically, how I loved the woman who would end up with the questionable honor of being my wife.
Yes, since it's Valentine's Day, you're going to have to endure yet another post about love. But don't worry — I've thrown in lots of cars — so it should be bearable.
The first car is a yellow 1967 Volvo P1800S. That P1800 was my car (I later traded it for my Scimitar), and I really loved that car. At the same time I was using that Volvo as my daily driver, around 2001, I was also realizing that I loved something else, specifically the woman who would end up with the very dubious honor of being my wife.