I'd never understood my mom's obsession with her '66 Mustang. The way she took care of it, had it detailed regularly. I was even pretty sure she'd spelled it to protect the paint and interior from damage. Come on. It was just a car.

Until she and Dad one happy, sunny morning just a few weeks ago, handed me a jingling set of keys. Squealing in absolute excitement, I found myself staring down the grill of a brand new Cooper Mini. I didn't care it was the same car Mom's best ...