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With a Speedster, this is one of those awkward things that you step into without realizing at first.
But it sticks to your shoe, smells funny, and after a while you know you're going to have to deal with somehow.
Your first take is, "It's just a car." A cool ride that's way more practical (and possible) than having the real thing, and it will be a hoot to drive, right? How else can I get a 'new' car with all the OG goodness and none of the computerized crap and that's still legal to drive? Great, sign me up.
But then, getting gas that first time, the guy runs up and tells you what a great restoration job you've done and how his brother-in-law used to have one, and, uh, oh crap, now what do I say?
After a while, we work out our stories. Nah, just a replica. Yeah, VW motor. Drives better. Disk brakes. No rust, ha ha.
But it doesn't end there. The mind insists on playing its games with us. What am I really doing here? If the car's a fake, am I, somehow, a fake too? Am I a complete idiot? A 12-year-old who never had a Schwinn like all the other kids? Just what failings am I compensating for? Why can't I just get a Miata or a 'Vette like all the other paunchy, balding 12-year olds? I'd have a lot less explaining to do with the guy at the gas pump and with myself.
In time, I think we get all of this sorted out, each in our own way. We convince ourselves that we're OK and that there's nothing too abnormal about this. Most people will never quite get it, but we come to be OK with that, too.
Still, it's comforting to have someplace like this to check into when needed where you don't have any explaining to do.
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