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My Classic Car Collection Became a Family Battlefield, and I Had to Draw Financial Boundaries

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Ezoic

For six months, we worked in his garage. We replaced parts. We sanded rust. We learned what needed rebuilding and what needed patience. When it finally started one morning without coughing, running smooth and steady, I cried right there in the driver’s seat.

My grandfather leaned against the workbench and said, “Remember this feeling. When you fix something with your own hands, it becomes yours in a way buying something new never will.”

That day, I made a promise to myself. Someday, I would have a collection of beautiful cars. Not because I wanted to impress anyone, but because each one would represent a milestone. A goal. A version of myself I earned.

Ezoic

The Career Path Nobody Expected Me to Choose

My parents had a very traditional idea of what “a good life” looked like. They pictured nursing, teaching, maybe social work. Something stable, something familiar.

When I told them I wanted to study computer science, my father laughed like I’d made a joke at the dinner table.

“Technology is a phase,” he said. “You need something practical. Something that will still matter in twenty years.”

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