Composer Rob Dougan's lyrics, "Love, like a blow to the head's got me reeling," apply to my car obsession. It's hard to describe to someone who doesn't have 30-weight oil in their veins. But most gearheads fall somewhere between functioning heroin addicts and serial monogamists, unless they are collectors like Jay Leno, who practice auto-bigamy on the same scale Roman Grant collects plural wives.
A prime example of my affliction: I'm wandering the classifieds and stumble across a Mercedes Benz CLK55 AMG, a small coupe with Thor's hammer for an engine. The car I'm looking at is silver and listed for $12K. I didn't want it until I saw it, but immediately I start thinking of excuses to drive by for a look.