I've been drooling over the ICON Derelict line for well over a year now, seems like.

There's not much in the way of stuff that I really hunger for. A lifetime of accumulation and five years of children have, if anything, made me itchy to offload as much of my stuff as I can get away with. I'm toying with the idea of doing the 100 Thing Challenge, though I'm not convinced I could pull it off. Still, it rattles about in my brain pretty much every time I look around my house and sigh.

Someone once asked: if your house caught fire, and everyone was safely out of it, would you secretly be relieved? I think I would. But cookware and tools alone, even keeping to the needed basics, I'd get most of the way to 100 in no time.

Beyond that, beyond some nice clothes and occasionally updating my woefully-old tech, there's not really that much stuff that gives me the pants lust. Most of it seems like it's in the way. If I had a high-speed scanner, I'd even unbind most of my books and digitize them.

But then there are those Derelicts. Classic cars showing their years and miles, given new guts for their old bodies.

I've watched that video 20 times if I've seen it once. I once kept that open in a tab in my brower for a solid month.

I keep sending the link to people. I bring it up on Twitter in the hope that some rich person will see it and decide that I am morally deserving of such a gift. I scan the sides of the road when driving through one-stoplight towns, looking for the perfect one to send to California and restore. It is my kind of beautiful.

And if I ever do get rich? Hoo boy. This. This will be my mid-life crisismobile. I'm prepared to start quoting Ayn Rand to my kids when it's time to pay for college, if that's what it takes.