My one true love: an enigma wrapped in a shiny, red bow. My one true love: slender and beautiful, as agile as a horse on steroids, yet as stubborn as a water bottle cap refusing to open on a warm, humid day.  My one true love: as cranky as young child without candy, yet as joyous as a teenage girl with the latest iPhone. My one true love: as pretty as a Miss Universe model, yet as hideous as a graffiti ridden wall in a poor, run down neighborhood. My one true love: beautiful on the outside: the exterior complete with it’s metallic yellow paint and matte black race stripes, yet hideous on the inside: it’s engine rusted and lifeless from the severe beatings inflicted upon it over fifty years. Agile and joyous when washed, serviced, and fed the most premium of gasoline, yet cranky and stubborn after spending a night out in the snow. My One true love: A simple machine meant to serve and provide comfort to it’s human masters, yet veiled behind it’s simple workings a mind of it’s own, a mind capable out thought far beyond that of any human. My one true love: basking in it’s now glory while it cruises down the warm Californian roads.  My one true love: a 1972 SS Chevrolet Camaro. While an automobile to most, my Camaro will forever be my one true love.