I own nine cars. Need I say more?
When I drove up to Portland Maine to look at an early '72tii, I called her on the way home. "I bought it," I said. I went on and on about the original body panels (so I thought) and the original paint (so I thought) and how much money I thought I could potentially make on the car (so I thought). Finally I said "I think I know what I'm doing." She said "yeah, I think you do."
But that's not the good part. The good part was when neither of the above turned out to be as true as I thought (the original panels and paint), and I made a little money but not a lot. And she didn't say boo. You go, girl.
One of the great stories Maire Anne tells is when, 20 years go, I was parting out a 3.0CS. I was out of town and she got a call from a guy who wouldn't take "he's out of town" for an answer, and was trying to describe some trivial trunk part he needed. "Ok," he said, "you know how, if you stick your head inside the trunk, then look backward at the back panel, you see..." whatever it was. When I got home, Maire Anne said "I used to think you were bad, but now I see that, viewed against the broad scope of automotive wackos, you're actually fairly tame."
Here's to all of our spouses who put up with all of our shit!
Oh, and regarding the girl in the denim skirt standing in front of the inka '02 with the air dam, that makes my dick stiff... and the girl ain't bad either.