Since that time the Lancia has covered barely 9000 miles. I’m back in Scotland now, but the car largely remains an exhibit because I now have two young kids, and because a function of the Delta’s rarity and provenance means it’s now worth proper money.
In 2017, a mint, 4000-mile Giallo Ferrari sold in New York for £142,000, and a British 17,000-miler made £105,000 in 2022. My car is tidy enough but leggier at 87,000 miles, so it has been estimated at five grand either side of £60,000: a welcome windfall for a growing family – unlike the cost of continued maintenance for a car I now barely drive.
One of the regular comments people make about the car is ‘don’t ever sell it’. I’ve always replied by saying I won’t unless I have to. Well, that time has come. And I’m not finding it easy. I’ve literally lost sleep over selling other cars and motorbikes, but this is a particular torment.
I know it’s not logical and, to some, will seem more than a bit silly. Of course, I’m fortunate to have owned a special car such as this and that the Delta has become valuable. But countering a matter of the heart with a matter of the head is like squaring a circle.
To try to make sense of why the likes of you and I feel so strongly about our cars, and maybe to help negotiate the emotional trauma of disposing of mine, I’ve called upon psychologist Dr Christian Jarrett, editor of digital magazine Psyche.
In clinical terms, I’m grappling with ‘object attachment’, and some of Jarrett’s writing on the subject (for The Psychologist magazine) strikes a chord. Possessions can become so entwined with our personality as to become extensions of the self.
