"...six months in project car time is roughly ten years in real life."

DETROIT—If you’ve recently spotted a rusted-out bucket limping along the freeway, held together by zip ties, duct tape, and sheer determination, don’t call the police. That car is more than a vehicle—it’s a decade-long labor of love, sweat, and questionable decisions finally seeing the light of day.

“I bought this baby back in 2015,” said proud owner Hector Alvarez, standing next to his project car, a 1994 Nissan 240SX. “It only had three wheels and a mysterious smell back then. I told myself I’d get it running in six months. Turns out, ‘six months’ in project car time is roughly ten years in real life.”

The telltale signs of a freshly revived project car are hard to miss: cobwebs on the rearview mirror, a registration sticker last updated during the Obama administration, and an exhaust note that sounds like a dying walrus. But for owners like Alvarez, those imperfections are badges of honor.

“People laugh when they see the zip ties holding my bumper on,” said Samantha Ruiz, another project car enthusiast. “What they don’t see are the 47 hours I spent swearing at rusty bolts in my driveway to get it this far. That’s not just a bumper—it’s a monument to perseverance.”

Critics, however, remain skeptical. “Why not just buy a car that works?” asked traffic safety advocate Karen Johnson. “These things are rolling hazards. One pothole, and the zip ties won’t save you. I'm calling the police.”

But for project car owners, the journey is takes forever. “It’s hard to make time,” said Alvarez. “Especially when I'm having to deal with neighbors who have been calling the city on me for years. Sure, my tags are expired, but my dreams are valid.”

So next time you see one of these road-weary warriors, don’t reach for your phone. It’s a miracle they made it this far.