When it comes to the machines that move us, nothing makes the present more attractive than a visit to the past. The fact that a 1955 D-Type Jaguar is an automotive icon that will bring four-and-a-half million dollars at a Barrett-Jackson auction does nothing to alter the fact that a brand new 3-Series BMW will run rings around it for about fifty grand.

Spending a lot of money on an old car or boat or airplane is a guarantee that you’ll spend very little time on the road, on the water or in the air. For one thing you’ll find the actual hands-on experience to be much less enjoyable in reality than in your imagination. After one or two trips, you won’t want to go there. For another, most of your time will be spent earning enough to keep the charming remnant alive and hobbling.

The past has its place and it is in our memories. We will all do well to accept this fact and at least lace our nostalgia with a healthy dose of “brand new.”

You may never be able to afford a 1937 Morgan three-wheeler. But you’ll find a new one priced on par with a well-equipped Hyundai. And it’s a far better buy than the original in terms of everything from cost to cache in cruising the strip on a Saturday night.

A new Ducati motorcycle will never be as good as an old Ducati until you’ve ridden both, back to back.

In aviation, it’s true that a P-51 Mustang will cruise almost a hundred miles an hour faster than a Cirrus SR22. That advantage will be eaten up by fuel stops and in the end you’ll arrive at your destination in about the same time but with a gas bill a hundred and fifty percent higher. And you’ll complete your journey alone, whereas the Cirrus welcomes three fellow travellers. That said, the WWII Mustang is a ride like no other and by all means ask someone who owns one to take you up. You’ll get a thrill and after you land, a team of mechanics will get lots of overtime at your friends expense.

Boats? A 1938 Chris Craft runabout with a six cylinder Chrysler Crown will cost you as much as a barely used MasterCraft, go half as fast for half as long and without constant attention, immerse you in a sea of dry rot repairs.

For the most part, memory serves us Hell, and it also serves without regard for our advancing age; as the bodies we walk around in grow year by year more uncomfortable with noise, vibration and awkward entries and exits. We tend to forget that the non-nonsense harsh ride delivered by our beloved Dunstall Norton contributed to the arthritis we live with now.

The intent here is not to diminish what was. After all, it became what is. And what is, for the most part is damn good.

But at the same time, there’s a reason we have museums. They let us see the way it was without having to suffer the pain and frustration of going there to find out.