Hell, no! Over the last two years, they’ve been systematically shutting down various bastions of my growing up years. Well, certainly symbols of it. Landmark symbols. Sure, there must be a monetary angle to each decision, but I don’t care, when there are memories involved. And a life without any of them, seems empty. Even if I don’t use them, they’re like comfort food. Take the Ambassador car. More than just a vehicle for us as teenagers, in the late ’70s. Learning how to drive on Worli Sea Face. Countless trips down to Lonavala, without our parents’ knowledge. Sans the Expressway. Up the Ghats. The first accident. The other guy had it worse. The Amby was a tank masquerading as a four wheeler. Then it was the Maruti. We had licences by then. Driving on rage-less streets. Most people’s first car. The HMT watch, that first clunky object on our wrist. Then Titan kicked in with its quartz technology. The folks at HMT, in true public sector style, figured no one would ever switch. Till the day every one really did have the inclination to move, and Titan had the time.