"I once bought an old car back after I sold it because I missed it so much and I had forgotten that it never ran. It was a British racing car. You know, because I just wanted it back. I could only remember what was good about it"

Nostalgia often distorts memory, transforming the past into something more beautiful and appealing than it ever was in reality. Connie Chung’s reflection about buying back an old British racing car after having sold it highlights the powerful grip that sentimentality and selective memory can have on our decisions. She recalls missing the car so profoundly that she chose to repurchase it, only to be reminded of its persistent flaws, the car "never ran". The longing for the vehicle overshadowed its lack of practicality or reliability; emotion clouded her judgment, leading her to focus entirely on the pleasant aspects she associated with it.

This scenario is a poignant illustration of how humans tend to romanticize former experiences or possessions. Time can act as a filter, erasing blemishes from our recollection and leaving us with the brightest highlights. Objects, like the old racing car, can come to symbolize youth, adventure, or comfort. Even when logic dictates that these things brought as much trouble as joy, reminiscence dwells only on pleasures. Chung’s comment about "only remember[ing] what was good about it" encapsulates this quirk of human psychology. The flaws and frustrations, such as a car that fails to run, fade away until only an idealized version remains.

Her story also hints at the sometimes futile nature of trying to recapture the past. Possessions retrieved rarely provide the satisfaction we anticipate, because the very qualities that drew us back are embellishments of memory, not reality. The British racing car becomes a symbol of this universal experience; it was valued not for its utility but for what it represented, a sentiment, an image, a connection to an earlier time. In attempting to reclaim the object, Chung uncovered a truth common to many: the past, once recovered, often fails to live up to the glossy, edited version we’ve cherished in our minds.