Like all good superheroes, my Jeffsy has a tragic origin story. It starts with a violent car crash. It was a Saturday in early winter. Both my little girls were in the back of my 1991 Mercedes 190e. We were waiting at a light when a Suburban rear ended us doing 50 mph. The Mercedes was crumpled at both ends, but it took the hit like a faithful guardian. The brave sedan sacrificed itself to protect me and the girls. With my head dazed and the girls still crying, my thoughts turned to my other vehicle, a 1972 VW bus. We all loved riding in the bus. If the weather had been 10 degrees warmer we might have been in the bus. I had daily driven it for 18 years. I thought I would drive that bus forever, and in that moment I fell completely out of love with it. I knew that if the bus had been hit like that the result could be deadly. I sold the bus and bought a used Audi, with money l...