What is this affliction?

You spend hours sanding and polishing aluminum that was riveted together 71 years ago. You swore you wouldn't take on any more major projects, especially after spending a year of your free time resurrecting a trailer half the size. You've restored an 1890 farmhouse in your 20s, floundered as a carpenter and cabinetmaker in New England before it all went to pieces. You tore apart and reassembled four motorcycles, spent 20 years upgrading your crackerbox house, built tiki bars and odd bits of furniture for friends, and you think you oughta slow down. Heck, you're almost 52 and exhausted most of the time due to a weird autoimmune disease that appeared a few years ago. And yet you can't resist seeing the potential in a piece of discarded Americana. What if? What if? You imagine hauling this glimmering, streamlined jet along a lonely highway in Arizona or maybe New Mexico, the dying sunlight mirrored on its skin. Time stops. It could be 1946 for all anyone knows. What if? So you keep chipping away at a crazy dream.