For some of us I truly think that vintage is in the bone. Two stories to illustrate.
When I was a boy, my Dad would take me to work with him on Saturdays. He worked for a construction company, and many Saturdays were spent at the "shop", the offices, repair shops, and storage area for the construction company.
The storage yard was filled with old trucks of every description, as well as old transport trailers, an old city bus, sheds and shacks holding everything from broken hand shovels to the carpenters shop. This was my Saturday playground.
The old trucks were my favourite. I spent many an hour "driving" pick-up trucks from the 1940's and 50's (no tires or rims) just a steering wheel, gear shift and a seat. What more did I need? Even better were the retired dump trucks. Just climb in and the world was waiting out your window. I carried an important load of dirt, and let no one stand in my way! I did not like or want to play in the new trucks. They held no interest for me. They had no character. (Of course if I had one now...)
The sheds and shacks held many neat items, and searching them was a great way to spend a rainy afternoon. Often I would run to get my Dad to show him my latest find. He would always patiently tell me what it was, how it was used, and that no I could not take it home with me.