For the past five years, I’d been working on restoring my 1967 Impala. It wasn’t just a car—it was my dream, my project, my escape. I had poured thousands of hours and dollars into it, piece by piece, slowly bringing it back to life.
My wife never liked it. She thought it was a waste of money, a rusted hunk of junk taking up space in our garage. We argued about it sometimes, but she knew how much it meant to me. Or at least, I thought she did.
Then, one day, I came home and it was gone.
At first, I thought maybe she had moved it. Then she admitted the truth—she had it towed to the scrapyard.
I couldn’t believe it. I drove straight to the yard, but it was too late. It had already been crushed. Five years of work, thousands of dollars—gone.
I was furious. Heartbroken. When I told her she had no right, she rolled her eyes and said, “You weren’t doing anything with it anyway.” Like it was just some old piece of furniture, not something I had spent years rebuilding.
So I did what I never thought I’d do. I filed a lawsuit.
Now, she’s acting like I’m the bad guy. Her family is blowing up my phone, calling me petty for “suing my own wife.” But here’s the thing—I’m not looking for revenge. I just want to be compensated for what she destroyed.
Am I wrong for this? Or did she cross a line that deserves consequences?