There’s a strange, stubborn magic to classic cars.
They stall. They leak. They don’t always start in the rain. Their air conditioning, if it exists, might as well be ornamental. And yet—for those who care about driving, really care—they are irresistible. You don’t fall in love with a classic because it’s convenient. You fall in love because it makes you feel something.
There’s drama in a mechanical choke. A kind of intimacy in setting points or adjusting idle speed by ear. And while modern cars are perfectly content to cocoon you in silence and screens, the old ones demand participation.
The romance of classic motoring rarely survives the mundane rhythms of modern life. Traffic. Range anxiety. Ethanol-laced fuel. Climate guilt. Classic cars may tug at the heart, but they test the patience.
“I’ve always loved classic cars, but the reality is that most of them aren’t much fun to actually live with,” says Justin Lunny, Founder & CEO of Everrati.
That’s why, in recent years, a new school of engineering purists and futurists has emerged—those who believe the classics don’t need to be discarded, only rethought.
“What excites me about the journey we’re on with Everrati is giving these icons a second life, one where they’re not just admired, but genuinely driven. Making them electric doesn’t take away their soul, it makes them more usable, more sustainable and honestly, more thrilling. For me, that’s what real luxury is now: something beautiful, individual and built to be enjoyed,” continues Lunny.
This idea—that luxury is not just possession, but participation—is gaining traction among those tired of static showroom trophies. Real luxury, in today’s context, may no longer be about exclusivity in the traditional sense. It’s about freedom. The freedom to drive a 911 along the coast without choking on guilt. The freedom to enjoy a Pagoda SL without playing roulette with vintage wiring.
It’s worth clarifying: this isn’t about sterilizing the classics. Slapping a battery in place of an engine and calling it “innovation” is a far cry from honoring a car’s spirit. Too many modern EV conversions still treat classic cars like fashion accessories—flattened by design tweaks that forget where the car came from, and why it mattered.
But when done with care—mechanical empathy, even—electrifying a classic can become a kind of restoration in the truest sense. Not just of bodywork or trim, but of purpose.
Because a car, at its core, isn’t meant to sit under a dust cover or be wheeled out for Cars and Coffee once a season. It’s meant to be used. And use, in the 21st century, means something different than it did in the 1960s. It means navigating sustainability. It means respecting emissions. It means rethinking what a “daily driver” looks like without sacrificing personality.
There’s something radical, even romantic, in the idea that a car can retain its original lines and soul while being reborn for modern roads. It’s not unlike architecture—restoring a mid-century home with better insulation and solar panels doesn’t ruin the design. It ensures the design lasts.
Too often, automotive culture clings to false binaries. Old versus new. Electric versus gas. Emotion versus technology. But these lines are blurring. And the best efforts—those with vision and restraint—show us that heritage and progress can absolutely coexist.
The future of driving doesn’t have to be beige. It doesn’t have to be silent. It doesn’t have to be soulless. If anything, the growing movement to preserve and reimagine iconic vehicles reveals a yearning for something deeper than horsepower figures or spec sheets.
People want connection. To the road. To the past. To something crafted with purpose.
And in that pursuit, the most valuable thing any car can offer is not ease—but meaning.