Way back in 2016 the most British of all British automakers, Morgan, thrust an electric version of its already incredible 3-Wheeler model out into the world for display at the Geneva Auto Show. With an old-world open-wheel aesthetic, the 3-Wheeler already looks like it was constructed from the salvage of a downed World War II fighter plane, but with an electric powertrain it was dragged kicking and screaming into the modern world. I was instantly in love.

The car was slated for production and even trotted out for a few journalists to test while the shine was on. Then it kind of fell into the doldrums and Morgan stopped talking about it, and the world more or less forgot. I never forgot. We all pretty much assumed the project was never going to come about as time went on, but thanks to , it’s officially dead. Woe is me. If you need me I’ll be in bed with the blankets over my head sobbing about it for the next week and a half.

Everything about this car appeals to my ridiculous car sensibilities. It’s pretty much as close as you can get to a motorcycle while still keeping a steering wheel and pedals. It’s an overturned bathtub with a wooden chassis, carbon bodywork, wire wheels, and three headlights for some reason. Morgan promised the production version would deliver around 60 horsepower and have at least 120 miles of electric range from a 21 kWh battery. Plenty for something like this, honestly. It would have been a right cut up.

While the rest of the world moved on from the Morgan EV3, I waited in my seaside widow’s walk, always staring out to sea hoping my love would one day find its way home to me. The internalized grief of the delayed upon delayed upon delayed three-wheeled electric machine drove me mad. How can the rest of you move on with your lives while mine is so irreparably shattered? It’s deeply unkind, positively cruel, this world is.

I’ll always be here waiting for you EV3, even knowing you’re not coming back. There’s nobody else for me. It will always be you.