To most people, the Mustang Mach-E is an electric SUV, but to my 6-year-old son, Oliver, it’s much simpler than that: It’s “Daddy’s car.” And for me, it’s much more than any other car I’ve owned. It’s a rolling testament to the man I loved, a symbol of his passion, and a tangible piece of his life’s work that he left with us.

My late husband, Clayton, was a tech nerd in the purest sense. I learned that on our very first date back in 2007. We went to a local restaurant, and he was so nervous he talked for nearly three hours straight. I barely got a word in, but I didn’t mind. He was so passionate.

That love for technology was a constant thread through our life together. A few months after we met, the original iPhone had just been released. He, of course, had waited in line overnight for his. I simply walked into a store on release day and bought one. I’ll never forget him showing me all the amazing things his new phone could do, only for me to pull out my own and say, “You mean like this one?” The look on his face was priceless.

His fascination with gadgets was his calling. So, when he saw electric vehicles emerging, he viewed them as the ultimate gadget. He was an early adopter, owning a series of five different electric or plug-in models over the years. He took immense pride in driving his first hybrid-electric vehicle almost exclusively on electric power.

That personal passion eventually merged with his professional life. Clayton worked for a technology company that collaborated with Ford on the SYNC Navigation System for a vehicle that was still under wraps: the Mustang Mach-E.

He had worked on automotive projects before, but this was different. He’d tell me stories about the frustrations of working with older, limited hardware on other projects. The Mustang Mach-E was new and exciting. It was a blank canvas.

Clayton was obsessed with user experience. He believed technology should feel intuitive, almost invisible. I remember him spending countless hours thinking through the intricate details of Mustang Mach-E's navigation system. He would labour over how to design a system that lets you plan a multi-stop journey seamlessly. He’d say, “It’s gotta just work.”

He was trying to solve problems most people never even consider. He’d explain how an electric vehicle driver’s mindset is different from a gas car driver’s. You don’t drive the vehicle until you’re empty. He was designing logic that would tell the driver to stop and charge for only 15 minutes because the battery was in the optimal state to get the fastest boost.

He thought about drivers ending their day somewhere without a charger, and he worked to design a system that would calculate and guide the driver to have enough range to get to the next charger. He even started working on the system for the F-150 Lightning, figuring out how to calculate the battery drain from a trailer’s weight and how that impacted trip planning. It was a puzzle he delighted in solving, knowing his work would help someone, somewhere have a better day.

So, when the Mustang Mach-E was finally released, I should have known what was coming. He had just gotten an electrified vehicle he loved, but one night, he came to me and asked, “What would you think about me getting the Mach-E?”

Thinking purely from a practical standpoint, I told him I thought it was a bit impulsive. He had a car that was only a few months old. Why another one so soon? He dropped it, but I could tell he was disappointed. The next night, he was genuinely upset, feeling like he’d missed his chance at his dream car.

“It’s been my life for five years,” he told me. “I feel like I need to have it.”

In that moment, I understood completely. This wasn’t just another car. It was his work, his passion, his baby, all brought to life in metal, glass, and code. I told him if it was that important, he should go for it, and he found the perfect one, configured even better than the first one he’d seen.

From the day it arrived, he was totally enamored. He babied it, getting it ceramic coated and having protective film applied. He even got a personalized license plate that read “MODEL E.” It was a clever, nerdy nod to the internal Ford department, a piece of trivia he absolutely reveled in. He would talk to anyone who would listen about the car, and his enthusiasm was infectious; a number of our friends bought one shortly after he did.

Today, that electric SUV is so much more than a car. It’s a rolling collection of memories, a symbol of his passion and pride. For our son, Oliver, it’s a direct connection to the father he sometimes struggles to remember, but he knows that’s Daddy’s car.

Clayton passed suddenly and unexpectedly a little over three years ago, and I briefly debated what to do with it. But the thought of selling it felt wrong. It’s a piece of his legacy. It’s a symbol of the love and meticulous care he poured into everything, whether it was his work, his family, or his passions.

I decided to keep it. It’s a fixture in our garage and in our lives. Every time Oliver and I get in, I feel like we’re taking a drive with him, his spirit right there in the passenger seat. His journey continues with ours.

Todd Messenger is a loving father to Oliver and the owner of “Daddy’s” Mustang Mach-E.