Finding Joy Through Customising: Junk Journalling Your Car Story

Let’s be honest — the world can feel like a tough place to live in. Everything is loud, fast, demanding, and constantly asking for more of our attention. Because of that, finding joy isn’t a luxury anymore — it’s essential. Sometimes joy comes from big moments, but more often it’s found in quieter, slower acts that bring us back to ourselves.

As petrolheads, we already share a common language: cars. Whether you’re a modified master, a custom classic creator, a performance purveyor, or somewhere in between, our connection to cars runs deeper than transport or status. Cars are memory holders. They’re time markers. They’re often the backdrop to some of the best (and hardest) moments of our lives.

And carrying through my Back to Bolts ethos — slowing things down, reconnecting with the analogue, and finding meaning beyond metrics — I want to share a simple idea. One that doesn’t require loads of money, doesn’t demand perfection, and can be done alone, with friends, or with family.

Junk journalling your car story.

What is junk journalling?

Junk journalling is a creative, tactile way of documenting life using scraps, memories, and everyday ephemera. There are no rules. No right or wrong way to do it. It’s about collecting fragments — photos, notes, receipts, textures, scribbles — and layering them into something personal and imperfect.

Unlike polished photo books or perfectly curated feeds, junk journals celebrate the process. The mess. The margins. The things that don’t quite fit but matter anyway.

And that’s exactly why it pairs so beautifully with car culture.

Turning your car life into a tactile record

Think back to when we used to get photos developed. When memories lived in shoeboxes, glove compartments, and dog-eared albums. There was something special about holding a moment in your hands — not just scrolling past it.

You could start as simply as this: Print photos from your phone or use an instant camera (I love Instax — they’re fun, imperfect, and immediate)

Capture before and after shots of your build, parts arriving on the driveway, greasy hands mid-job, early morning drives, car meets, shows, events and quiet moments where nothing “important” happened, but it felt good. 

Stick them in. Tape them down. Let them overlap. Handwrite notes next to them the date, where you went, who you were with, how the car felt that day, what broke, what worked and what you learned. 

Add in old show wristbands, fuel receipts from a road trip, parts invoices, flyers, sketches, paint swatches, a note you made when you were frustrated or proud. None of it has to look good. It just has to be yours.

Why this matters more than ever

Creating is proven to help anxiety — something I live with daily. There’s something grounding about slowing your hands down and giving your mind a place to rest. In a world that’s increasingly wiped clean of tactile experiences, where memory-keeping has been handed over to screens and algorithms, junk journalling becomes a quiet form of resistance.

Social feeds forget. Algorithms move on. But a physical journal stays. It holds your story exactly as it was — not filtered, not optimised, not judged.

Finding joy again

You don’t need to document your car life for likes, follows, or approval. You don’t need the newest parts or the biggest budget. You just need a way to remember why you started in the first place.

Customising isn’t just about changing metal — it’s about expression, patience, frustration, learning, and pride. Junk journalling gives those moments somewhere to live.

And sometimes, joy is simply found in keeping hold of the things that mattered — before the world told us to move on too quickly.