I bought Teflon Don. I can’t fully remember why, but after a full year of listening to my illegally downloaded copy of Rick Ross’s amazing fourth album, I drove to a record store, walked inside, interacted with an employee, and then purchased the album in compact disc form.

I wanted it because I was home in Atlanta, meaning it was one of the few times a year I would be behind the wheel of a car. I missed the experience of rolling down all four windows in my mother’s silver Volvo, driving north on I-75 into the city, and blasting music as loud as I could physically tolerate — and then turning it up a little more. On that summer day in 2011, nothing could make me happier than listening to “BMF” while driving under the spot where the “BMF” billboard used to sit and terrorize northbound commuters.

But I had the album on my iPod, and had a tape adapter, so this dream could still come true without purchasing the album. But I missed the feeling of putting an album into a six-CD changer and letting it run in its entirety. Yes, I could have achieved this by simply spending five minutes burning the album on a blank CD-R, but at that moment, I was unsure if there were any at home, and a pack of 25 blank CDs cost as much, if not more, than purchasing the album.

So I bought it.