Look at this thing.
That right there is Icarus flying too close to the sun. That is four timing chains, four idler pulleys and eight (count 'em! EIGHT) chain guides ON THE BACK OF THE MUTHERFUCKING ENGINE in order to make the valvetrain work. That is refined hubris, an affront to the Gods that says "none of this shit will ever wear out ever in the life of the car" because it is an engine-out catastrophe if any of that shit responds in a linear fashion to the pressures of time. Its remedy is the stuff of legend, like the exotic mechanics who mutter under their breath about the fabled "congratulations, you have found the most inaccessible point of the car" plaque behind the gas tank of the Lotus Esprit.
Compare and contrast.
Ok, 2018 goal is to buy a house, then 2019 is buy an electric car (based on today's options, a Bolt). I'll shed a quick tear now for not needing a mechanic because I doubt I will ever feel bad.