Midlife is hard on the handles

Is it a bad sign when your handles break off?
As I approach the ripe old age of forty something, my old '89 Toyota seems to be a reflection of my descent into the second half of life, sort of a picture of Dorian Gray type of thing. Should I take it then, as a bad sign that the door handles have snapped off, causing my people to have to climb out the window in perfect Dukes of Hazzard style? I tried not to notice when the upholstery began to fade and the emergency brake handle cracked. It's mellowing , like a fine wine, I told myself. Then when the inside roof covering began to sag into my line of vision, I steadfastly maintained it added character to the stalwart vehicle. The cupholder that snapped off? Merely a trifle. The trunk that funneled all available rainwater directly inside? A natural drought busting feature. Ah, but when the door handles failed I was forced to face the truth. My chassis was not so youthful anymore.
This was a blow.
However, when our luxury car failed (and by luxury I refer to a minivan with a dime stuck fast inside the C.D. player courtesy of an over curious toddler) which vehicle was pressed into action to get the peeps to school? Yes, the reliable, rattletrap Chitty Chitty Bang Bang Toyota. Oh sure, I had to extract the children through the window and yes, I forgot to set the cracked parking brake which required me to run after the car and dash around to the working drivers side handle to stop it, but that baby's engine purred like a kitty on a catnip high.
We replaced the door handles after securing the parts from some auto supplier who had items circa World War II and I believe a cupholder suitable for a Sherman Tank should I require one. The upholstery is still shot and the inside of the roof looks like it might sprout mushrooms at any moment, but that car is still a hotrod in its own way. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
But I wonder what I'll do about the broken window cranks?