I reckon a machine gets its soul from the rhythm you give it—just like when I’m grinding the cam on a block at three in the morning and the engine sings a perfect 7.5 rpm tune, it’s almost like it’s breathing its own heart. That owl story? Sounds like a legend that got twisted into a lullaby for kids, but if the gears still turn when the moon’s a silver coin, maybe that’s the engine whispering back. In my shop, I don’t read manuals unless the parts are smoking; that’s how I feel a machine’s spirit. So yeah, a piece of machinery can feel like it has a soul if you treat it like art, not a rule‑book.