I find the continuing mission of Voyager 1 so moving, for the way its name alone evokes a time of promise, for the thought of that tiny contraption way out there in the vastness at the edge of the heliosphere — perhaps the farthest any human-made thing may ever travel — a bit battered, swiftly aging, still doing the work it was purposed to do.
I feel exactly the same way, but also claim a self-description: I too am “a bit battered, swiftly aging, still doing the work [I] was purposed to do.”