You are only borrowing what I sold to you

I think a story could illustrate my point much more easily than a drawn-out and dry didactic.

Imagine: I am a carpenter who repairs all kinds of woodwork. You are a homeowner with a really rickety house. So you call on me, the great and mighty carpenter, to repair your roof, because it is rain season and you are sick and tired of sleeping in the pool otherwise known as your upstairs bedroom. I come promptly after the call, like a good carpenter, and I fix your roof up pronto. You can finally enjoy sleep on a dry bed, and you are happy that I did not charge you a exorbitant price for the whole job. I, however, took your broken roof with me, as per the agreement we had when you called me up for the job.
In two weeks, a gust left quite a few holes in your walls. Remembering my excellent service and fair price, you summoned me to your house. At my own request I performed a (free) thorough inspection through the house, and concluded that all the exterior walls of the mold and termite ridden structure would have to be torn down and replaced. I once again offered the same terms: cheap services, except I take the old parts of the house. You happily acquiesce to my terms a second time, and once again you are satisfied by the result.
Soon after, your house, like a sick old man, decided to show more symptoms of age, for it has not had doctor checkups for a long time. Its intestines and blood vessels showed increased signs of age, and you had to call me once again when icy water doused you in the shower during midwinter, when you lost your heating. I came promptly and replaced your barely functioning furnace and pipes. I once again gave you a good deal on the same terms.
By now we are on relatively cordial terms. You are very grateful towards the kind carpenter who virtually built you a new house--at a very low price. Then one day, without an appointment, I drove up your driveway with your old roof, walls, furnace and pipes, and dumped them on your lawn. Then I posted an eviction notice on your front door, and just as I was about to leave you came home from work.
"What the heck do you think you are doing?!" You shouted into my face, after seeing the huge pile of junk on your lawn.
"Here you go." I calmly handed you another copy of the eviction notice. You could not help but read it out loud.
"Per Article 4, section 6 of the law of the Democratic People's Socialist Republic of Smirnoff, you have been evicted from your house, since your house technically belonged to the carpenter whose parts you borrowed to construct the house you currently live in. However, since the Democratic People's Socialist Republic of Smirnoff always treats every one of her citizens with perfect equality, you can only be evicted if the carpenter can replace your current house with your old house."
"By the way, your house is over there." I told you warmly, pointing at the pile of junk that is strewn across your lawn.

Now, if the story did not make any sense, why then should the Volvo that Vern had driven for twenty years NOT be his?