Nostalgia accounts for a lot of my love of Doctor Who; I had a youthful obsession with Classic Doctor Who (1963-1989), inspired in no small part by my mother (who also introduced my brother and I to Red Dwarf, and we regularly watched Star Trek: The Next Generation—my father's preference—while folding laundry).

In those days old episodes of Doctor Who were regularly, even daily, shown on PBS. I distinctly remember being 7 or 8 years old, sitting at the dining room table, and my mom setting up our old boxy CRT TV so we could watch it while we ate. This discomforted me greatly. It was like, gasp, being allowed to wear a hat at the table. Just not done. I was... not a rebellious child.

The episode, unfortunately enough, was The Sontaran Experiment, which is an incredibly bleak story that takes place in a rocky terrain (a quarry, where alien planets in Doctor Who tended to be filmed), and the titular Sontaran was enslaving humans and experimenting on them. Sontarans are a warrior race with potato heads, small faces, beady eyes, and a silvery sort of uniform. No TARDIS, I don’t think a sonic screwdriver, and much of the trappings of Doctor Who absent.

BUT, it’s an episode with Tom Baker, Elizabeth Sladen, and Ian Marter (as the Doctor, Sarah Jane Smith, and Harry Sullivan respectively), who are one of my favorite teams of the Classic era. And it could only get more exciting from there; it’s not a bad episode, but it’s also a part of a much longer story for which I had no context.

Somehow I don’t actually remember the turning point, for both my brother and I. Whenever we started taping them onto VHS, I suspect (we had a big chest full eventually). By as early as 1993, however, we went as a family to our local Britannicon.

I would love to have a program from those two years we went; see how many actors I would recognize now but had no clue about then. The ones I particularly remember were Danny John-Jules, who played the Cat on Red Dwarf, Sophie Aldred (Ace in the Seventh Doctor era of Doctor Who), and Colin Baker, the Sixth Doctor. I don’t remember if they were all there the same or different years.

I will always contend that Doctor Who is greater than the sum of its parts. By now that means it has over six decades of “parts” (and that’s even more than you might think, if we take into account the books that weren't novelizations, the Big Finish original audio adventures, and the comics!). It could have a century and the same would hold true (insane to think it’s 60% of the way there…). The reason for this, for me, is clear: the show is designed for endless possibility. The TARDIS can go anywhere in time and space, with some stipulations based on narrative need (like the fact they can’t just jump back in time mid-story to warn themselves or the major players to avoid the oncoming dangers).

THE TARDIS

The Doctor's time and space ship is an impregnable sanctuary. Not even the hordes of Genghis Khan could break down its doors, and they have tried. Sure, it has been exploded occasionally, sometimes stealthily invaded, or commandeered by the Time Lords or other entity, but usually it is the ultimate safe space. If I were a companion of the Doctor’s I would always be running back to take refuge in the TARDIS. Who actually wants to get exterminated by Daleks? For this reason the TARDIS is usually made inaccessible shortly after they leave it at the beginning of the episode.

The TARDIS itself is, supposedly, endless. Rarely in the TV show has this concept been explored. It has a wardrobe to suit any and all time and places. The Doctor himself ignores this for the most part, sticks to his trademark getup and leaves the dress-up to his companions. Most recently Ncuti Gatwa has bucked that trend and rocked several outfits, with only a couple making reappearances... and all of them iconic on that man. In the old days The Doctor got very comfortable with his outfit.

The TARDIS is largely left to the imagination. Ninety eight plus percent of what we get to see of it is the console room, which, however fancy it may get in the post-millennial NuWho era, must be one of the least interesting rooms in the place. And where do they sleep? I think there have been a few novels that have explored it in more depth. One aspect that I think was explored in Tom Baker’s era, and maybe in Peter Davison’s, too, is that some of the rooms rearrange themselves (maybe there was also the Matt Smith episode on where the TARDIS gains a body and consciousness…, but that’s another level entirely). There may even be alternate console rooms.

There must be bedrooms, a pool has been talked about, clearly there must be a library, the aforementioned wardrobe, but mustn’t there also be… a kitchen and dining room? does the TARDIS provide a self-sufficient ecosystem? Does it produce food? Does the Doctor have a trophy room like Batman, or rooms full of things he’s been given? (He may not accept much, but he must sometimes be given things he can’t refuse). One thing he very rarely has is currency. There is one Sylvester McCoy episode where he hands her a small sack of coins to get herself something in a diner in 1963. Half of the coins are alien, but she’s able to get what she needs.

The TARDIS is appealing for me for two reasons: the sanctuary of it, and the idea that you could go in, dematerialize and spend as much time as you want in the time correct, or anywhere else, and then return a second after you’ve left. Need more time to finish that project that’s due in an hour? Now you’ve got years.

Endless possibilities. Endless adventure, alongside someone who can deal with any situation without resorting to base violence. Someone willing to sacrifice themselves for any greater good, and often has. That of course is another thing—the whole idea of regeneration—which used to have a few basic rules, but like most of the lore in Doctor Who, can mean just about anything: infinite regenerations, not just twelve, and bigeneration, to name the biggies.

What might appeal to me about the idea of regeneration is that it suggests to the viewer that they, too, can change, and grow, embrace new aspects of life, shake off old habits and perspectives, all while retaining the core of who they are. And I think I, personally, would rather do that in the mundane human way. Altering your entire physical body and suddenly gaining different personality quirks and preferences would be a bit much to deal with. Better to take it slow.

Why do I like it? It's a silly fantastical sci-fi romp that gets dark, with a main character to aspire to be like; mysteries to solve, sights to see, companions to share them with; but overall, hope in the face of the darkest, most fantastical, science fictional, and also very human perils.