I once strutted into a car dealership in Albany, New York, fancying myself the next Ansel Adams of automobile photography. I had my camera slung over one shoulder, my portfolio bursting with shots of shiny hubcaps and dramatic rearview mirror reflections, and a confident glint in my eye. But the hiring manager took one look at my resume, pushed up his glasses, and said, “I see you’ve captured the essence of a ’67 Mustang in the golden hour, but where’s your college degree?” I was flabbergasted. Who knew you needed a diploma to snap a picture of a gently used sedan? If you’re like me, you’ve probably sat on your…