Let’s round it out with the less than dream inspiring car that you’re strangely drawn to and would probably be happy driving around day to day because, well, it just fits the nap deprived accountant/stamp collector in you.
Mine:
I’m not real picky when it comes to this kind of thing.
My first car was a '91 Volvo 240, originally belonging to my mother. It was slow and ugly, but it was built like a tank and I loved it. My next was a 2003 Crown Victoria, which got totaled when I was rear-ended while sitting at a stop light in 2008. I got a very good settlement and I felt like I wasn’t “done” with it so I went and bought the 2004 Crown Vic that I’m still driving.
I’ve been car shopping with my wife and friends, and my reaction is always, “Yup, this sure is a car!” I feel like I’d be perfectly content with just about anything, as long as it continued to get me from Point A to Point B and back.
Ford Econoline van, any size, if we’re talking daily driver here. If I’m going on road trips with lots of stuff, the club wagon (E350, seats 10 with cargo space left over).
A few years after college I decided to settle a bit, get respectable, sold my Corvette and 280 Z and bought a 240GL. That lasted a few years… then I bought another Z.
I like nice, fast cars and wouldn’t be happy with too much that’s dull, but I could make do in an old, beater 1985 Chevy Silverado. That’d be okay by me. At least I could park anywhere in a parking lot again.
If it runs ,has good tires and brakes plus is set up for a powerchair,why would I worry about what it looks like? Tho I might draw the line at a plaid paintjob
A W123 Mercedes 240D. From an era when you could make a “luxury car” by overbuilding them instead of just cramming more and more gadgets in them. Probably one of the only cars that seemed to be utterly impervious to mileage. Sure Hondas and Toyotas would run past 300k occasionally, but when they do you can usually tell. On those old Benzes though, you’d be hard-pressed to tell the difference between one with 100k and one with 300k.
The one I drove in the late 90’s/early 2000’s had vinyl seats, hand crank windows, a 4-speed stick, and of course, the mighty 64 horsepower engine. When I bought it it had over 250k miles on it, but the original owner had a thick paper spreadsheet that had every expense the car had incurred since the first tank of diesel in 1980. It was always fun watching people’s expectations dashed as they went from “wow, a Mercedes!” to “kinda sparse in here, and can’t this thing go any faster?”
Unfortunately around here a lot of them died during the fry-oil boom in the 2000’s, where a lot of younger people bought them up with the intention of running them on waste vegetable oil but tended not to actually maintain the cars all that well and lost interest once the supply of WVO dried up.
That’s the thing about nice cars. Some idiot is always parking too close and banging up your sides and bumpers.
I had a Jeep Wrangler for a few years. The only thing I liked about that car was that with all the fuck-off bumpers and running boards I didn’t care who bumped into it. It could do almost as much damage standing still as in a crash.
For obvious reasons, I don’t transport my 3 big, dirty-pawed dogs to and from the dog park in my ‘good’ car. Instead, I have a 1996 Olds LS that we purchased for my sons to drive back when they were in high school and college. It’s retained its paint job well, has had little to no major repairs (I finally had to have the fuel injectors replaced last year, but a $600 repair bill after 20 years isn’t too shabby), other than tires and brakes and the usual maintenance stuff. It’s comfortable to ride in, not so big that it’s hard to park, and not so distinctive a body style that it screams '90s. I have driven it to work a time or two when my ‘good’ car has been in the shop and haven’t minded one little bit. So I guess this is my dullest car…cause really, can you get duller than an old Olds?
When I was a kid, we had an orange Datsun B210. Two doors, two growing kids who had to fold themselves into the back seat. Next, a Sentra. Two doors, two way-bigger kids stuffed in the back. (Did I mention that my father didn’t allow us to get in through the driver’s side (something about not moving his seat) so we both had to climb in through the passenger door?) Then came the glorious day when my father said he might get a four-door Toyota Camry. Now it looks silly: