1965 Ford Falcon. Paid $200 for it and sold it a year later for $200. I loved it–I was mobile and none of my friends had a car. Red four door with a 289 engine in it.
The guy who purchased it from me rolled it within a couple of months though
A 1962 Chrysler Newport I inherited from my mother. The beast was 17 feet long and 7 feet wide. It had a dome instrument display and a pushbutton transmission. With the transmission, headlights and wipers on the left side of the panel, it’s the only car I’ve ever had that was actually left-handed-friendly.
Unfortunately, it was coral pink.
On the other hand, even though the Newport was considered underpowered by Chrylser standards, that monster could move. And with seats as wide as a living room sofa, it contributed to a regrettably few, but highly memorable, make out sessions.
A 1971 Ford XA falcon, the same model as the Interceptor in the Mad Max films.
Except mine was a sedan.
And baby-poo brown.
And a 6 instead of a V8.
But identical in all other respects :rolleyes:
What a POS. I was glad when it blew a head gasket without warning.
my first gasoline powered 4 wheeled transportation device (it didn’t qualify as a car IMHO) was a black '88 ford escort pony (65 HP, 4 speed manual, barely enough power to get out of it’s own way…), A.K.A. the “Murphy’s Lawmobile”, you name it, it broke…
lets set the WayBack machine for 1988…
10,000 miles, car bought used, in decent shape…
10,020 miles; idle computer dies, can drive the top speed in each gear without touching the gas, repaired under warranty, car out of service for 2 weeks…
20,000 miles; left front tie-rod on the verge of failure because ford decided to save .25¢ by putting a bushing on the end of the rod instead of a more durable ball bearing
30,000 miles; right front tie-rod, same reason as above
40,000 miles; drivers-side window shatters spontaneously while i’m inside paying for gas
40,050 miles; window shatters again NINE days later…
50,000 miles; ignition system dies, needs new plugs, plug wires, rotor, distributor cap
55,000 miles, gas tank develops slow leak, can’t keep more than 1/2 tank in it
60,000 miles; fuel injector burns out
65,000 miles; I trade in the piece of crap (getting a whopping $500 for it, i felt like i stole from the dealership) towards a '92 Dodge Shadow that gives me 120,000 trouble-free miles
Throughout this whole time the crapbox had an appetite for brakepads, rotors and tires (50,000 mile tires lasted barely 20,000), yes, the alignment was checked regularly and I never rode the brakes…
After that [sarcasm]WONDERFUL[/sarcasm] experience with ford, I’ve vowed to NEVER own another ford product as long as I live, and to make sure I discourage everyone I know from buying their sorry excuses for cars…
Heh. My first car was a 1966 Galaxie 500 Convertible, bought used at the gas station of one of my father’s army buddies. I never took it to college, not having a parking permit, which was lucky.
The first thing: some cars, people yell out their window, “cool car.” This car people yelled out their window, “your universal is about to fall off.”
Second thing - my brother drove it, or let someone else drive it, and got into a crash. This had two effects. First, the hood tended to fly up at odd times. Second, every so often the engine would decide to catch on fire when getting started.
The first time, for my brother, he got it out quickly. The second time was in the UN garage, near a fire extinguisher. The third time it did it for me, and I was pissed - we didn’t have any marshmellows or wienies to roast on the burning engine.
So my second car was another Galaxie, not a convertible, which always needed $150 of work, and which had caught the eye of some thieves in Boston. I was happy when it finally got stolen for good. This time I got a new Pinto, which, relatively speaking, was a delight.
And no one ever tailgated me.
BraheSilver, you kick ass.
My first car was a 1985 Ford Tempo as well. 97k on it when I bought it from a friend of my dad’s. Five on the floor. Clutch so soft that if I forgot to hit it, I still might get an upshift. Top speed of 60 mph with the wind. 200 bucks. I was so poor I had to pay him in three installments.
I put 55 bucks’ worth of maintenance into that car. 10 for oil, which I changed myself. Another three for five screw-clamps and three U-bolts which I used to hold the various pieces of the exhaust system in place. Two more for chicken wire as insurance policy aginst anything falling off on the highway. The remaining 30 bucks was to the junkman for a passenger-side door and a trunk (which I got off a Tempo GL- the next model up, so I looked like I drove less of a POS than I did). My car was a 4-door sedan with four separate keys when I was done with it.
But I ran that bad-boy for two years and change. Then I got hit from behind at a red light. Knocked clean through the intersection of Fordham Road and the Botanical Gardens and whaled into a concrete barrier. Thank God for unit-body construction. The Brown Bomber folded like a soda can and I walked away clean.
Extent of the damage? The back end had been folded up so badly that the fuel pump didn’t have the strength to get fuel to the engine. So what was my brillant solution? Two-ton jack in the trunk. Bend it back into shape.
Plan failed. Miserably. One shattered back windshield and a few cuts later, the other guy’s insurance company sent me a check.
Eight hundred sixty dollars! Score!
Then what did I do? Donated it to Heritage for the Blind. Blue-book value of the car as a tax writeoff. Six hundred and change off the top of a bouncer’s salary is a pretty good deal.
Upshot of the story? An investemt of 255 yielded about a 1k return. I still hoist a beer every October in memory of the Bomber.
1962 Pontiac Catalina convertible, got it in the middle of winter in Washington state. Paid $35 for it and my step father helped me put a good transmission in it. It had an electrical short that would kill the battery in a couple hours and the carburator had a fuel leak. Sold it to a friend of mine a few months later and the engine caught on fire a few weeks later. I saw an almost identical one a few years ago that had been restored sell at an auction for $35,000. I would love to have one today.
1996 Ford Contour. The reason I got it was because my mom had gotten a new car, and had elected to keep this one for me rather than trading it in. It ran all right for a while–when I got it, it had maybe 40-50K on it.
The interior was cheap. By the time I got it, the gearshift no longer indicated the correct gear (this was a known problem with this car), and the cupholders had died (also a known problem, 'cause the cupholders were crap). But, it was a car, and it ran, so I was very, very happy.
The car always ran hot, every since I got it, but that was the only problem I had at first. Once it hit about 70K, though, things started getting iffy. Around 90K, stuff started breaking. Things like the belt tensioner (not the belt). It developed an overheating problem that seemed to be multiple things at once (thermostat, fan not turning on, water pump leak, the serpentine belt being wonky because the tensioner was starting to go). About a year ago, at 110K-ish, one of the pullies that held the timing belt went. They were (like most of the stuff in the car) cheap plastic. We thought the car was dead, but, somehow, the engine survived. The experience, however, eliminated any balls the four-cylinder car might have ever had. I continued driving it, 'cause it was free.
Lately, it developed a problem with going; it wants to stall when I hit the gas to go from a standstill to moving. Now, according to my husband, the Contour is a bitch to work on. The car has 130K on it. And now I can barely trust it to get me across an intersection without stalling.
I got my first bought car just a couple of weeks ago. It’s a purple 1999 Dodge Neon, and I love the hell out of it. Still, though, I drove my first (free!) car from February of 2000 until May of 2006, so I think I got my money’s worth out of it.
I got my first car in 1995. It was a mid-eighties Dodge Aires. My grandfather solemnly told me that I was bound to “run into stuff” so my first car should be a beater.
He also insisted I learn on stick shift. I was indignant and frustrated, and finally threw up my hands and said I wasn’t going to practice on the Jeep any more. It was pointless-- most cars are automatics now. He looked at me calmly and said, “Lissa, what if one of these days you need a get-away car and the only one is a stick?” Devestated by that logic, I wnet back out and practiced with the Jeep.
A 1967 Ford XL (type of Galaxy). It had a 390 engine. It was a metallic light green color with a white interior. That thing could really go and I won many a race. Well, it could really go until this woman plowed into me with her hubby’s brand new Lincoln.
The car was considered a total loss, but my mom bought it back from the insurance company and I drove it until I could buy my first car on my own.
The first car I bought on my own was a 1978 Mustang Ghia. It was white, with a red top and red interior. That thing burned oil like you wouldn’t believe. It was a cute girl car, anyway.
My dad had one of those, but it was white. Wisely, he never let me near it. I ended up with his old car, a 1960 Rambler Super. It was white over pink and hideously designed. No, I never got laid or even had a date in the damn thing. But the posi-trac rear end was great in the winter. If you watch Brokeback Mountain, Randy Quaid is driving one in the opening scene.
The first car I ever bought was a 1959 Plymouth Suburban station wagon. Another guy and I went halfies on $300 bucks. I was stationed on Adak Island at the time, and the thing was a real bomb.
Although not technically mine (it was my brother’s car, I just drove it all the time), “my” first car was the Crapmobile, circa 1996-7. It was a 1984 Toyota Corolla, AKA Toyota Corroder, as it had spend the majority of it’s life sitting in a parking spot on the shores of the St. Lawrence river near Quebec City. It had more rust than paint, and driving it gave you the singular joy of getting your legs wet when you hit a puddle. The trunk was unusable due to the swiss-cheese rust holes and I had one friend freak out in a parking lot while sitting in the back seat and a squirrel poked it’s head up through the floor next to his legs. We used to ask people to ensure they had their tetanus shots, and the cheap quality of the 3rd party tape deck led to the wonderful “Riding Around in a Tin Can” song. The names “Crapmobile” and “Corroder” had been added to the car with a label maker, as was the helpful warning of “Please do not remove - label holding car together” across one rusty gash in it’s side. Good times, good times! In the end, we got rid of it because the hood top was begining to split (frame separating from the outer shell) and it was somewhat of a safety hazard! At the time of it’s demise, it was only at 94 000 KM. Mechanic told us the engine could go another 5 years (assuming maintenance work could be done through the rust) but the body was shot.
That was when I got the Tercel that I now drive. I keep telling myself I’ll get a new car when this one dies, but it doesn’t seem to want to go! Very little rust (considering it’s a Toyota and they rust away). 260 000KM on it, i’ve spent maybe about 1200$ in repairs OTHER than regular maintanence on it in the past 8 years since I’ve owned it (and that includes replacing the speakers that I blew!). Not nearly as much personality as the Corroder, but it’s been a good car and has never failed me. I commuted to university, I commuted to work, we regularly drove long distances on it, and no problems. I think I will be sad when it does finally give up the ghost, since it’s been so much a part of my life for the past several years.
1939 Chevrolet sedan that I bought in Iowa City in 1948. I traded it for a 1946 Cherolet sedan in 1950. I should have kept the '39.
1969 Chevy Nova. What I like in a car: dependable and good gas mileage. Bought it in '71 or '72.
1971 Chevrolet 1/2 ton pickup. Short wheelbase, stepside, with a straight six and a “three-on-a-tree.” Dad bought it for $900 and we spent probably close to $10,000 restoring it, but it was worth it. Drove it from the day I got my license until last October when I bought my Malibu.
1995 Ford escort…hatchback.
I went EVERYWHERE is that car. It had vice grips for window cranks and the passenger side mirror was held on by duck tape, but it just kept on going!
My first car was a 1977 Buick LeSabre. My family inherited it from my grandfather when he died in '82. My sister drove it until she went away to college in “The Big City” and couldn’t take it with her. I drove it, and was also told I couldn’t take it to college so that my brother would have it as his high school car. But he was far too cool to be seen in such a granny-mobile and bought his own, cooler car, so I took the Buick to college in '88 and it was effectively mine.
It was sort of a burnt orange color with a white hard top. My grandfather was afraid of being rear-ended so he had the back bumper reinforced with a steel bar, with the result that when you drove it, the nose was noticably in the air and if you drove over anything (including speed bumps) you’d bang the back bumper on the ground.
We three teenagers were very hard on it and by the time I graduated college it was a true POS. But it started up no matter how cold it got, and it got me from point A to point B reliably. I didn’t appreciate it enough at the time, but now I see it was quite the trusty old car.
1970 Toyota Corolla. I bought it for $100 in 1979. It had been in (at least one) accident, so the trunk didn’t close, I had to bungee cord it down. This created the interesting feature that exhaust would get sucked in to the trunk, gradually permeating the inside of the vehicle. If you drove it for more than 30 minutes, you would get quite the buzz. This being 1979, the buzz was strictly an add-on.
1966 Chrysler Windsor with a 383. Just like this one except it was shiny black. Called it the Batmobile.
My grandfather gave it to me when I got my license in 1984.
I have no idea how I could afford to pay for gas while I was in high school.
I drove the car for a couple of years before I got me next car. I didn’t appreciate how great that car was until after I sold it.
I would love to get another one.
1967 Chevy Impala. I bought it from my uncle for 75 dollars. Huge amount of rust and just an ugly car, but it was mine.
After many gallons of bondo and a cheap paint job it was road worthy.
I lost my virginity in that car. The back seat is huge, no leg cramping at all.
Talking of huge? The trunk could and did hold two full beer kegs with lawn chairs and various other beach stuff. with room to spare.
ahh, to be 16 again.