1972 Chevy Nova, 250 CID straight-6, 3-on-the-tree, a fairly unattractive brown. Kind of pulled in front of a Honda going about 65 mph. I don’t so much miss that one as the 2nd 1972 Chevy Nova with the 307 V8, and neither as much as the 3rd, a 1971 GTO 455HO. I don’t miss any of the girls that I lost because of my drinking, but my greatest regret from that time is wrecking one of only 517 of that particular model made. Ugly as sin (I never have been able to do bodywork) but faster than hell. I once had it doing 150mph and passed a cop. Oh yeah, I miss the Goat.
For that specific geometry, sure: hitting a small ramp of dirt at the side of the road, to raise the front end about six inches before actually hitting the tree a glancing blow, so the car rolls onto the driver’s side, and rotates so that the floor of the car is now facing the direction of travel, so 90% of the deceleration is felt as a force pushing the passengers into their seats.
Very high crashworthiness in that geometry. (Climbing out, without glasses, was a challenge, though.)
I’ve mentioned this before, but first car was a '65 Buick Wildcat four-door, shod with four balding snow tires, purchased in early '73 for a princely $350. The 'cat had a huge V8 that moved it along quite smartly despite its behemoth size. Body was pretty good overall, but rust-through around the windshield meant it rained inside almost as much as out.
Drove for a bit over a year, then sold it on to a friend for about $200. Friend kept it for a few months until mounting mechanical problems made him tire of it, whereupon he sold it on to another friend for $50 or so, who kept it out on his family’s farm to do hot laps around their dirt horse track until, eventually, the radiator blew.
Red 1969 Plymouth Barracuda fastback, with a 318 cu. in. V8 (also came in a 383).
Great car on the straight, although the power steering was too sensitive. Horrible going around corners, like most American cars of the time, and for quite a while before and after.
It died after 165,000, which ain’t bad. I’d love to have that car again.
1964 Ford Falcon Futura 2-door sedan, with the 170-cid six cylinder, 1-bbl carb (manual choke), and 3 on the tree; black with a red interior. About 10 years ago, the guy who owned it after me told me it was still alive and living in St. Charles, MO. Hey, it was a car, but I wouldn’t want it back.
My first car was a 1978 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme. I got it for my 16th birthday in 1983, added a tape deck and a steering wheel cover, and slathered on the touch-up paint like it was Clearasil.
!936 Ford 2 door sedan. This was in 1955, I paid $110.00 for it. The body was cherry w/ the original black paint and two green pinstripes that ran around the body, just under the windows. Similar to this: http://betawings.com/images/wheels/1936fordtudor0309.jpg
My friends and I were commuters to Cal Berkeley and we were all Oakland hill dwellers without bus transportation (yes, young uns’, we took buses back then). I transported five students three days per week; no seat belts, bench seating. When we got low on gas we could put 29 cents worth in the tank and get around for the rest of the afternoon. (BTW, while we’re reminiscing, get off my lawn!)
My younger brother ‘striped’ it with orange house paint. The car was light green.
When I turned 16 I waited for my Dad to take me to DMV to get my license. He stalled and stalled, so one morning I got up very early, stole the Plymouth and went to DMV long before it opened. Took a nap and was one of the first that day to take the driver’s test. I passed and drove home to a very pissed Dad who later bragged to his friends about my ingenuity.
One night in San Francisco, I was at a stop light on Fillmore Street, half way through the crosswalk. Four musicians (they were carrying their instruments) started to cross and opened the back door, walked through the back seat area and continued through the crosswalk. Later we recognized that one of them was Mose Allison (nope, he wasn’t carrying a piano).
Mine was a hand-me-down light green '67 Chevy C20 pick up named Teddy Roosevelt (because it was a rough riding son of a gun).
Would I have it back? Yes, if I could afford the gas and oil (burned a quart for every 2 tanks of gas). BTW, it’s still running. The farmer that I sold it to for a wood hauler drove it for about 20 years before turning it over to his grandson to restore.
1973 Ford Maverick. I bought the car myself with the money I earned at my Dairy Queen job. I paid a whopping $350 for it. It only had 77,000 miles on it but the thing was a rust bucket. My father tried to talk me out of it and stated the rust would take its toll on the frame soon but I could not be swayed.
I ran her everywhere for a little over a year and put over ten thousand miles on her. The frame started to give way and she began to scoot down the road rather than role.
We ended up taking the engine out of her and placed it my fathers Ford Granada. It ran for many many years after that.
Mine was a red 1987 Dodge Shadow. It didn’t look bad at all and had a turbo in it. However, nobody that owned it before me had ever taken proper care of it and it showed.
The car had some, uhm, interesting problems in the 5 years or so that I drove it. It had this odd habit of breaking the brace that held the power steering rack in place and when it went, I’d lose all ability to turn the car while going backwards.
And the electrical problems made me think the car was possessed. For a long time I could have it on the interstate and suddenly the fuel injection would decide that what I really wanted to do was idle the car. I figured out that I could take my foot off the accelerator and put it back and trick the car for about 10 seconds before it decided I wanted to idle again. So for a few months, that’s how I drove. We never did figure it out and the problem went away on its on.
The power windows almost never worked. The switch would go out and I’d replace it. A week later, the window motor would go out. I’d finally save the cash to replace it and the window would fall out of the tracks requiring me to take the door apart to get it rolled back up. I finally just decided to forget rolling down the windows when the air conditioner broke. That was a fun summer.
And that’s not even the half of it. Would I want the car back? Hellz no! I love my Subaru!
Mine was a 1988 VW Fox, purchased at the insistence of my then fiance. She swore by VW’s. I just swore at them. It was a 5 speed, no AC, and I often found myself in 5th gear trying to shift up, as it had absolutely no power. I bought it in 1992 for $1200 and sold it a year later for $1000. The guy I sold it to also loved VW’s and still does. He crashed it about 6 months later.
I would never, ever, ever want that car back - unless it was melted down and reformed into something more useful – like a spoon.
Best car would have been – hmmm. Probably my 1997 Miata. I’ve owned over 35 cars since that VW, and I guess I liked the Miata the best. I should buy one again, methinks, but not till I finish restoring the two Jeeps I picked up (yes, I’m that strong).
My first car was an 84 Civic Hatchback – no air conditioning (mistake), 1300 cc engine, 4-speed manual, vinyl upholstery.
I’d love to own a car, and I loved the practicality of that car. I could get something like 37 mpg on the highway. But I’d go with ac, cloth seats, and a better stereo.
(Climbing out, without glasses, was a challenge, though.)
