71 here, Sahara, Recarros, with twin Weber 40’s, head work, header and NO RUST! Let the bidding commense!
My first ride? JT-1, followed quickly by the LT-2, almost immediatly by the TS-250, then quickly to the pants-shittingly-awsome IT-465! Nothing like it for miles where I grew up. I was flat local legend! I had a freshmen *ask for my autograph *in high-school!
Bright orange 1974 VW Beetle. I still miss it. 
Mine was a 1969 Morris 1100.
Slipping clutch, worn CV joints and broken suspension.
Had it for 6 months before selling it to the local shade tree mechanic, whereupon dad bought it back as a trailer.
I paid $410 for it when I got my license in 1989. Learnt how to back a trailer in that sucker also.
I was 11 when I got my 1972 LT2. And then 15 when I got my 1976 Yamaha 250 Enduro. DT250B I believe. Looks like we are just off by a year when we got them.
My first car was a 1962 Olds 98. Quite a tank.
1984 Oldsmobile Delta 88. Her name was Brunhilda. She was enormous, had only 50,000 miles (this would be in 1999-2000) and over the course of the years I had her, slowly fell apart. The first issue was a seriously squeaky belt somewhere that nobody seemed to be able to fix. It sounded like a deranged seal and probably woke the neighbors whenever I left for school.
Then she started stalling whenever I tried to make a left turn. Don’t know if that was coincidence or not, but I guess I couldn’t stay at a stoplight for very long without stalling. More than once she stalled on the highway and I had just enough time to get to the side of the road before the steering wheel locked up.
One day I was driving down the road and part of the passenger side door fell off. I threw it in the back of the trunk and carried on.
Brake lines needed to be fixed. Took care of that.
Then the transmission got fucked up and I couldn’t go in reverse. This was especially fun at parking garages, where I had to literally get out of the car while it was in neutral and push it out of my parking space. I vividly remember doing this when I went to Ann Arbor for freshman orientation.
God I loved that car.
A powder-blue 1972 Gremlin, which I bought in 1980 for $200 when I was 16 shortly after I got my driver’s license. No working radio, no emergency brake, and the driver-side door wasn’t always easy to open, but it was my car and I loved it.
It died in front of our house 3 years later and my dad helped me push it out of the street and back into the driveway. He couldn’t fix it, and we had to have it towed. I took the little Gremlin plate off the door before it was taken away, and kept it for years.
1973 Gremlin X (not my car pictured, mine was chocolate brown w/ white stripes) It had a 304cc engine, dual exhaust, manual transmission, air shocks, “H” width tires, a 22 gal tank, and an 8 track!
Car was quick as a bunny and a blast to drive.
A 1979 Fiat X1/9, in metallic blue, similar to this one (although the color’s not quite right).
It made college fun.
My first car was Bucki the Pimpmobile, a POS 92 Buick Skylark–silver gray exterior paint with plush dark red interior. Even though he was huge and hard to park, I loved Bucki–if I had gotten into an accident the other car wou ld’ve had more damage because Bucki was a steel behemoth.
I was driving Bucki when I found out about the WTC bombings on 9/11…I was on my way into work and I’d turned on the radio so I could put a tape in the cassette player. I remember the station it was on had (still has, I think) an annoying morning DJ who was famous for playing pranks that were in horribly bad taste. I thought that what he was talking about (the planes flying into the WTC, etc) were another one of his bad taste jokes and I kept waiting for the punchline. But instead ABC World News broke into the broadcast and I knew it was real.
When Bucki finally gave up the ghost and had to go, I was really sad. I’d only had him for a few short years but I’d really come to love him in that short period. Although I liked my next car (a Dodge Neon) and have a love/hate relationship with my current car (a PT Cruiser fondly known as The Lovechild), I will always have a special place in my heart for Bucki.
A 1964 Chevrolet Belair, given to me by my father after my sister had an accident in it. I replaced the hood, radiator, and one of the fenders myself. This huge, heavy car had a 230 cubic inch straight six, making it grossly underpowered. But it could carry a lot of friends and musical equipment. It looked like this, except that it was dark blue.
1978 Toyota Celica ST, reddish-orange. Pretty much this, but with the steering wheel on the correct side. Cost me $900 in 1986. I miss that car.
My first motorcycle was 1983 Yamaha XS 650 SK Heritage Special, in black like these
My first “car” was also a Ford Crapscort, a 1988 bare bones “Pony” model with a FOUR speed manual gearbox, yes, ford was too cheap to put a fifth gear in, and a thundering 85 HP 1.9 liter asthmatic four cylinder
Mine also crapped out at 80,000 miles, I think they all were designed to die at 80k, to this day I can’t bring myself to trust ford again, my Crapscort earned it’s nickname of “The Murphy’s Lawmobile”, you name it, it broke, I’m convinced it suffered from Car Leprosy…
My first car was a red 1978 MGB. The electrical system was crap, in fact the day my parents and I bought the car it wouldn’t start. Turning the key wouldn’t engage the starter, there was another button in a nest of wires under the dash that actually started the car. And yet I somehow convinced my mother and stepfather to buy this car for me. I couldn’t even drive it home because I didn’t know how to drive manual transmissions.
It had a lot of problems but if it would start it rarely stranded me. Driving around with the top down was awesome.
1984 Chevette. Three over-caffienated gerbils under the hood. 0 - 60 in, oh, 10 minutes or so. Cardboard floor.
I decided once to drive all the way around the I-285, the bypass highway that surrounds Atlanta, to see if I could get it up over 60 mph. I did, but when I got home, the engine caught fire.
The advantage of starting your automotive life off with a Chevette is that every other car you own seems like a Aston-Martin by comparison.
A 1983 Oldsmobile Cutlass. It had a broken speedometer with over 190,000 miles on it.
1966 MG Midget. I was little as well, so it seemed appropriate. I still have it to this day.
My BIL owned the British-Leyland dealership in town, and gave it to me when I was 14 in 1977. I re-built the motor, overhauled everything, had Earl Sheib paint it for $99. Then I had to wait a year to drive it.
During that time, I’d buy trade-ins from him for $50, and fix them up and sell them.
Between '77 and '81, I had every MG, Jaguar, Porsche, Triumph, Sunbeam, and more that I could get my hands on. I never worked a real job - just restored old cars and fixed my friends cars. I think I had over 200 cars pass through my hands during that time, and I miss every one!
My first brand-new car came when I was 19. A girlfriend had wrecked my Midget, and I needed something that could cope with Atlanta traffic a bit better than an MG.
Behold, the 1983 Ford Escort in red. Once the muffler rusted away, it sounded like a real sports car, accelerated better, and got better mileage.
I put a sunroof in it, Hella fog lights, a thumping Kenwood stereo with Jensen Triax [speakers](http://i.ebayimg.com/t/1980-Jensen-Triax-II-Speakers-Vintage-Photo-Print-Ad-/00/$(KGrHqR,!j!E1NPEVRk1BNbFkYLBI!~~_3.JPG) pumping a full 100 watts, and I was styling, baby!
It overheated on I-285, and I had it towed somewhere.
Called Ford Motor Credit and told them I’m not paying for a POS with no temperature gauge to warn a person of impending doom. Told them to come and get it, and never saw it again.
I miss my Escort.
1967 Olds Toronado, 425 cu in, 4 bbl.
My first car was a 1970 Datsun 1600, sold as the 510 in the US. However, it was a different car from your 1978 model which was sold as a 510 in the US because the early [real;)] 510’s had a good reputation.
The only system in the car I didn’t completely rebuild was the steering box.
It wasn’t the most powerful car, even after I fitted SU’s and exhaust headers, but - especially after I put gas shocks in it - it handled like it was on rails, and is the best handling car I’ve ever driven.
1970 VW Beetle. Just like this.
Seeing that image made my heart leap and sink at exactly the same time.
God I loved that car. Even an MG and a BMW never drove its way into my being like that car did. It’s the only one I’ve ever named.
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