A Ford Pinto that my little brother gave me. I don't remember why he gave me a car. I had one. I now suspect he was trying to eliminate sibling rivalry.
Damn thing caught fire, somewhere under the hood, while parked in the parents attached garage. I kicked it into neutral while brother opened the garage door and we pushed it out. It rolled down the hill into the street. Mom had dialed the fire department. I had to pay to have that hunk of burnt junk away.
Then there was the '76 Chevy 3/4 ton ranch truck hubby had when we were married. Gutless wonder, it was. No reverse. Wide tires that slid you all over creation after a rain.
Being a sweet newlywed, and not knowing this truck, I tried to clean it out. Once. As I pulled up all the baling twine and whatever else was on the floor, I could see the ground underneath. I carefully placed everything back and did my best with cleaning the scratched and cracked windows. Once.