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.