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My first car was a dingy yellow 1977 Plymouth Arrow with a green racing stripe. It leaked transmission fluid at a prodigious rate. The right front ball joint was worn out and it made a horrendous "kerthunk" if I went over the slightest bump. The muffler was held on with wire, but wasn't actually attached under the car so it was loud as hell. The right hinge on the hatchback had rusted through, so you couldn't open it, and the passenger door would occasionally fly open when I made a sharp left turn. If I came to a full stop, it would stall.
My dad gave it to me... I was 29, recently divorced with an infant and a toddler, and grateful as fuck to have it!
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