When I was 16 my dad brought me home an '88 Ford Tempo. He was so proud and was worried that I was gonna feel spoiled with his purchase. Right. Exactly what I was feeling. Especially when it started and the fan belt let a horrifying screaching noise and people looked around for a horse in pain.
The car's driver was not supposed to be a young high schooled girl, but a 80 something woman who frequented BINGO night. I especially felt spoiled when all of my friends were driving around their brand new honda civics (which actually started) or something nice that their parents passed onto them.
Needless to say, the car was a piece. It got so unreliable that I eventually started driving my mom's car which I ended up totalling when an asshole plowed into me in a nasty, nasty hit and run accident when I was 18. I think we ended up dumping the 'ol Tempo on some lucky family and I remember my dad giving them the pitch that is was a great "reliable family truckster". Right again, dad.
So in honor of my first car, here is a lovely picture of the same one (just imagine it in white). I can still picture myself driving from party to party with a bunch of my friends piled in it. I shared some good times with that car. What a gem.