From 1974 through 1976 (when it got stolen in Boston), I had a red, 1968 Dodge Dart. I loved that car--the way it smelled, the way the engine tick-tick-ticked, the way the rear view mirror would fall off if I went over a bump, the way the turn signals went "kerplunk, kerplunk," the way the passenger door would fly open if I took a left-hand turn too fast... It was hilarious watching my passenger's reaction to that. I never put oil or steering fluid in this thing--only gasoline--that was the only thing that was important to me. It had tires so bald you could see the threads and faithfully carried me all over the East Coast. They don't make 'em like that anymore. Sorry, all this talk about cars made me sentimental... (sigh)