My second car, the only non-VW I ever owned, was a Datsun F10 -- remember those? I drove it through my third and fourth undergraduate years in Kingston, Ontario. Bad car, very bad car.

I unexpectedly inherited a bit of money in 1983 and used it to buy a better set of wheels. The Datsun was truly clapped out, rusted as only a 1970s Ontario-drive Datsun could get, and I knew its destination had to be the junkyard.

On the appointed day, the junkyard guy gave me $150 for it because at least it still ran. As he handed me the cheque, there was an odd crunching noise -- and there was the car, sort of down on its elbow. The passenger-side wheel had come off, some essential component of the underpinnings having finally given way.

The junkyard guy tried to take the cheque back, but I was too fast for him.