this question asks the opposite; which has been your least favorite vehicle, and why? If you care to list more than one vehicle as least favorites, please feel free to do so.
Mine were these two, a Ford Mustang and an Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme, the latter being the worst of the pair.
The Mustang was my first and last sports car. I found it to be slung way too low for my preferences, the way the driver’s seat was designed was far too “laid back” and could not be adjusted differently, much too restrictive field of visibility, too difficult to be seen by other drivers. I learned that sports cars are not my choice, and I have shied away from them ever since.
When I was growing up, my stepfather always said that a car is nothing but a hole to throw money into, and 15 years later, I had to agree with that sentiment because I became the owner of the Olds. It had so many mechanical problems that I called myself a member of the Part-of-the-Month-Club. I poured so much money into that clunker that I could have bought a second car. Finally, before it bankrupted me completely, it died an agonizing death and only more money would have resuscitated it. I was spunt. Instead of falling for that old trick, I became carless for almost a year until my job situation and accompanying financial status improved enough for me to find a more reliable replacement.
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That's easy - my '86 Nissan Pickup.
The POS suddenly decided it didn’t like running and would die at any opportunity. Such as...
- In the middle of the freeway (I was fortunate enough to get it from the fast lane off onto the right shoulder before momentum gave out).
- On a very icy winter morning (causing me to slide helplessly off the road and, thankfully, into the curb instead of over the side of a hill).
- In the entrance to work (blocking traffic and making me late to work)
- And much more!
The Nissan dealer couldn’t find anything wrong with it.
You and I have that Cutlass Supreme in common as our worst car. I can’t remember what year model I had.
:(
My 1999 Toyota Avalon did that to me back in December of 2019 while I was on the way home. I was on the highway doing about 65 mph when all of a sudden the speed dropped. I thought maybe I had hit the gear shift lever from Drive to Neutral, or maybe I was on Cruise Control and had accidentally shut it off, but the immediate concern was either getting back up to speed or getting the buggy onto the nearest shoulder. I went through all the immediate action drills to ascertain or correct the malfunction, but I was in gear, the Cruise Control was not engaged, there was gasoline in the tank, and my foot was on the accelerator. Since it wouldn’t get back to anywhere near 65 mph again, I signaled right and aimed the nose for the shoulder of the road. Luckily, it was mid afternoon and traffic was extremely light.
Once I was stopped on the shoulder, I checked out the whole vehicle and couldn’t find the problem. I decided to abandon the highway and take surface streets to get home. Sure enough, when I set out, I could only get a max speed of about 16 mph. I took the next exit ramp and limped home, a normal 20-minute commute from where the incident started to the house took me about 40 minutes, because even on streets with a 35 mph speed limit, I couldn’t muster it, so I was constantly pulling over to let other drivers pass me.
Being a 20-year-old car, especially having been subjected to my driving for the past ten years of its life, I wasn’t about to sink money into diagnosing and surgery, I only drove it on test runs in my own neighborhood over the next few days, and 16 mph became its new normal. Gradually, the problem corrected itself, and I could drive at higher speeds, but I never trusted it for everyday use after that, especially not on the highway. I assume it was a timing belt problem or drive train or transmission, etc., and I was already spending too much money to keep the patient alive. I decided to donate it to charity for the tax write-off, which we did before December 31st so that it would apply to our upcoming tax filing.
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“Mayday, Mayday, Mayday! Headquarters, this is Randy D, I’ve lost engine power, thrust has dropped from 65 to 15, I’m losing altitude fast! I’m going to glide for as long as I can before bailing out, I’ll try to see if I can make it to one of these small islands and put ‘er down on its beach or any flat surface I can find without cracking up on a cliff side or in the coral reef. I’m not on fire nor trailing smoke, so I don’t think I was hit by enemy fire, it looks like engine failure. I’m on a northern flight path from the final leg of the patrol route, last known point was Landmark Lima 15 seconds ago, I’m separated from the rest of the squadron. I will radio in my position as soon as I get a bearing, and if I can, the coordinates where I put down. Mayday, Mayday, Mayday!”
[[I‘m always a WWII fighter pilot when I drive, mostly in the Pacific Theatre, sometimes over the European Theatre.]]
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Curse you, Red Baron! Grrrrrrr. (Even though that was WWI, not WWII.)
Shuhak 