Tell us about hoopty's you have owned in the past or currently. For those not in the know, a hoopty is a beat up car that is embarrassing to own or drive. The terminology has been around since at least 1980's rap music. Sir Mix-A-Lot (of Baby Got Back, fame) rapped a tribute to Hoopty's everywhere in his 1989 album, Seminar. Video linked below for your reference:

My first hoopty was my first car purchased in 1989. It was a 1968 VW Bug. I outfitted it with a modest but good sound system (6x9 on boards so it bumped) but that was the only good thing about the car. The brakes slowly stopped working every couple of months requiring constant trips to the mechanic. Other things constantly broke down. I dinged the front left against a pole in a parking lot and never got that dent fixed either. But it was a ride in high school and I was happy to have it.

My second hoopty was a 1979 Mazda RX7 that I traded my VW Bug for. The car looked great but it had over 200k miles on it and the rebuilt engine was cracked and leaked oil terribly. I kept oil in the car and every morning would pour a new quart in. Eventually the door lock stopped working and then a window got smashed out. I sold it to a used car dealership for a couple hundred dollars.

My third and last hoopty was a 1980's era Buick something-rather. I paid less than $1,000 for it and kept it alive for nearly a year. I kept very little in the car because I knew when it broke down I would abandon it. When it finally died I took my belongings and walked away. When a towing company sent me a huge bill a few months later I signed the pink slip and put the keys in the mail and gave them ownership of the car.

My next car was cheap but it ran well - funny thing is that was technically considered a "salvage" but it gave me no problems for the couple years I drove it. I've been buying from dealerships since then.

What are your hoopty stories?

I had an '83 honda civic wagon with over 220k miles before it blew a gasket and rolled to stop at the top of an exit in vallejo. my barber taught me a cool trick. i cleaned out the rear window washer reservoir, filled it with booze, and ran a line from there, under the carpet and into the ash tray compartment, so at the touch of a button, instant mini bar for nights at the drive-in. still my favorite car ever. got it up to 110mph coming down the hill from n lake tahoe once.

'66 Rambler American 220, manual transmission. Driving across country with two friends, ended up with hole in muffler, sounded like hell. Alternator then went out, had to get it jumped to start it since it wasn't recharging, drove 30 straight hours to Sacramento alternating drivers without shutting off car so we didn't have to get it jump started again. Eventually took it to junk yard in West Berkeley and sold it for scrap after numerous other failures.

1963 Chevy Nova II Wagon ... hand painted with a brush by my sign-painter grandfather. I kick myself everyday for not taking better care of that honey. I never opened the hood after it was willed to me until it blew up in 1977 on 280. The tow truck driver said all the wires had melted. It was a hoopty but oh what a hoopty. It could have been a classic to this day had I taken care of it. And it would have been so easy to work on compared to the cars I've since owned with their engine compartments full of hoses, wires and computer boards. :cry:

I've had a ton of crap cars. However, I had an '85 Peugeot 505 that I just loved despite all its French engineering deficiencies. I felt cool in that car. It had a hydrolic suspension that was awesome and gave it a very smooth ride. Also, the overstuffed seats were crazy cozy.

Of course, the electrical system was crap and the car would unexpectedly stop running at times. That's while I was on the road. Scared the bejesus out of me every time. Happened on the way back from Santa Cruz once in the middle of the night once. Horrible.

Well finally, once while driving back to the Bay Area from Sacto, it happened and wouldn't start back up. I had to borrow money from a friend to have it towed and once I got the estimate to have it fixed and realized that I had nowhere near the $ to pay for it, I sold it to the mechanic for $500.

1972 Datsun pickup. It was my grandpa's truck which he sold to me on my 16th birthday for 1 dollar. He lived in a tough neighborhood in East Los Angeles, so as a safety measure he removed the factory installed locking mechanism, which anyone with a coat hanger could circumvent, and replaced it with his own....complete with matching masterlocks on each door. He routinely changed the paint color on his own with spray paint. By the time I received the car the car was blueish except for the driver's door which was black. My dad and I went to a junkyard and found a matching set of white mag wheel style rims. This was before strict seatbelt laws so my car was very popular with my friends when we needed to get everyone to soccer practice or elsewhere. Everyone called her Betsy. She could backfire on command if the brakes were applied in a moderately heavy fashion. Surprisingly, never had a single mechanical issue in the 3 years I owned it. We sold it to a Mexican laborer for $150.

My first car was a 1941 Ford coupe which I bought in 1953 for $195. Within a week, while my mother was driving, the brakes failed due to rotted brake hoses. She stopped it by coasting into the curb, got out and walked home. The starter motor used to stick so you had to rock the car from side to side to free it up. The wiring was all screwed up and there was no dimmer switch so oncoming night drivers used to go crazy until I found depressing the clutch seemed to lessen the brightness. Once, returning from Sacramento at night, my GF complained of the cold and when I turned the heater on, the lights went out...on a 2 lane unlit country road at 50 mph! Fittingly, it perished in the Yuba City Christmas flood of 1955. I've had other dogs over the years but that was my first/worst. Not surprisingly, I HATE cars!

dajo9;842470303 said:

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My second hoopty was a 1979 Mazda RX7 that I traded my VW Bug for. The car looked great but it had over 200k miles on it and the rebuilt engine was cracked and leaked oil terribly. I kept oil in the car and every morning would pour a new quart in. Eventually the door lock stopped working and then a window got smashed out. I sold it to a used car dealership for a couple hundred dollars.

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My dad owned a 1980 Rx7 as well as a 1986 convertible. I still have a 1993 3rd Gen FD 7 in my garage. Great cars, but if they aren't taken care of they end up like yours and bleed out oil.

My high school hoopty was a 1971 Olds Cutlass 442 that I bought from my cousin for $500 bucks. The original owner was a member of the Crocker Family. My cousin came to buying it from them as my uncle worked at one of the Crocker's homes in Hillsborough. Had the big 455 motor and Turbo 400 tranny. Thing got like 8 miles to the gallon and would overheat almost daily as I cruised over the Bay Bridge to work at OAK.

It's been almost 30 years since I bought that car.....almost sold it a few years ago as it's been sitting around and in desperate need of a restoration, but decided to keep it. Too many good memories in it. Today....same car restored can fetch $40K-$50K. Lot's of great memories in that old jalopy. First date, drive in movie outings, street racing and also cruising down El Camino in San Mateo when that was a thing. Great times.

[ATTACH=CONFIG]4430[/ATTACH]

The list is long. Had a 1965 Dodge Dart ("the Dodge Dirt") in high school in Louisiana. Every time you ran over a puddle, water would shoot up through the holes in the rusted out floorboards. The next one was a 1969 Ford Capri ("the Crappy") that had so many problems I never filled the tank with gas for fear that I might have to abandon the car and lose the $20 worth of gas still in it (this was 1978). At Cal it was a Datsun B210 that lost all of its clutch fluid on the Bay Bridge one night.

OzoneTheCat;842470362 said:

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1972 Datsun pickup. It was my grandpa's truck which he sold to me on my 16th birthday for 1 dollar. He lived in a tough neighborhood in East Los Angeles, so as a safety measure he removed the factory installed locking mechanism, which anyone with a coat hanger could circumvent, and replaced it with his own....complete with matching masterlocks on each door. He routinely changed the paint color on his own with spray paint. By the time I received the car the car was blueish except for the driver's door which was black. My dad and I went to a junkyard and found a matching set of white mag wheel style rims. This was before strict seatbelt laws so my car was very popular with my friends when we needed to get everyone to soccer practice or elsewhere. Everyone called her Betsy. She could backfire on command if the brakes were applied in a moderately heavy fashion. Surprisingly, never had a single mechanical issue in the 3 years I owned it. We sold it to a Mexican laborer for $150.

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Your grandpa sounds awesome

Hoopty? I have heard of POS and Beater but I have never heard that term and I'm a big car guy. My first two cars probably fall into that category. The year was 1965 and my best friend in high school owned a 1961 Corvair 2 door/ stick. I didn't have a lot of money back then but I did find a 1960 Corvair for $200 at a car lot in East Oakland. It was a 4 door with an auto transmission. Well the car had a rust hole the size of your arm located on the floor board of the back seat. It was hidden by a rubber floor mat. Having lived in California all my life I knew nothing of Midwest and East Coast salted roads during the winter. Well the battery was completely dead and I mean dead, it could be jump started but wouldn't hold a charge and the starter motor was on it's last legs. The car was painted silver but was so faded it looked grey. It had a dent in the engine compartment hood, they were rear engine air cooled cars. So I proceeded to patch the dent. Not knowing anything about bodywork I bought a can of Bondo and just filled the damage without pulling any of the dent out. I then took the car into Earl Scheib to be repainted. I didn't want the basic $29.95 paint job, I opted for the more expensive $39.95 option which gave you a premium color and they painted the wheels and door jams I choose a maroon paint that was supposed to be a metallic. Well if the sun was out and you looked at the car at just the right angle you could see three or four pieces of metal flake. I then put a white racing stripe down the length of the car. I purchased a set of hedders that I purchased from J.C. Whitney and I bought two cheater slicks from Grand Auto I thought it was cool.

My second car was a 1946 four door Buick Roadmaster that was as long as the distance from Telegraph Ave to Shattuck Ave. The original owner had it painted a two tone cream & apricot. It had the big Buick straight eight engine. There were spotlights on both sides. I used to cruise the Main in Richmond, MacDonald Ave between 23rd St. and 1st St. with an occasional trip over to Haight-Ashbury in San Francisco.It got a lot of looks, not all good ones.

80 something Ford Courier Pickup.....The Story:

I started to rebuild my garage in 1995 and was using my "87 VW Cabriolet as a pickup.
One day I was walking through the Rockridge BART parking lot and a guy came up asking me if I wanted to buy a truck.
I told him "no thanks, but he was persistent.
He pointed to the truck and said $500 bucks.
I asked him to start it and move it.
It was a relatively presentable Ford Courier, yellow with some grey primed spots. No major dents, started up and went forward and backward.
The registration tags said 1989.
He had a signed pink slip.
I told him I didn't have $500 bucks and kept walking.
Walked straight to the BoA at College and Claremont, took out $300 bucks (the max) from the ATM and walked back.
He was still there.
I offered $300 cash, and he took it, gave me the keys and the pink and walked off.
I drove off.
I used that truck for about 8 months.
Got well over $300 use....more like $3000
I did buy a new battery for it.
When I was done, I started it up,jammed a piece of wood on the gas pedal and removed the battery.
Got in the truck a drove it to Shattuck and Alcatraz.
Left the pink on the dash and walked away.
A few years later, I was at Wallgreens on 51st.
There, backing out of a space, was the 80's something Yellow Ford Courier with a few dents and no tail gate....still with '89 stickers.

Cheers!!
Go Bears!!!

bar20;842470401 said:

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Hoopty? I have heard of POS and Beater but I have never heard that term and I'm a big car guy.

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Hooptie, bucket, etc.

My hooptie rollin', tailpipe draggin'
Heat don't work an' my girl keeps naggin'
Six-nine Buick, deuce keeps rollin'
One hubcap 'cause three got stolen
Bumper shook loose, chrome keeps scrapin'
Mis-matched tires, and my white walls flakin'
Hit mickey-d's, Maharaji starts to bug
He ate a quarter-pounder, threw the pickles on my rug
Runnin', movin', tags expired
Girlies tryin' to dis 'n say my car looks tired
Hit my brakes, out slid skittles
Tinted back window with a bubble in the middle
Who's car is it? Posse won't say
We all play it off when you look our way
Rollin' four deep, tires smoke up the block
Gotta roll this bucket, 'cause my Benz is in the shop

In 1986 I bought a '68 Rambler with 3 other guys at Cal for $100 bucks, $25/ea. It was christened Rambo since it appeared to have a death wish and irony was in. It was a multipurpose vehicle; errand car, party car, drive to your internship car and the occasional date car (hey it worked, most of the time). It was fun to have around but as things go, as the semester wore on, and the crapper winter weather settled in...it kind of just sat parked on Northside and eventually was towed/impounded but we never went to get it. Always had great trips to SF and to International Blvd for tacos, also hit up Sun Hong Kong in Oakland Chinatown.

Translations:

Urban = Hoopty
Suburban = POS
Rural = Beater

dajo9;842470303 said:

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Tell us about hoopty's you have owned in the past or currently. For those not in the know, a hoopty is a beat up car that is embarrassing to own or drive. The terminology has been around since at least 1980's rap music. Sir Mix-A-Lot (of Baby Got Back, fame) rapped a tribute to Hoopty's everywhere in his 1989 album, Seminar. Video linked below for your reference:

My first hoopty was my first car purchased in 1989. It was a 1968 VW Bug. I outfitted it with a modest but good sound system (6x9 on boards so it bumped) but that was the only good thing about the car. The brakes slowly stopped working every couple of months requiring constant trips to the mechanic. Other things constantly broke down. I dinged the front left against a pole in a parking lot and never got that dent fixed either. But it was a ride in high school and I was happy to have it.

My second hoopty was a 1979 Mazda RX7 that I traded my VW Bug for. The car looked great but it had over 200k miles on it and the rebuilt engine was cracked and leaked oil terribly. I kept oil in the car and every morning would pour a new quart in. Eventually the door lock stopped working and then a window got smashed out. I sold it to a used car dealership for a couple hundred dollars.

My third and last hoopty was a 1980's era Buick something-rather. I paid less than $1,000 for it and kept it alive for nearly a year. I kept very little in the car because I knew when it broke down I would abandon it. When it finally died I took my belongings and walked away. When a towing company sent me a huge bill a few months later I signed the pink slip and put the keys in the mail and gave them ownership of the car.

My next car was cheap but it ran well - funny thing is that was technically considered a "salvage" but it gave me no problems for the couple years I drove it. I've been buying from dealerships since then.

What are your hoopty stories?

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I had 1980 RX-7 for 11 years. Put 150,000 miles on it. You must be the Rudy to my Dexter, or vice-versa.

wifeisafurd;842470427 said:

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I had 1980 RX-7 for 11 years. Put 150,000 miles on it. You must be the Rudy to my Dexter, or vice-versa.

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I don't get the reference, but cool. The car was my Dad's before mine so maybe you are my. . . ?

dajo9;842470433 said:

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I don't get the reference, but cool. The car was my Dad's before mine so maybe you are my. . . ?

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Rudy and Dexter are long lost brothers (in the Dexter TV show) who don't know the other exists, with the same proclivities, but who view the world differently.

Back in high school I got a hand-me-down from my aunt, a 1990 Nissan Maxima which leaked oil while steering with the brake applied, what sucked is that my parents got rid of it when I was in Berkeley because the transmission was going to hell anyway, the car was in good shape aesthetically but that was the only good part about it, it's a nice ride but without longevity.

I loved my first car. I bought it brand new for $3000: 1972 Orange VW Squareback Sedan. I had it for 9 years until some dude high on drugs shot the stop sign at the corner of Chabot and College Avenue (in front of Dreyer's) and t-boned my passenger side door at 2:00 am. in the morning--and totaled it. Broke my f'ing heart.

dajo9;842470303 said:

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Tell us about hoopty's you have owned in the past or currently. For those not in the know, a hoopty is a beat up car that is embarrassing to own or drive. The terminology has been around since at least 1980's rap music. Sir Mix-A-Lot (of Baby Got Back, fame) rapped a tribute to Hoopty's everywhere in his 1989 album, Seminar. Video linked below for your reference:

My first hoopty was my first car purchased in 1989. It was a 1968 VW Bug. I outfitted it with a modest but good sound system (6x9 on boards so it bumped) but that was the only good thing about the car. The brakes slowly stopped working every couple of months requiring constant trips to the mechanic. Other things constantly broke down. I dinged the front left against a pole in a parking lot and never got that dent fixed either. But it was a ride in high school and I was happy to have it.

My second hoopty was a 1979 Mazda RX7 that I traded my VW Bug for. The car looked great but it had over 200k miles on it and the rebuilt engine was cracked and leaked oil terribly. I kept oil in the car and every morning would pour a new quart in. Eventually the door lock stopped working and then a window got smashed out. I sold it to a used car dealership for a couple hundred dollars.

My third and last hoopty was a 1980's era Buick something-rather. I paid less than $1,000 for it and kept it alive for nearly a year. I kept very little in the car because I knew when it broke down I would abandon it. When it finally died I took my belongings and walked away. When a towing company sent me a huge bill a few months later I signed the pink slip and put the keys in the mail and gave them ownership of the car.

My next car was cheap but it ran well - funny thing is that was technically considered a "salvage" but it gave me no problems for the couple years I drove it. I've been buying from dealerships since then.

What are your hoopty stories?

---

I had an 81 Oldsmobile that was handed down to me by my parents when I turned 16. For some reason, the car would stall every morning with the first left turn I made. As such, I had to wait until there was absolutely no car before I made my first left turn into the main road. Also, the car became angry whenever I would turn off the engine, rumbling and shaking as if it were possessed. My final experience with the car came when I was driving in the rain and the brakes just stopped working. I stepped on the brakes and all I heard was air. I wasn't going too fast, and as such, I was able to cruise into a parking lot and bump into a large trash bin to stop the car. After that incident, we sold it and I rode a bicycle the rest of my time in high school.

calbear93;842470481 said:

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I had an 81 Oldsmobile that was handed down to me by my parents when I turned 16. For some reason, the car would stall every morning with the first left turn I made. As such, I had to wait until there was absolutely no car before I made my first left turn into the main road. Also, the car became angry whenever I would turn off the engine, rumbling and shaking as if it were possessed. My final experience with the car came when I was driving in the rain and the brakes just stopped working. I stepped on the brakes and all I heard was air. I wasn't going too fast, and as such, I was able to cruise into a parking lot and bump into a large trash bin to stop the car. After that incident, we sold it and I rode a bicycle the rest of my time in high school.

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That reminds me of a story with my Mazda (my hoopty #2). I drove it many months then one cold morning I went out and the car wouldn't start. I called a tow truck and at the mechanic shop the guy showed me how I had to pull out the choke. I'm not very knowledgeable about cars to this day and certainly knew nothing about the choke at the time. Then the guy says, "that'll be $35" and I said, "but you didn't do anything". He said, "knowledge costs money". Being an indebted college student at the time, how could I argue with that? I paid and went on my way.

1971 Mazda RX-2, my first car, and one of the first rotary engine models sold. It only had 36K miles, and since I bought it from a dealer, I figured it would be in great shape. Well, couple months after I bought it, the engine needed a rebuild. The early rotaries were notorious for wearing out the seals on the rotor tips, (equivalent to head gaskets in piston engines). When that happened the entire engine had to be rebuilt. Later on I had to replace the alternator, radiator, muffler, the list went on. I took it Colorado once, and ended up spending a couple of unexpected nights in Canon City trying to track down a fuel pump. At the same time the front end decided it needed alignment, but being broke, I risked getting back to CA with the front end doing the jitterbug at freeway speeds. Pulled into my apartment parking spot with two completely bald front tires.
But I still had some fun with it. The emission controls were designed so if you accelerated hard then suddenly let up on the gas, the car would backfire... a very loud backfire. First time it happened in the Caldecott Tunnel I nearly had a heart attack. I'm sure any cars near me must have thought they had just had a blowout.
A year later I sold the car to my Dad. For some reason that didn't do much for father son bonding.

Thanks, I feel much older. My first new car was a 1977 Datsun pickup.

OzoneTheCat;842470362 said:

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1972 Datsun pickup. It was my grandpa's truck which he sold to me on my 16th birthday for 1 dollar. He lived in a tough neighborhood in East Los Angeles, so as a safety measure he removed the factory installed locking mechanism, which anyone with a coat hanger could circumvent, and replaced it with his own....complete with matching masterlocks on each door. He routinely changed the paint color on his own with spray paint. By the time I received the car the car was blueish except for the driver's door which was black. My dad and I went to a junkyard and found a matching set of white mag wheel style rims. This was before strict seatbelt laws so my car was very popular with my friends when we needed to get everyone to soccer practice or elsewhere. Everyone called her Betsy. She could backfire on command if the brakes were applied in a moderately heavy fashion. Surprisingly, never had a single mechanical issue in the 3 years I owned it. We sold it to a Mexican laborer for $150.

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dajo9;842470433 said:

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I don't get the reference, but cool. The car was my Dad's before mine so maybe you are my. . . ?

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That would be scary. I think my son is on here somewhere. God, I hope its not....

Mine was a '69 Kharman Ghia with a custom made fiberglass hood, 'cuz the original would not fit after the front end damage when my sister crashed it. Had to get rid of it when the kids came along. Can't be driving them around in a death trap.

This is a photo I took of my beloved in April, 1981, when the tow truck driver dropped her corpse in the driveway of my apartment building on Bevenue:

[ATTACH=CONFIG]4431[/ATTACH]

bearister;842470557 said:

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This is a photo I took of my beloved in April, 1981, when the tow truck driver dropped her corpse in the driveway of my apartment building on Bevenue:

[ATTACH=CONFIG]4431[/ATTACH]

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That's painful! I learned to drive a stick shift on my Dad's '67 VW Fastback, as did my sister and two brothers. We each managed to wreck the clutch, but Dad became an expert at replacing them after so much practice. Great car, a little short on horsepower, but very comfortable, sharp handling, and I just like the looks of that series both the sedan and wagon.

While at Cal, I had a Toyota Tercel 4 x 4, very similar to the one pictured below.

[ATTACH=CONFIG]4432[/ATTACH]

While at the Cal Forestry Camp up in Quincy CA, I loaded her up with a few classmates and stupidly started driving towards a trail head a little too fast on dirt roads I had never traveled on. Somewhere along the way they put a hairpin turn into the dirt logging road leading to the trail head. At 35 miles an hour there was no way I was going to make the turn. We slid sideways, hit the road edge, rolled and ended up upside down. If it wasn't for the fact that my hand went out the window as the car rolled onto its lid, crushing my pinky finger, I had to smile for just a split second when I saw the very famous incline meter in that model completely upside down for the first time in the tens years that my family owned that hoopty.

[ATTACH=CONFIG]4433[/ATTACH]



Today I am working on my next hybrid-hoopty - a 2005 Prius. Piece of **** crossed over the 10 year / 100,000 mile mark and the battery died. New battery is as much as the car is worth. Hooptyville here I come.

Physics class colleague told me I could have his '74 Capri if I could drive it away. In retrospect, I think he was expecting me to give him my bicycle as a thank-you/swap.

I ran an oskimobile, which required a battery charger to top it off every night, so I carried the Capri battery to the ASUC garage, and charged it up, then drove my prize to my parents' place in the South Bay.

A harrowing ride - the suspension was shot (struts, bushings, the works), and the car would bounce uncontrollably and swerve out of lane, but I made it - no accidents, no citations.
That night I felt a burning in my crotch. Looked down, and my jeans had melted away - must've spilled battery acid down my front.

I couldn't get the doors to lock, so I asked my pal how he did it - I'd seen him locking the door when he parked. He said it was a ruse; the locks never worked, but he pantomimed to fool would-be thieves.

The car interior was shot, and I remember the spare falling out when the trunk rusted through, so I mounted the wheel on a 2x4 and suspended it across the trunk.

I rebuilt the suspension, but never did any body work, and it looked like Hell. One benefit, though: I lived on the bad side of Ashby Bart (Woolsey Street - tough neighborhood, but my half of the rent was $186/month for a two bedroom), where the locals would take their sweet time ambling/jaywalking across the street, boom box on shoulder, staring right in the driver's eyes to show who's boss. With my car's crumpled-in front end, no one ever braced me - they got out of the way.

Engine and tranny were fine, though, and my sister drove it down to Pomona Claremont in her sophomore year, and the car never came back.

I didn't need it though - I'd moved on to my next car: $300 for a faded blue 1972 Toyota Celica with a spray-painted black hood, mags, after-market Weber carb, and intermittent electrical problem. That car memorably stalled on the approach to the Bay Bridge (shut down a lane in rush hour), also on 880 near Cushing Parkway in the middle of a very dark and quiet night (eventually got it restarted), and on the exit to DeAnza Blvd in San Jose, among others.

I needed more reliable transportation (hey, I was a working man now), so I sprang $500 for a crapped-out Volkswagen Jetta with no handbrake, missing shift knob, inoperable window switches, broken odometer, and innumerable other ills. I drove it for years, and iirc it accumulated close to three hundred thousand more miles before the engine blew. By the time that happened, it was ready to collapse. I had reattached the bumper with deck screws, and the rear windows stopped closing (we found that out on the way up to ski - for the whole trip, the back seat occupants had to wear their full ski wear to avoid freezing).

I owned a parade of other embarrassments, too, because I was raised to believe that a car was about getting from a to b for the lowest cost. I remember back in the 90's my wife plaintively asked me if I'd ever own a car built in that decade. I told her, "Sure, in about 15 years". :p

I've only ever bought private-party used (hey, no payment & fully depreciated!), but one of these days I'll probably plunk down for a new car, tho' I'd rather drive a '68 Camaro z28 in sparkle blue rooling

Government issue hoopty story. In 1980, I was just starting out with the EPA, and was not only low man on the totem pole, I was the hole in the ground the totem was set in. A colleague, (who was not popular with management), and I were told to go to Arizona, in summer, to collect samples downstream from major mines to find out what nasty stuff was in the water. We left SF in a 1974 Ford van owned by EPA. First thing we found out was sound insulation was an afterthought. At freeway speeds the only way my partner and I could communicate was to TALK LIKE THIS. For some reason we were hard of hearing and hoarse by the end of the day. We next found out whenever we used the AC the van would overheat. So it was Arizona plus Third Circle of Hades summer heat plus no AC. And management wondered why on performance reviews my partner and I scored low on attitude.

We then discovered the van had the infamous Firestone 500 tires, that 6 months prior had been recalled... by the Feds for losing tread and low puncture resistance. We stopped for dinner in Kingman, Arizona, (while first backing up against a wall to hide the Fed license plate, this was when only the rear plate was required, and a good thing because we were entering territory where a Fed vehicle meant target practice for the locals). Anyway, I noticed one of the tires looked like a very large creature had bitten a big chunk out of it. We replaced it with the spare, and went on our business.

Several days later, we had collected our samples, and were on our way home. Outside Las Vegas, I was at the wheel and nearly lost control. I pulled over to the side of the road, and notice the left rear tire was throwing its tread. It looked like the tread was peeling away. So I nursed the van, slowly, back to an all night gas station we had seen earlier. On the off ramp, I nearly lost control again but coasted to a stop off the road. The bad tire still had air. The one opposite had picked up a long bolt that punctured the tire and dented the rim. So we decided to replace it with the tire missing a chunk of rubber but still inflated, then ease the van to the gas station. My partner started jacking the van up, then began cussing worse than sailor. The jack handle had broken in half. Meanwhile I had set the parking brake. The handle promptly broke off in my hand.

So we set out on foot to the gas station. On the way we saw a cat standing inside a wire fence, meowing loudly. I then spotted a kitten in the middle of the off ramp. Despite oncoming traffic, I ran out, scooped the kitten up and set it down next to the other one, who I'm sure was its mother. They then skedaddled off. (Insert "Awwww").

Anyway, the gas station had a jack we could use, though it took both of us to drag it as it must have been designed for a Patton tank. We swapped the bad tire with the chewed up spare, and got the van to the gas station. They fortunately had a set of four top of the line tires that would fit the van. By this time it was close to 2 AM, so we told them go for it. Even in Nevada a pair of bedraggled Feds could get sympathy.

When we finally got back to SF, our supervisor was appalled at the expense account including the expensive tires. I whipped out the recall notice for the tires the van had in the first place and told him it wouldn't be wise to make a stink of it. Our expense accounts were approved.

likwid1;842470412 said:

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Hooptie, bucket, etc.

My hooptie rollin', tailpipe draggin'
Heat don't work an' my girl keeps naggin'
Six-nine Buick, deuce keeps rollin'
One hubcap 'cause three got stolen
Bumper shook loose, chrome keeps scrapin'
Mis-matched tires, and my white walls flakin'
Hit mickey-d's, Maharaji starts to bug
He ate a quarter-pounder, threw the pickles on my rug
Runnin', movin', tags expired
Girlies tryin' to dis 'n say my car looks tired
Hit my brakes, out slid skittles
Tinted back window with a bubble in the middle
Who's car is it? Posse won't say
We all play it off when you look our way
Rollin' four deep, tires smoke up the block
Gotta roll this bucket, 'cause my Benz is in the shop

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Not as good as Jan & Dean's Schlock Rod but I guess it will do.

When my girlfriend and I broke up in 1980, we had 2 cars: a 1968 VW Beetle, which was awesome; and a 70-ish Opal Kadett that was a gift to her from her father. She took the bug and dumped the Opal on me. As revenge, as far as I can tell.

It was hand-painted a putrid shade of pinkish purple. The trunk had a dent that kept it from closing properly, so it sucked tailpipe emissions (of which there were many) into the interior, so I had to drive with the windows open at all times. The hood release knob was broken, so I had to keep a pair of pliers handy to yank on the cable. And it stalled. Often. Usually in the middle of intersections.

It was the happiest day of my life when I bought a brand-new Toyota Celica ST, and a junkyard gave me $50 and hauled that POS Opal away.