The Monza
The same year I was born, my father bought a 1975 Chevy Monza. My mother was convinced we couldn't afford it, and certainly it wasn't the typical "family car", but my dad always had a soft spot for classic seventies cars. It was a two door, and barely enough room in the back seat for a car seat, but he managed to make it work.
Over the years, that poor car saw a lot of wear and tear; from trips from Michigan to Chicago, from Chicago to California, then from California back to Michigan, my father put some serious mileage on that car.
"That's classic cars for ya. It takes a lickin and keeps on tickin'" he'd tell my mother, who finally came around to his way of thinking after they survived in a snow storm on their way back from a trip to visit my grandparents in Illinois.