*inspired by Uppercase Woman, who has a much better First Car Story on her blog today*
When I was 16 I inherited the brown Toyota Camry that had been used by both my sisters before me (I think. They may argue with this and I have a faint memory that they may have actually driven something that predated the Camry). I didn't care that it was just about the least attractive shade of brown imaginable, or that the front driver's side window only rolled up 3/4 of the way. I didn't even care that after a year of driving it I somehow managed to kill the radio. Oh no, I just velcroed a bike radio to the front dash. A stroke of brilliance! Even though the velcro wasn't strong enough to keep the radio in place when I took a sharp corner. That sucker would go flying and I often had to yell DUCK! to keep my unsuspecting passenger from getting a face full of bike radio. None of that mattered because I was 16 and that brown Camry meant no more school buses, no more NPR on the preset radio stations (when they still functioned), off campus lunches. All the things that mean freedom when you are a Junior in high school and don't have a particularly active wild streak.
I loved that car. If for nothing else but for the fact that it made my second car (a modest blue Saturn), look like luxury on wheels.