Joe.My.God asked readers to describe their first car today. I inherited a 1969 Plymouth Fury II convertible - bright yellow with a white retractable ragtop. Naturally it was dubbed "The Big Banana" by my friends. Truly a land yacht, probably longer than today's super-huge SUVs.

The lock on the trunk was busted (you had to jimmy it open with a screwdriver) and the roof leaked - not a pleasant experience in Florida's notorious late-afternoon downpours. The leak was so bad that the floor in the backseat would fill up with water like a swimming pool - the floor eventually rusted away and a hole opened up to the roadway below. But worst of all were the brakes, which failed often...once while driving six fellow students home from high school (we stopped when we hit a small log on the side of the road), and once while traveling on the downslope of a toll bridge, sending me careening through the toll booth area at 45 mph. Sold it (!) after the fan blades came flying off under the hood. Ahh, good times.