What's the worst car you've ever owned?
Bought a VW Bug once, when I came back from an extended OS trip and desperately needed wheels. Friend of a friend was getting rid of a car, and she was really cute too. Sealed the deal over a drunken night out on the town.
The car was a piece of shit.
Ended up spending four times the purchase price in engine repairs. Wouldn't make it up Willunga Hill, and it didn't have a stereo. A complete and utter waste of time.
1980 Toyota Corona.
Bought it off a gorgeous chick I was trying to tune and stupidly paid her asking price. Didn't even come close to getting in her pants.
Did a heap of trips in it and it went ok at first but all the electrics gradually shat themselves and in the end I had to flick the lights on to pretend I had brake lights, because the brake light fuses kept blowing.
It was an auto and kept conking out when idling in drive, so as I pulled up to a stop, had to brake with my left foot, whack it in neutral and keep the revs up with my right foot and switch on the lights to pretend I had brake lights. That was in addition to the massive rust holes along the door sills which I gaffer taped up and the numerous gear box and oil leaks. It always had new oil though because I kept 4 litres in the boot and had to top it up every few days.
In the end, took it to our family mechanic who rang my mum and told her I was lucky to even make it there and mum was pretty pissed off. Wouldn't let me drive it home. Within a week mum and dad had bought me a nice straight XE Fairmont that got me through my uni years no trouble and then I bequeathed that to my little bro which he writes about in Wellys thread. That thing died a noble death too.
Forgot to mention that when I bought it the tape player was stuffed and couldn't eject her tape- So to make things worse I only had the radio and 'Best of the Pet Shop Boys' for sounds.
zenagain wrote:I had to flick the lights on to pretend I had brake lights, because the brake light fuses kept blowing.
Haha, wow, now that is dedication to the cause of not getting it fixed. Never heard of anyone doing that, classic!!
Oh shit, I was only halfway through your post when I quoted you Zen, that next paragraph is even funnier, actually laughing behind the computer here!
Thanks Craig. It truly was a piece of crap.
Also, in the end I had to leave the rear seat-back unbolted so I could get into the boot.
Can't believe I travelled up and down the east coast in it. Luckily it was such an innocuous little thing that it escaped the attention of the cops.
Funny as Stu, was it your first big outlay for a car rather than the $2 Hundgie to the grand mark....?
Good old "fishoes" they love to tell a good story as well rescue people's cars that aren't up scratch on the sand. As with air bags, you probably never hit the pole fast enough :) But I'm sure you woke up straight away.
I got a story with my worst chariot regarding air bags and the power pole, I will be patient, until I figure out how to post a photo visually on the thread, like your full mooner's at pigeon house Mtn..?
Yep, first proper grown up car. Funnily enough it was my last one too. The power pole ended up halfway through the engine bay, stopped only by the axle. This wasn't a carpark bump we're talking about.
First and worst car was a tiny 2 stroke bongo van.
Bought for $300 or $400 off some dodgie fruiterer at tea tree gully. Peaked it out at 60kmh if I got a good run of lights on way home (down hill the whole way).
Rang the other two members of TSM (The Seedy Maggots), loaded em up and went down the bay, beeping the horn and screaming 'BONGOO!', and abusing people we thought deserved it, which was everyone. Pretty stupid as you could have easily caught it on foot.
Off we went home pretty stoked we ourselves... RIINNNNGGGdingdingdingdingding.
Got up for TAFE the next day & it wouldn't go, pushed it about 1 1/2 km in the rain to the mechanics by myself, like I said it was tiny, and he told me it was fucked and there was no way it was worth trying to fix. Pushed it home in the rain & started ringing wreckers to come get it. No one wanted to know me and where going to charge me heaps.
Got onto one guy who came out, took one look at it and said ' ar one of them, I wouldn't have come out if I knew it was one of them' he was going to leave without it, but I pleaded with him to take it, and he did.
Short was my connection with Bongo.
Ha, my first car was a bongo van, 1000cc, 4 cyl, did the job, yes it broke down a bit but I think that was more of my making , the way I drove it. Sat on 80 k's ok and cost $4 to fill. It had a hard life with me as it carried six of us around the ocean road, passed 14 cars in one go once just out of Lorne, did 80,000 k's in 18months, so we had a few adventures in it, my apologies to the bloke I sold it to as I turned back the clock 40,000.
My worst car was a kombi, had it for a few years, piece of shit and could not handle having other kombi drivers waving to me, cause we are soo special.
The cars I've owned have generally been pretty reasonable, but my parents had some real choice CRAP.
Anything French is shit. The worst would have to have been my old man's Citroen from about 10 years ago. Handled worse than a boat, had a thirst that was worse than a sailor's after a year at sea, and looked like a piece of shit.
A Datsun 1200 I had, came well above the shit my parents had, even if it did end up at the Upper Sturt wreckers after thrashing the guts out of it.
ben-colyer wrote:The worst would have to have been my old man's Citroen from about 10 years ago..
Even though I've never owned one I've always had a thing for Citroen's. Not 'cos they're French, and not 'cos they're good looking cars (ha!), but because I was once told that if a Citroen loses a wheel it can drive on with three wheels. For some reason that appealed to me. Never had a chance to test it though.
1980 Toyota Corona.
Bought it off a gorgeous chick I was trying to tune and stupidly paid her asking price. Didn't even come close to.........When I seen your post on the home page Zen, I was thinking, oh yeah his old chariot "didn't even come close to",,,,,,, doing 80km/hr, or something similar. When the pants thing came up, had a good laugh as that was quite a thing in the 80's, my mid teen error, haven't heard that for years.
So that was I think 106 letters, 22 spaces about 3 full stops and an aphostrophy. I'm probably way out, what is the cut of line, which keeps us in suspense when first reading the home page, anyone? Might have to keep that in mind next time.
Your driving days with the toymotor Carona using both feet as a skill, should of earned you a position straight into the helicopter industry or flying spitfires at the War Birds show....
My first and worst car was an infamous Sunbird Torana, (under)powered by the Starfire four, aptly renamed Backfire four. "Antelope" in color, it did have pump up rear shockers to give it that "street machine" look....had some adventures in it, got me to Darwin and back to Vicco in '84, with a long stretch of that on only one engine mount.
But after all that good stuff why is it my worst car? as a young p plater I was unable to impress the young ladies of my home town performing hand brakeys as the stupid car had one of those hand brakes that you pushed down with your foot, next to the clutch, and to release the hand brake there was a knob on the dash you had to pull. So uncool, and completely useless for getting it sideways.
Well that didn't work did it,
The little grey box for a quote thingey, where did he go...?
As you can read Zen my literature skills are zilch, I've probably only read 5 novels in 30 years, failed English badly, Only just purchased a computer a year ago and still having trouble changing the gears and driving on the right side, couldn't even change the flat tyre from above, with quoting something..
Not gonna edit "aphostrophy" either, looks and sounds like the new computer chip for the twin exhausts sticking out the rear.
My worst was a VC V8 Valiant Regal. I had an awesome break when a couple of hippies wanted my 1963 Kombi Camper, 'to go around Australia', and actually straight swapped their Datsun 1600 for it. It was a prayer answered. The Datsun was in great nick, and shat all over the Kombi re getting to the surf. One day I was heading down south, and just coming into the Sellicks straight, when a hotted up red V8 Falcon panelvan pulled along side, waved and took off. They quickly slowed way down though, about 30mph, and when I pulled out to overtake, they just accelerated enough, so that I couldn't pass them. All sorts of games like that went on for ages, and my Datsun was helpless, getting hammered. They were pissing themselves, and all my spewing could do nothing.
The next week at work, a rev head needed money, and was selling his pride and joy, hotted up Valiant. It had the works done to it mechanically, plus flared guards big fat chrome steel mags, and was in showroom condition. I cracked and traded the Datsun plus heaps of cash. It was like entering a whole new world. The thing was the awesome surf trip beast, 4 guys, boards, camping gear could sit on the ton all day. In town it was horrific. Because of all the stuff done, it idled horrendously, worse when cold, and was useless trying to drive normally, would stall all the time, but all you had to do was stomp your foot to fix that. Plus I constantly had to go to this dyno tune guy at Edwardstown to keep the thing running. It was horrific watching and listening to them chain it to the rollers and just flatten it for ages. He used to love it. ' There ya go, all done, she's got a good, crisp bark again.' But, the thing flew, XU1's no problems, I used to love lining up rev heads, and stomping em, with my board on the roof. 'Fuck'n coral cruncher!' To cut a longer story short, the thing was an irresistable nightmare, and I lost my licence 'at the government's pleasure'. It took me about two years of grovelling letters and snivelling, academy award winning court appearances to get it back.
My worst time was when I got VD from 8 (or was it 10?) valiant rogues. I'd had an awesome break when a couple of hippies wanted me in their 1963 Kombi Camper, 'to go around Australia and end up in Tassie' and actually straight swapped their son for me. It was a prayer answered. They was in great nick, and shat all over ... well, let's not go there .
One day I was heading down south (if you get my drift) and just coming into the Sellicks straight (ditto), when a hotted up red, er, pulled along side - well let's not go THERE either. They quickly slowed way down though, and pulled out ... well, let's just say that I couldn't pass them up. All sorts of games like that went on for ages, and I was helpless, getting hammered.
The next week at work, another rent boy needed money, and was selling his pride and joy. It had the works done to it - flared, big, fat, chrome, steel, and was in showroom condition. I cracked and paid him heaps of cash.
It was like entering a whole new world. The thing was the awesome beast. In town it was horrific. Because of all the stuff done, it itched horrendously, worse when cold, but all you had to do was stomp your foot to fix that. Plus I constantly had to go to this guy at Edwardstown to keep the thing from dripping. It was horrific watching him chain it to the rollers and just flatten it. He used to love it.
My thing was irresistable, but I lost my licence to thrill 'at the government's pleasure'. It took me about two years of grovelling and snivelling, and academy award winning stick movie appearances to get it cut short.
Zen's Toyota Corona probably gave him (and me) the scariest moment of our lives and he wasn't even behind the wheel. I remember him taking his little bro out for a driving (steering) lesson, and as one does when learning, having poor speed judgement, attempted to take an inside corner at 40km/hr on quite a busy road near home. Luckily there happened to be an unusual lack of cars on the other side of the road at that precise moment when I needed to borrow an extra lane or we may not have been around today to post such memories. Still spins me out a bit when I think about it.
As for worst car owned, a mustard colour series 2 landrover that leaked like a bastard every time it rained (my early cars seemed to follow a pattern of not being water tight). I owned it for all of 6 months before trading in on a brand new always dry 2000 Holden Astra hatchback.
Gates, I always have to remember not to have a mouthful of coffee when reading your posts. I made that mistake once and sprayed coffee out of my nose laughing so hard.
Welly, don't worry about your literary skills mate. I'm in the communication business and trust me, you communicate just fine. It's wombats that pull other people up for spelling or grammatical errors and make the same mistakes themselves. Besides, these forums are hardly the place for our magnum opus.
And Jezza, 3:50 is the handbrake part. You can see how chicks dig a well executed handbrakey.
Hash, I still remember that turn! That was a sphincter tightener that one for sure.
Well, we're both still here gladly.
And yes, that Defender was a piece of crap if ever there was one. The Astra was a great car. Loved how the stereo automatically adjusted the volume to the speed you were going. A great feature to have especially in start stop traffic.
I can't believe the missus talked me into swapping the Astra for her fathers 96 Toyota Hilux 4x2 Twin Cab ute. Loved that Astra. Mind you, the ute has vinyl floors so you can put sand and all sorts of shit on the floor and not have to worry about getting it out of carpet.
Worst car was for me a VY Commodore Equipe 2003 station wagon, similar to Stu's response of stepping up and getting my "first proper grown up car" which also loved the power pole.
$27,000 with a $110 weekly payment for 5 years, which I could afford well so to speak.
Six weeks later driving back from the pub after a couple of schooner's, some fuck head was driving right up my arse in a 70 km/hr zone on a winding country road. So I flawed it, whilst changing the CD came round a corner and was blinded by an oncoming car, turned to the left too far and I hit the kerb blowing out the left hand front tyre. I suppose I was doing 120 km/hr at the time which spun the whole chariot backwards across the other side of the road and hit the only power pole within a 100m, flipped upside down and ended up on its roof down a 15 ft bank.
It happened in the blink of an eye, I honestly didn't know if I had hit someone else or what had happened.
It was dark as and could not see until a fire started up which gave me incentive to hurry up.
I managed to crawl out the back window, lucky I was not stuck and could not escape, to my horror my little jack russell "Billy Boy" was nowhere to be seen and I was not in a good predicament.
I managed to pull my surf board out and left that in the bushes, trying to put the fire out with the shirt off my back which didn't help, only to hear someone yell "get out there mate, leave it alone". I kind of realised what the bloke was on about so I jumped up the bank only to be confronted with live power lines 4 inches from my face. In about 10 seconds from getting up the bank the whole car blew up into 60 ft flames, I didn't even give about the car I was so bummed at loosing my dog.
Cut along story short, I did the runner in my bare feet and shorts, adrenalin pumping, sobbing from loosing my dog and hurting like I just played 2 games of rugby at once. Ran home 8 km's through the farmers paddocks playing Rambo hiding from all the other cars driving to the scene of the accident.
Got home and laid down thinking of a scenario, that someone stole my car from the pub only to hear a bang on the door, with the police tracking dog trying to scratch the door down. Busted.
I admitted to it, saying I had lost my dog was in shock and came home and started drinking, just after that a new law arose about leaving the scene of an accident. Whew!
Two years of insurance investigations etc which I had full cover, blah blah insurance companies, I ended up having to pay $27,000 for the car and $13,000 for the power pole.
I was alive :) found my "Billy Boy" hours later when I got out of the cop shop, he must of got punched out of the back window and was unconscious only to wake when the fire brigade had to put the fire out, he was soaking wet.
Found out 3 weeks later at the "Wallaby Pub" having a beer some old dude and his mates were complaining about not seeing the last half of rugby league game between QLD and NSW finals because of some fuckwit had knocked down a power pole, shorting out 15,000 homes in the area. I never gave my identity away only to scarper away and have a chuckle to myself, if only they knew I would probably never to be allowed back in there again.........?
Remnants.
http://s1365.photobucket.com/user/wellymon/library/Worst%20Car?sort=3&pa...
Anyone one I know that has bought a Jeep has said it is a lemon, or has proven itself through extraordinary mech bills or complete failure.
I loved my Landrover but hard to get parts.
I loved the HD panel van but the cops loved it more............
Nissan Patrol 3ltr diesels are great if the engine handles..................still looking.
Jeez Welly, what a story!
Well well,good story man and a few lessons learnt there we hope,first one is dont buy a dunnydoor.Glad you and your dog got out o.k.I hate cunts driving up my arse too.
Simba, spot on mate commodore's are dunny doors :)
4 cyl torana with that german opel motor. 1st ever car - nightmare....
Haha Here ya go, Was chatting to my next door neighbour up in the hills here about cars.....
He was born and bred in the valley, west of Sydney, Milperra massacre ways and was actually in the pub when that shit went down.
Anyways he was telling me the worst car he had was a Mini Club Van, him and his mates went to rob the local bank.....? They pulled up outside the bank on the main street, donned on the black balaclavas , loaded pistols in hand. On the count of three they were off, got to two and the car conked out....?
No petrol, forgot to even look at the petrol gauge !
Young , Dumb and full of.............
In response to Welly's thread about best cars, what's the worst chariot you've ever had the misfortune of owning?
Mine was a Jeep Grand Cherokee 4WD that I bought in a moment of stupidity. Fuck knows what I was thinking? That I was gonna be a man about town in this bottle green, jumped up fourby?
Not only did it not suit my persona (don't laugh people, the car must matcheth the man) but everything that could go wrong with it did. One north coast trip sums it up. Was whipping around a single trail near Yagen, when before I knew it I'd descended the dune and was down on Yagen Beach. The surf was crap so I did a U-turn and tried to get back up the dune but the little cheese cutter tyres wouldn't cut it despite the supposed 4WD. Try as I might I couldn't even get halfway back up.
I was stuck at the base of the dune for about an hour, weighing up my very limited options when two Nissan Patrols came up the beach. Out jumped eight fishoes who immediately proceeded to give me shit about getting bogged and shit about my car. "Bet you don't get bogged in Mosman...haw haw haw."
I couldn't say a fucking thing because while they were giving me shit they were also rigging up a tow rope to haul me up the dune. Which they did, and then hopped back in their Patrol's to much laughter at my expense. Thanks fellas...
From Yagen I drove to Treachery where I went for a surf - but not before locking my keys in the car. Never mind, the surf was pumpng, I'd deal with it later.
Two hours later, tired and with the sun setting, I went in and tried to break into my car. Damn thing was rock solid, I was gonna need help. The car was parked just inside the gate at Treach so I walked toward a campfire to see if anyone could help. Rounded a corner and there was two Nissan Patrols and eight fishoes. Fuck...
Again they put shit on me, and again I had to take it, and again they saved me. One fella had an inflatable cushion, like an industrial strength whoopee cushion, that slipped between the door and parted it from the frame when inflated. They invited me in for a beer but the idea of sitting there while they mecilessly roasted me was too much. I took off to Forster with my tail between my legs.
Two months later I fell asleep behind the wheel and crashed it into a pole near Cronulla Leagues Club. It wasn't just a Jeep Cherokee - it was a Grand Jeep Cherokee, with all the bells and whistles. "It's got three air bags for safety," the salesman said when I bought it. Not one of the bastards inflated.