Right before my junior year, a woman in our ward called me up and said that she was getting a new car and wondered if I wanted her old Rabbit, free of charge. Heck yes! So began the Stella Saga. I got sweet seat covers for her for my birthday and named her Stella, which I thought was an appropriate name given her awesomeness. She served me well for the rest of my high school years, and just last weekend we sold her.
Stella also was the car on which I learned how to drive a stick: a miserable experience, but if I can drive Stella, I can drive any car on the face of the planet.
Stella had several idiosyncrasies: the heat would never go completely off and would only come up out of the defrost vents; there was a weird whistling sound connected to the speakers, and when I'd accelerate, the whistling would get more high-pitched; no A/C; a manual convertible; you couldn't shift directly into first gear, but had to rather go into second and wiggle your way into first; the gas gauge didn't work, so everytime I went to the gas station, I had to fill up completely and rely on the odometer to know how much gas I had left; when it rained, Stella let some of the rain into the car, gracing you with a nice, sloshy puddle on the passenger's side; when the car was idle, the battery would sometimes threaten to die, so I had to rev the engine to get the battery back up, and people would think I was trying to be cool when really I was trying to keep my car alive.
If she would have made it over the mountains, I totally would have taken her to school with me. Alas, she had to stay in our driveway when I left, and when I came back for the summer last year, she didn't work. We managed to get her up and running for about a month, and then a cocky missionary said he could fix her and he killed her. She hasn't moved since.
Today, Emily saw her on the side of the road with a "For Sale" sign in her window. Who knows what her future holds now . . .