Was the Pacer the car that looked like an egg? Someone at my high school had a yellow car, and I think it was a Pacer. We used to call it "the egg".

Yeah. Like a boiled egg, without the shell, being subject to higher-than-normal gravity.

With wheels.

eta: [link]

Theodosia, I'm so sorry about your car. What a sucky thing to wake up to.

Happy birthday, Lyra Jane!

My parents had a Pinto at one point. My first car was a Pontiac T-1000, which was basically a Chevette but not. Ran it into the ground. I loved that car. We still had it when Jake was born, although not long after that.

I always wanted a Gremlin. Such a cute little ugly car.

I had a Renault Alliance (which is French for "piece of shit") whose engine caught fire while I was driving alone, on the highway, at 1 a.m.

My dad was in one that flipped off the Grapevine (? twisty road) in California. On the first bounce, the engine mounts snapped , the engine popped out and the shell came to a rest as the engine merrily tumbled away. Probably prevented them from getting smooshed. He was very appreciative that the crappitude of the Renaults at that moment.

I still want a 1960 Volvo. So cute.

Very happy birthday wishes for Lyra Jane!

My first car was a used Volkswagen Squareback. It didn't live very long, but it had that distinctive VW smell and I did learn how to drive on a stick.

Happy birthday, Lyra !

I still want a 1960 Volvo. So cute.

No car is cuter than a Nash Metropolitan

No car is cuter than a Nash Metropolitan

So true.

Although a Citroen 2CV comes close: [link]

Happy Birthday, Lyra!

Theodosia, I'm sorry your car. May the thieves break out in boils.

My first car was a 1968 Ford Galaxie 500. It was black with a red interior. I called it the Hearse.

There's a black-and-white Nash Metropolitan for sale on a front yard on my street. Every time I pass it, I think, "Oh, cute."

There's a black-and-white Nash Metropolitan for sale on a front yard on my street. Every time I pass it, I think, "Oh, cute."

There's a red convertible MG for sale in our nabe. Z has taken to dragging me past it, as I will invariably stop to drool.