My first car was an old Ford Classic, which was a surprise 21st birthday present. But, as surprises go, this car was full of them.... not in a good way.
My father - who hated Ford cars with a vengeance, denouncing them at any and every opportunity.... evidently felt that whilst he personally, wouldn't touch one with a barge-pole, it would be okay to get one for his daughter.
He had purchased the vehicle without discussing it with either my mum or myself, and knowing that it already had several mechanical faults. But, he also thought himself to be very talented as an amateur mechanic... although this was not his actual job.
So, before I could drive it further than for a quick circuit of the block.... he had removed most of the engine, which sat in bits on a bench in his shed for a few weeks!
He didn't believe in using anything so "unnecessary" as torque-spanners or manuals of any kind and, he always "knew best" about things... So, my soon-to-be hubby and I could only look-on in trepidation, as he announced that he would need to "take up some of the slack" in the big-end... for all to be well!
It wasn't!
The engine was put back together, with no bits left-over, so far as I know... but ever afterwards, the darned car had a strong aversion to being started. I would be the last to leave the car-park at work, as I attempted to coax the engine into life. Male colleagues would kindly try to help, but always ended-up shaking their heads sadly, lol. Or worse, it would stall whenever the brakes were applied, so that one would be stuck at traffic lights, unless one kept up a gentle "blipping" of the accelerator (making me sound like some kind of impatient girl racer!) Nightmare!
After a few months of this, a mechanic friend of my new hubby took a sneaky look for us, shook his head and announced that the car's problems were terminal. So, making excuses (to father) about being newlyweds and therefore not able to afford to run two cars, we did indeed get rid.