A white '66 Chevrolet Caprice coupe with a black vinyl roof, buckets, "woodgrain" console with "T" type gear selector mounted in it, gauges below the radio and the Chevy 327. I kept a special commercial acrylic floor finish with a metalic interlock (according to my father) on the roof and it gleamed just as black and even more shiny on the day I got rid of her than when new. The car introduced that beautiful roof line with the squared-off rear side windows. I remember when I put new tires on her with the red stripe facing out about 1970. Every fall I would have to take her in to the garage and leave her overnight so that they could reset the choke for cold weather while she was cold. I really appreciated the beauty of Constance Caprice because while she was being driven around by the dealer's wife so she would be sold as a demo, I had a red, 4 door '62 Corvair that was a bomb. She was never named, but was usually referred to as "that damn car."
It is amazing how much cars have improved. My 78 Monte Carlo, known as Grace as in Princess Grace, was so much better than the 72 Plymouth Grand Fury coupe which should have been badged Grand Mal as in the seizure. Her name was Golda because she was a sick old woman. My precious 86 Celica lift back whose given name was La Stella Azzurra, but was known affectionately as Baby Blue, was much better than Grace, 14 years and 160K miles of service instead of 8, and the 2000 Solara is much better than the Celica, but not more loved.