Back in the late '70s friend of mine was told he could have a '61 Rambler if he could get it off of his friend's driveway. The driveshaft had fallen off, but it had a recently rebuilt engine. We hit a wrecking yard that specialized in AMC and got a replacement driveshaft, pulled it apart at the U-joint even though that wasn't advised, and installed it. That little boxy car with faded, chalky powder green paint and vacuum wipers took us all over the place from Santa Cruz to Sebastopol, even if it did stink like mildew from sitting so long before we resurrected it.
My first car was a '64 Galaxie 4-door sedan. It was a stripped down model but did have the 289 V-8 and automatic transmission, which may have been standard for Galaxies. Dark green with beige interior, bench seat, and hubcaps instead of wheelcovers. Only had 53K miles on it when I bought it in 1973 for $995. Ran like a dream and the temperature gauge never even got close to the middle when four of us took it down to Mazatlan during a major heat wave through the Sonoran Desert, clocking at up to 90 MPH on empty and seemingly endless two-lane highways. All I ever did was put gas in it, some irregular maintenance, bought it a set of tires and a new battery. I replaced it with a '65 Mustang (also a 289) in 1978, which is still the favorite of any car I've owned. I swear, that car seemed to gain speed when going uphill.