Well, if my father were still around, I know what he'd say: the 1977 Chrysler Cordoba.
He bought one because he needed another car after I had gone off to college and my mom had to get a job.
He just liked the look of it, and might have been influenced by Ricardo Montalban's commercials touting its "fine Corinthian leather" seats and its other purported virtues.
Well... the seats may have been nice, but the mechanical parts of the vehicle rapidly began to deteriorate. First, it was a water pump. And then a leaky head gasket. An oil pump. The alternator. Another water pump. Then, something with the suspension.
On and on it went... five or so years of misery and repair bills and hollered curses coming from the garage of our little house, until the old man would take no more of having been made a fool.
At that point, the brake pads and rotors were shot and the damned thing would only stop with loud screeching from the undercarriage. He sold it to a dealer for a song and got another (better, not-a-Chrysler) automobile.
But before he left the dealership, he popped open the hood of the miserable old wreck, reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a large wire cutter.
Yanking on the still classy, brass Cordoba hood ornament, he proceeded to snap the wire cable and quickly pocketed the proud little ornament.
When we got back home, he went down to his workshop and pulled out a small marble stand that he had purchased for the occasion.
My dad then proceeded to place some epoxy on the ornament's base and affixed it - for all time - to the marble display stand.
He then purposefully pulled out his Dymo label maker and typed out several letters to create a tag for the new display he had created, and pulling the plastic tape off of the adhesive side of the label, put the label on it and stood it up on the shelf in front of him.
The label bore but a single word: SCHMUCK.
A reminder, made in his characteristically unsubtle manner, to never, ever buy a Chrysler product again.
And he never did.
To this day, in my own garage, I keep his little ornament sitting on a shelf near me, as a tribute to both my Dad's memory, and to his hard-earned wisdom.