I loved this car. I even entered it in car shows. I'm still sad I sold it, although now in my old age I'm not sure if I could even get in and out of it. It was so much fun to drive, and it never let me down.
One interesting thing about this car, though, is I got hit by it.
Yes, I said "hit," as in 'it ran into me.'
Here's how it happened:
I was over at my boyfriend's (at the time, of course) house and he was getting ready to go to work. It was winter--very cold and there was about a foot of snow on the ground. He went out to start up his car and a few minutes later he came back in, cursing up a storm and asked me where my car keys were.
I gave him my keys and asked what was wrong. His car battery was dead, so he needed mine to jump-start it.
I waited a few seconds and decided to go on out and see if there was any way I could help. When I walked outside, I saw he had already pulled my car up next to his and had the hood popped. I assumed the car was shut off--the car door was open and I didn't hear it running.
At the moment I walked in between the two cars, his foot slipped off the clutch and my car lurched forward, pinning my knee between the front bumper of my car and the fender of his car.
Pain blinded me. I remember him jumping out and trying to help me to my feet, but I couldn't stand on it. He kept saying he was sorry over and over, but all I could hear was the pounding of the pain. It was bad. It was pretty bad.
He helped me inside and I can't really remember what happened after that, except I refused to go to the hospital and it was a good couple of days until I could walk on it. I know it was an accident--his boot was wet from the snow and his foot just slipped and I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was a painful accident, but the good news is I'm ok now.
And that folks, is the story of how I got hit by my own car.