When I was a teenager in the 60's, my dad bought an old car and this thing was such a rust bucket, as parts fell off, he'd replace them but they never matched. The hood was bright red, the fenders were different colors and so was the trunk. School busses didn't run where we lived, so my dad insisted on driving me to school. My maiden name is Rhome, so, of course, the kids made fun of that car and would yell "Here she comes in the Roman chariot!" They got a good laugh until the temperature dropped below zero and the snow came down and their parents didn't drive them to school. My dad offered them a ride w/me and that put an end to the snickers. To my face anyhow.