Great minds must think alike. Earlier today I had been thinking about writing a “Cars I Have Owned” post. Imagine my surprise when I ran across CB’s latest!

My first car was a used truck; a 1976 Chevy LUV to be precise. I don’t remember if I ever named it. My mom had the interior reupholstered for my birthday the year after I got it. Twelve months later, after I’d moved out of my folks’ house, it was parked outside my apartment with the windows rolled down one evening and a cat jumped in and sprayed all over the seat. I never did get the smell out.

Dorothy, a 1984 Toyota Corolla SR5, was my first new car, and the one that still shows up most often in my dreams. By far it was one of the best running and most reliable vehicles I’ve owned. It moved to San Francisco with me and I reluctantly sold it in 1989—shortly before the Loma Prieta earthquake—stupidly thinking that I could get around San Francisco without a car.

Jezebel, the car from hell, was a 1990 Mitsubishi Cordia Turbo I bought from a friend. Lesson learned: never buy cars from friends. Corollary lesson: never buy turbos. ‘Nuff said.

Baraka, a.k.a. “Red,” was a 1995 Mitsubishi Eclipse; it was the second car I bought new. It wasn’t the exact model I’d wanted (it was a RS; I really preferred the GS but couldn’t afford it), so we never really bonded completely, but without a doubt, this car had the best damn gas mileage of any car I’ve owned evah. I could drive from San Francisco to San Diego (540 miles) on a single tank of gas. After about 80,000 miles I was able to ignore the small things falling apart, but when the poor thing started having major transmission trouble, I knew it was time to say goodbye.

Skittles was a brand new 2001 Volkswagen Beetle. I’d been jonesing for a New Beetle even before Red started falling apart, but couldn’t justify getting one. The Beetle was the first, and—as the Flying Spaghetti Monster is my witness—the last car I will ever own with an automatic transmission. A few minor problems with the cooling system at about 70,000 miles, replacing the battery twice and having to slap on a new set of tires was about the extent of problems/repairs. All in all, a very well made car and fun to drive, but ultimately it was too gay. Even for me.

And of course, now there’s Anderson—the sexy 2006 MINI Cooper I bought last March. The honeymoon still hasn’t ended…