Me and my beautiful 1968 Mercury Cyclone back in high school:
I like cars, much in the same way as I like bicycles. They are so much more than just an assembly of parts. They develop personality. I never owned a really nice car (or bike) but this hasn’t discouraged me in the least, my cars have a certain charm and I don’t care if it is undetectable to anyone else. Selling them always feels like breaking up with a girlfriend, a girl whom you didn’t love but one you cared for deeply and the thought of them being with someone else hurts just a little.
The possible exception was my last truck, a 2002 Chevy Tracker. We never developed a strong relationship. On paper it was a good truck: inexpensive, went through snow great, and I could fit both of my bikes in back. But it had no charm: it was noisy, handled like a box of rocks, and it was so ugly I felt like a dork driving it. I treated it as well as any other vehicle I owned, changing the oil myself because they don’t fill up the filter with oil before installing it at those quick lube places and I respect my cars more than that. How did my Tracker thank me? The bitch spun a bearing and left me stranded. I sold it last weekend. Selling it felt like a divorce. Have a nice life and don’t let the door hit you on your way out. No, really, I’m not bitter.
I just got a Chevy Equinox. It's not exactly charming but it is reliable, and maybe that's more important.