A 1993 Ford Sierra my wife bought from a friend when she left the UK.
I warned her!
The littany of what was wrong with it was endless.
Highlights include:
Broken clutch cable at Marble Arch at 3 AM on way home from party. We had to shlep it to the Grosvenor Hotel to phone the RAC (odd how many statuesque young women seem to come and go at that time of day).
Alas it was a moving-in party and we are both dirty and smelly from moving furniture all day.
Slendid!
Same clutch cable. Middle of the M25. This time in the pouring rain on the way to observe the '99 solar eclipse.
Broken timing belt in middle of nowhere. Walked 11 miles to nearest phone. Again, in the rain.
Clutch again. Rush hour traffic in Trafalgar Square is thrilled. Also police.
Brakes fail (cylinder falls off) near Harrod's. Fortunately it is again the early morning and no-one sees me as I sail through 2 red lights. Somewhat miraculously, it is
not raining.
Muffler falls off just a we head-off to a friend's wedding. 100 miles away!
RAC finally says "enough" and refuses to cover us after this.
First (and only) MoT:
Frame is rusted through in several spots
Petrol tank unsafe
Brakes unsafe
Electrics dodgy
etc.
etc.
Cost us more to fix it than to buy it.
Eventually we began leaving the doors open and the keys on the seat hoping someone would steal it.
After 3 weeks - NO TAKERS!! And this is just uphill from a council estate!
Finally the police called early one morning asking if I had used the car to rob a petrol station (???). Errr.... no.
"Well a red Sierra with your registration was used earlier.. etc etc."
My heart palpitates with joy as I run to the laneway to confirm it's non-thereness.
An agonising second later I realise the villains have stolen only the rego-plates and left the car where it was!
How bad a does a car have to be that no-one will steal it in the middle of London?