My mom drove a Dodge Dart for awhile when I was a kid. I'm not sure the year -- it was probably hobbled together from a few models. It was what one would call a Rez (short for reservation, 'cause we indigenous) Car: one door was a different color to all the others, it was held together mostly with duct tape, the driver's side window only rolled down if you pounded on it just right, and the passenger's side not at all, and there was a boom box taped to the dash instead of a working stereo system. It didn't go in reverse, and our neighbors, the big, indigenous bodybuilder brothers, used to pull it out of the driveway when my mom wanted to go somewhere.1963 Dodge Dart with a slant 6 engine and push button automatic transmission. That thing was a tank that sipped gas. Then I got a '72 Plymouth Fury muscle car that was a hot rod.
When I was still young enough to be in a booster seat we were driving in the mountains on a lonely road. The car jostled and rattled as if we'd run over something small, but my older sister looked back and couldn't see anything in the road. A few minutes later another clank, bump, and rattle. This kept on for several minutes, and in the meantime a Washington State Trooper happened to come along behind us.
Well, it turns out the car had had enough of its mortal coil, and was shedding it bit by little bit: pieces were literally falling off into the road.
My mother became increasingly distressed, and when the transmission fell out, she finally pulled over, the State Trooper right behind.
I remember his swagger, as he walked up to the car. He picked up some of the smaller pieces along the way. In my memory he had aviator sunglasses -- I don't know if this is truth or not, but it would have been the 80s, so it's highly likely.
He got to the driver's side window and knocked, and my mom tried desperately to jiggle the handle and pound the window down. Finally she yelled through the window that it wouldn't budge, and she opened the door. Which fell off.
The trooper began to laugh, my mother began to cry, and I got to ride in a tow truck.
This is an absolutely true story of a Dodge Dart, and those of you who are Facebook Friends with my mother can ask her if you don't believe me.