My first car was given to me by my grandpa. A 20 year old ford F-150 with a wood bed, mismatched tires, "optional" muffler, and a hand choke from what I'm guessing was a lawn mower. Loved that thing, as long as I never had to go over 55 mph. Had the rear axle from a chevy van.
Between my junior and senior year, or close to, I was helping a drama club clear out a warehouse to get volunteer hours and they were throwing out a pull-out couch that was used as a prop. Me and my best friend thought we could figure something out with it so we took it. About a week later it was bolted to the wood bed of the truck and became a hangout before Friday night football games.
One of my teachers liked to call it a "half-truck" because it looked like just a cab from behind since there weren't sides on the bed either (lost those at some point driving around on seasonal roads).
I had a radio that I think I stole from my older brother's car after he ran that out of engine oil, he didn't understand car maintenance, and then put the speakers in rain gutter as speaker cases and ran them behind the seat. Looking back, I'm amazed that thing never just burst into spontaneous combustion with the amount of half-ass electrical work and repairs I did to it. Best part about the stereo, couldn't hear it over the engine anyway because of the amount of holes in the exhaust system that I kept making from riding around the seasonal roads and farmer's fields (it was originally my gramps old farm truck).
Good times, but times are good now too.