I was with a roommate in 1973 when he bought a brand new Triumph TR6, red with mahogany interior. As roommate, shared a lot of rides in the car, commuting to work in Washington DC, day trips to Ocean City, Maryland, partying, stuffing girls in the car with us. In 1979, he got bored with the car, and per the agreement I had to get first dibs, bought it from him.
35 years later, I still have the car. I have gone through numerous muscle cars, other toys, two wives, a lot of moves, and this car is the one constant in my life. I put it through a restoration, and have rebuilt just about everything on the car, to the point I feel I could write a repair manual for it. It is always there for me, and has never left me stranded.
This is the one car I keep. I have claimed you can bury me in it some day.
Any one particular memory? Not really. The car is such a pleasure that every drive in it is a memory, and in 35 years they all run together. I can head down the road and sometimes scare myself because I zone out, smelling the smells and appreciating the sights, losing track of what I am doing and where I am at.
I dare anyone to value a vehicle any more than I do my TR6.