Some guys have game like they read the directions. Others have cars so junky even hobos wouldn't sleep in them. With your help, we've assembled this list of ten cars that will never get you laid on a first date.

This is Answers of the Day - where we take the best ten responses from the previous day's "Question Of The Day". It's by you and for you, the Jalopnik readers.

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10.) 1994 Chevy Lumina Minivan

Failure To Launch: "Lovingly referred to as "The Space Ship" by my date, my parents' 1994 Chevy Lumina was where all the magic happened. And by magic, I mean we went out to eat and held hands. Legit."


Suggested by: Lysol

9.) 1982 Buick Regal Diesel

Failure To Launch: "1st car date: '82 Buick Regal Limited Diesel 5.7 Litre. I had been riding the bus to work all summer as a 15-yr-old; so I was flush with cash. Went straight from school on my 16th birthday to the DMV. Sailed through pretty easily. The driving test officer actually complimented me. Then to the electronics shop where I bought what I thought was a bitchin' component system (Pioneer CD deck with 4X oversampling! 4X!). Then to pick up my date for a romantic dinner on the Riverwalk in San Antonio. Yes, I'm that smooth. Buick driver, dines on the Riverwalk, stereo owner at 16. Classy."


Suggested by: Snapoversteer

8.) 1984 Cadillac Cimmaron

Failure To Launch: "I was 16. paid 600 bucks for it. Thought I was the most amazing kid on the block. Picked up the girl and had the awkward sit with her dad moment. He asked me what car I drove, I (blissfully ignorant) proudly told him a Cadillac Cimmaron. You know, being a caddy and all an old man had to appreciate it. He lets out a chuckle and when his daughter came down told her, and I quote: "Here sweetie, take my cell phone, in 15 minutes when his piece of shit breaks down give me a call, I'll pick you guys up"


Car broke down 4 blocks away from their house. she called him. I never had another date with her.

since then, japanese or german for me."

Suggested by: vdiddy210


7.) 2002 VW GTI

Failure To Launch: "The first date with my soon to be wife was in my 2002 GTI. It was a total disaster. I was about an hour late picking her up since my boss called an "all hands on deck meeting" at 4:45 that went on for about 90 min longer than it needed. Then I had to sit in traffic form Santa Monica all the way down to Orange County. We went out for Mexican food and she told me once we sat down to a margarita and some chips and salsa that she had given up all fried foods for lent. Then we went to a bar and after a few more drinks she mad a comment about a girls jacket (it was kind of gaudy). Then the girl and her mom tried to fight us in the bar. We went over to the tables and left them alone. At the end of the night the girl and her mom resurfaced in the parking lot and started screaming at us (at 1AM) till security showed up. Oh ya and all of this happened on my birthday! Was not the best night but made it a night to remember and she said yes when i gave her a ring."

Suggested by: Tantheman67


6.) 1987 Nissan Stanza 5-Door

Failure To Launch: "Very rare car in the US, and the last year that the 5-door was offered there. This was my first car, and was already 8 years old when I got my hands on it at 16.

It should be noted that, with the rear seats folded down, two people in the 5'9" height range could sleep inside, or whatever else you have in your nefarious minds, with relative comfort. (Alas, I never tried.)


True story, however: One weekend, my girlfriend (at the time) and I stopped at a roadside barbecue place for lunch while it was pouring down rain. They didn't have their dining room open, so we grabbed our to-go bags (or "take-away" for non-US readers), ran back to the car, and hopped in. With the rear seats folded down, we could sit in the back, facing out the rear window, eating our suddenly-picnic lunch off the trunk cover ledge, and watching the rain pour down. +1 awesome date."

Suggested by: zerobandwidth


5.) 1971 Volkswagen Super Beetle

Failure To Launch: "I was, to my embarrassment, a senior in high school going on my very first date. Not a double date, not a group date. My first real date; just the girl, me, in my car, and it was 1993.

My car was a 1971 Volkswagen Super Beetle. It was black, because I'd had it repainted by the husband of the trailer park lady who cooked the onion rings at the restaurant where I worked. The Frosted Mug, Hot Springs, Arkansas. His name was Wemp and he painted my car while drunk, with no prep work, and with two medium sided spiders embedded under the primer. Regardless of the circumstances or actual quality of the result, it was no longer cream white, aka "come bubble" to my friends, but black. Mostly.


The female part of this equation was named Amber. She was two years younger and worked as a carhop at the Mug. She was a drill team girl. She was one of the top one percent in my school in every way. She was intimidatingly hot. It took my friends the entire summer to convince me that she actually wanted me to ask her out. That it wasn't a hoax. That she would indeed say yes.

She said yes.

I picked her up in Odie, my Bug, while listening to Radiohead's Pablo Honey on the Pioneer cassette deck I'd just installed. Thanks for the graduation cash, Uncle Roy whom I've never met. The 6x9" speakers resting on the back seat, belted in for security, were obtained for $30 at one of those traveling electronics roadshows that would turn up at convention centers and arenas a couple of times a year. The cones were lime green, and the 14-way tweeters were nothing more than a bubble of mylar.


But I'm a creep... I'm a weirdo... What the hell am I doing here?

"Hi!" she said.
"It's cute!"

We drove. Every time I shifted on the right side of the pattern, my hand would graze her leg. I'd get dizzy.


We drove to Subway downtown, second story of a shopping center called Spencer's Corner. My friend Jack was working, who happened to be an art club friend of Amber's as well. He made us "special" sandwiches. Sandwich artist, indeed. We ate and giggled. She poked a finger through the meaningful hole in my Rollins Band "Silence Sucks" T-shirt. I almost passed out.

We drove Odie down to the end of Central Avenue and parked. We then proceeded to paste up flyers for my band's upcoming show at the local Elk Lodge. I walked on the street side of the sidewalk as a show of protection, in case anyone driving on Central accidentally, or not, swerved onto the sidewalk.

We were close, but not close enough. I vividly remember screaming at myself in my triple-octave drill sergeant voice, "Hold her hand, you goddamned fucking idiot! She's right there! She's the hottest girl you know and she is INTO YOU!!!"


We chatted. We laughed. I never tried to touch her. We walked back up the other side of the street and got back into my car. I drove her home. We went out two more times. Our last date, she requested I make a tape of the Van Halen song "Ain't Talkin 'Bout Love." Naively, I said sure. Not a problem.

I went to college.

The next and last time I saw her was at the Brau Haus bar about eight years ago while visiting family back home in Hot Springs. The place was downstairs of the Subway where we had kicked off our first date. She was producing a passport from Thailand in order to buy a beer. She was now a resident there, having married an engineering student who had moved back to his birthplace to improve urban infrastructure. She was an interior designer. She was still gorgeous. I was still frightened of her.


Until recently, two regrets haunted me. The first was that I didn't have the fortitude to put the moves on this girl. Not because she was there and willing and I was a hormonally motivated beast, but because I was truly attracted to her. She would have been a great girlfriend. That girl for whom I would have gratefully wasted my freshman year of college. "I have a girlfriend back home. Here's her picture." The other was trading Odie to my junior year housemate for two month's rent.

Now I'm married and expecting my first child. I'm married to my dreamgirl precisely because I was able to say what I needed to say and do what I needed to do at the time when those elusive actions were right and necessary.

So I only hold onto one of those regrets."

Suggested by: Chairman Kaga


4.) 1999 Honda Accord

Failure To Launch: "She said if I showed up in my '72 Beetle, she wouldn't go. I'm not sure why I dated her for two years..."

Suggested by: Qurtyslyn


3.) 1990 Seat Ibiza

Failure To Launch: "A first-gen, 1990 SEAT Ibiza. It was my mum's car, but no soccer mum ride. A 1.5 liter 95 horsepower Porsche designed eninge with minimal curb weight. It couldn't turn, but gosh it could accelerate! "My" best car so far.

We went to the lake at night and just talked. That was over 5 years ago, we've been married for 2.5 years now."


Suggested by: GeeHalen

2.) 1988 Ford Mustang GT

Failure To Launch: "I showed up to pick up a date in high school just after getting my license in my Mom's 88 Mustang GT. Her Dad thought the car was cool, but eyed me suspiciously every Tuesday (the day I could borrow the car) I came to the house. She couldn't have given a rat's ass about the car, but I think it made me look overtly hormonal to her Dad.


Never got to second base with her and the car got sold for "better transportation." Wasn't thrilled about either of those situations."

Suggested by: Markstre302


1.) 1991 Honda Civic

Failure To Launch: "1991 Honda Civic, basic model, four door, automatic. The stupid thing shifted terribly. I mean whiplash shifts. (that's how I got my first deep throat action) It had a tree fall on it 2 years after my parents got it new. So when I was driving (2002) both windshields would leak when it rained/snowed. The body was basically rusting away on it's wheels.

First girl I took on a date/dated her dad was a mechanic, he taught me a little, but was basically keeping my car running so he didn't have to come pick up his lil girl on the side of a highway.


It had a few quirks anyway though. Like sometimes it just would not start at all. I would have to wait an hour or two then it would turn over fine. Other times it would just start to overheat, I would pull over shut it off wait a few then it would be fine for another hour of driving.

I had been "dating" the girl for a awhile before I started driving, so when I got the car, she didn't care what it looked like. She just wanted to get out of her house. However, that stupid thing was so small I don't think I ever did break in the back seat."

Suggested by: jmd1513

(Photo Credit: Wikipedia)