I knew a crew of idiots who drove a 1964 Corvair 2400 miles to Los Angeles where it promptly died, in that era. They decided to look for work to get money to ride the "Dog" back home. A guy gave them work picking fruit out in the Central Valley, where they were locked in a barn every night after a gourmet meal consisting of a bologna sandwich and dollop of pinto beans. One made a run for it where he called his folks to wire them enough money for the ride home.
He went back, slipped in to the barn, and got the other three. They hitched out of there to the nearest town with a bus station and headed east. I'd forgot about the tale until I got a call from one survivor in April. I thought I'd die of laughter when we started talking about it. My cousin John was on that trip, he promptly joined the Army and later went to Ranger school. I asked him what Ranger school was like? He went, "A piece of cake after living in a metal barn in the desert on bologna sandwiches and water."
A friend who was a power lifter used to sucker people into betting him he couldn't bench the the front end of a Chevette, he could.
Let us not forget the Vega in the era of mid-70's cars. If they lasted a year w/o needing major repairs you were lucky. What a piece of crap!