The only car I ever took for a joyride was taken from a used car lot. A buddy of mine had lifted the spare set of keys from the key rack in the dealer’s office while there dealing on another car.
It was 1977. I was 16. The car was on ramps in the display corner of the lot. It was about 2:00 a.m. The car was a maroon 1976 Pontiac Trans Am with about 8,000 miles, identical to this one (I think the lighting is bad, as the color appears off):
It’s a very long story, but it ended in a police chase involving many officers. I was a stupid kid. Ironically, the chase (a long one) I mentioned was entirely on foot, because at some point I realized the jig was up, and parked the car as they were surrounding me, got out, and ran like hell. It’s a great story that I love to tell, but tl;dr I got away.
I’ve since owned and sold 4 Trans Ams (in the years shortly following that), but always wanted one just like that one. [sigh] And now I cannot afford one.