Nah, nah, nah - no bad cars mentioned here!
My blood still runs cold and the hairs on the back of my neck still rise when I recall this:
Hired in 1990 just before war broke out, our Yugoslavian holiday was made even more memorable for this travelling companion. Inconceivably shyte, I could put my hand up to my wrist in the panel gap on the left side of the tailgate, whilst the right side was so tight the paint was worn off.
The driver's seat back collapsed and had to be propped up with our suitcase and I truly thought the entire interior was going to fall apart.
Considering it was based on the highly-regarded FIAT128 the Commies must have put immense effort in to make it so irredeemably bad.
It drank petrol and I remember initially driving off from a filling station before getting all my change from a 10 million dinar note.
The most exciting experience came in Sarajevo when standing at a red light, the back door opened and a girl of about 16 jumped in. She asked if we were looking for accommodation and, to cut a long story short, we finished up in her parent's fourth floor flat in what became known as sniper's alley on the outskirts of Sarajevo.
We slept in a small double behind a curtain whilst the rest of the family - about six of them - slept in the only other room.
Great people!