<human>: Provide a brief overview of the text.

This is from a comment I left on the thread about kids not being appreciative about their presents.  Someone mentioned a girl who said her b-day was ruined because she got the wrong colored BMW.

My parents got me a 1988 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme Classic with an Odometer that broke at 208,000 miles. It would stall even though it was an automatic, it only had an airbag for the driver, the roof leaked, the engine leaked, and it had a carburetor. However, it was very spacious (and I'm a big dude), had the most comfortable backseat ever (that's what people sitting on it told me, I didn't find out by having sex), T-tops, it was always warm in the winter because of the glass roof, it was flat on top so it was perfect for sitting on to star gaze, two 12 inch subwoofers that my bro put in the back when he drove it before me, and a 5.0 L V8 engine that growled beautifully. It was the most commonly stolen car in the state of Ohio and we lived near Dayton which had the second highest gta rate behind Cleveland. It might be known as being beloved by rappers, but it was also beloved by a quintessentially white kid from Ohio. I cried a little the day my parents dropped me off at college and drove back to turn it in for the Cash for Clunkers program to help pay for my mom's new car. I loved it until the bitter end even though I knew my parents could have afforded a "better" car. It was my first car after all, and if you don't love your first car you have no soul.
<bot>: My parents gave me a crappy car, but I loved it more than any rich snob could love their soulless luxury cars. Thanks to Obama it is now dead.