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The smell of oil on a concrete floor immediately transports me back to the carport behind my grandfather's old house in St. Petersburg, Fla.

That's where he parked his Morgan. I'm not sure what the model year of the car was, but it would have been between 1950 and 1961. What a beauty:  Beige and brown with huge sweeping front fenders, a brown strap over the hood and leather gloves in the open glove compartment on the left hand side of the car, where passengers sat. Oil had permanently stained the concrete floor under the engine.

My grandfather passed away when I was seven so I don't have a lot of memories of him, but I do remember how cool it was to sit on the left side of the Morgan and go for a spin. My younger brother and I would both climb in – using the door was optional – and meander through the warm winter air to Taco Bell. Because the car was right-hand drive I would have to order and pick up the food. I'm the closer one in the image above and was about four years old when the picture was taken. My brother, then two, is in the middle.

Next week, Drive columnist Peter Cheney is going to be in England touring three car factories where they still make cars by hand. Henry Frederick Stanley Morgan founded the Morgan Motor Company in 1910, and after 104 years, craftsmen still build each car individually rather than on an assembly line. The waiting list for a new Morgan is about six months although it has been as long as 10 years and very few of them ever make it to North America.

Cars can be about a lot more than getting from point A to point B or horsepower. Every car is filled with memories and we want to hear yours. Do you have a memorable car story? Tell us in 100 words or less and we will contact you for more details. The best stories will be published as part of our new My Favourite Car series. Please use the form below to share your story.

As for my grandfather's car, I don't know what happened to it. I don't remember anyone really driving it much after he passed away. My family would drive to Florida from Toronto for two weeks every winter and one year I realized my step-grandmother's new car was parked in the spot. The Morgan was gone; the memories remain.

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