My friends in Charleston, South Carolina, had a nickname for it: The Batmobile. It was a black, early 80s, two-door Cadillac El Dorado with worn leather seats, a set of roof racks for kayaks and dinghies, and a long, flat hood that resembled the landing deck of an aircraft carrier. When I pointed the thing in a southerly direction, its distinctive Caddy hood ornament was already halfway to Georgia. It guzzled fuel like a frat boy downing brewskis on spring break and was, in all honesty, a hideous bomb. But Id bought it for a song, and man, I just loved that car.