I am exceedingly attached to my car (Hagrid) and often proclaim that he is perfectly fine. Fit as a fifteen year old fiddle.
And then I walk to my door, make sure I lean into it to disengage the unlock mechanism correctly (the door won't open otherwise), adjust the blanket on the seat because part of the seat warmers gets really freaking hot and additionally, there's a big tear in the seat, make certain that I have my automatic jumper box with me because sometimes he just doesn't work up the juice to start if I haven't driven him in a bit, turn the air on (and get blasted in face with little foam bits from who knows where in the system - oh and the AC doesn't actually work), and crap, did I double check that the part of the front bumper that likes to pop off and drag on the ground was correctly attached? Let me go kick that back into place. His brakes require enough force that I pretty much slam to a stop when I drive newer cars and haven't calibrated myself, and his antennae broke off a couple months ago somehow so I get only a few radio stations. When they're close. And there aren't too many trees or tall buildings. He also gets regular boluses of coolant and I have not a clue what he does with it all. Oh and he's a vw, so the check engine light is pretty much a staple.
All little things, none that are insurmountable problems, but enough things that my partner has been bugging me to get a new car for at least two years. But I'm legitimately going to cry when my Haggers finally bites the dust. 😢