Back in the mid-1980s my friend Ken Hone held a "how to repair your own car" workshop for a bunch of us. And Kenny's car at the time was a Chevy Nova the size of a tank: you could literally open up the hood and step inside to do your repairs.
The beautiful thing about cars of that vintage and earlier was that you actually could fix them yourself: all the parts were simple, and they fit together in ways that real people could understand. That's why I could replace the starter motor on my 1978 Datsun 510 and install a new brake line on my 1978 Ford F100 myself, even though I know next to nothing about cars and trucks.
I actually owned a Chevy Nova myself for a while. The details are foggy, and I never got to the point where I could actually drive the car around, but I seem to recall that I acquired it from the the ex-girlfrriend of my good friend Richard Hamilton. It was towed to my place in the country outside of Peterborough, Ontario. Where it sat, unloved. Until it was towed away when I moved. I should have loved it more.