Gallery: What Your Car Says About You

Complex Says: If you're lucky enough to drive this cherry '68 Mustang Fastback, we can safely assume two things: You're one of the few Baby Boomers whose personal wealth wasn't wiped out in the Great Recession, and you've just bought your childhood dream. It is possible, of course, that you're a very talented gearhead who rescued and restored this classic from a junkyard or an old man's garage—but we doubt it.

Complex Says: The thing about hippies: They have no sense of irony. At least not the hippies who were there, maaan, back when peace marches really meant something, maaaaaaan. If you're cruising around Venice Beach in this ridiculous throwback machine (note the California license plate), you're begging for a police baton up side your head.

Complex Says: So you've blown more than a few grand to turn this BMW—the douchiest auto brand in the world, by the way—into a respectable street racer. You've added intakes, increased downforce, probably slapped a spoiler on the back. Then you painted teeth on the grill—and you've suddenly returned this ride to its rightful place as the douchiest car on the road.

Complex Says: An Aston Martin. An MG Roadster. A Triumph TR7 Drophead (when you can keep it running). Some two-seater ragtops are classics. But…a Mazda Miata? This is the ultimate '90s dinkmobile. The Mini Cooper of its day. If you own this car, there's no winning. Either you've kept it cherry since buying it back when Clinton was getting hummers in the Oval Office—or you sought it out on the used market. Clearly, you're a man in his mid-50s who's nostalgic for the '90s.

Complex Says: This is America, where every citizen is welcome to promote the word of God on his or her minivan. And far be it from us to take exception to one's religious beliefs. But one thing is certain: If you drive this car, you are the most humorless individual in the entire state of Arkansas. Or whatever other retarded state you call home.

Complex Says: It's not just members of the religious right who embarrass themselves by plastering idiotic messages all over their slow-moving shitboxes. This monument to lefty self-righteousness was erected to make you feel stupid. (Literally: One bumper sticker boasts, "I See Dumb People.")

Complex Says: When one sees two kayaks strapped to the top of a car parked near a remote body of water, one usually thinks: lesbians. But only when that car is a Jeep—not a sensible four-door Honda. Instead, this family-friendly rice-burner suggests a once-active man who refuses to accept the rotting fate of his suburban life. Pity the poor wife who'd rather be watching a Real Housewives marathon on Saturday afternoon.

Complex Says: They're billed as rugged, yet they're not particularly reliable. They're fun to drive, but by no means comfortable. And they're no longer British-made (Tata of India bought the brand in 2008.) But if you're driving a mud-covered Land Rover anywhere in the U.S., you're making a statement: Forget reliability. Forget comfort. This is one of the world's classic off-roaders, dammit, and the mileage is just fucking awful.

Complex Says: Considered by some to be Cadillac at its best, this four-door beast burns through gas like Charlie Sheen levels a mountain of blow. To drive one, therefore, is a serious middle finger straight up OPEC's ass. Sure, whoever drives this beauty could pimp it out—nice rims, some gold trim—but we respect his choice to stick with factory white. Then again, those windows are tinted, so who knows what's waiting inside.

Complex Says: If this is your car, you're Snoop Dogg. And that's all we have to say.