When I was a kid, we used to bring the family tree home with the Triumph TR6 convertible. We would just drop the top, put the trunk of the tree on the top of the windshield, and go.
As the youngest, I got the unenviable job of sticking my hands up above the windshield to hold onto the tree to keep it from flying away. I about froze my hands off every year, and I couldn’t see a thing. I don’t think Dad could, either.
The real miracle was the running TR6.
My aunt drove one (what few times it ran) way back when. I remember that it sat a lot.