My mom had a 1965 Ford Galaxie 500 when I was little. It wasn't a red convertible like this one. It was a sensible white four-door hardtop bought just before I was born. My dad drove a little two-door Ford Falcon with an engine that barely fit in the engine compartment.
It may sound strange but I'll always associate the grille of the 65 Galaxie with my mom's big, bright smile. I guess it's a mental association akin to pareidolia in which our brains automatically search for pattern and familiarity in an otherwise random jumble of stimuli. It's part of what makes us see familiar shapes in clouds or faces in the burn pattern of toast. I suppose a lot of people see faces in cars - some cars more than others; it's probably the genesis of the Cars animated movies. Maybe everybody thinks of their mom when they see a particular car. I consider myself blessed to get to see mine smiling at me when I see this one.