Living in the Midwest, I usually just get the bird from disaffected Baby Boomers whose lives didn't turn out the way they expected. My Mustang Cobra, on the other hand...
When I briefly worked at a parts store between gigs, I began driving said Mustang while my daily was on the mend for brake work. My boss advised that I park it up front so it didn't get stolen from the back lot (the same fate befell his worked-over Civic Si a few years prior). I had a guy come in claiming to know one of my friends, and kept pushing me for a price, so I finally quoted him something like 150% of market value. He scoffed at me and said "But worth it's nowhere near that much!" I replied 'I never said I wanted to sell, ***wipe." He stomped out and laid rubber in his clapped-out pickup.
About a month after I bought my 911, I was at the Hershey swap meet and came back to a business card laid gently under the windshield wiper. I saved it, and took it as a compliment.
A "nice" car in my neck of the woods is a Hummer H2 or a C5 Corvette, typically purchased with proceeds from a winning scratch-off ticket. Someone once asked me if my 911 was new. I kind of love living in the Bizarro Midwest sometimes...