Old Volkswagens Never Die, They Were Dead Already

I have more affection for the Volkswagen Beetle than any other car I know. They are now re-releasing it and America is going buggy all over again. Most of my life was spent in Volkswagens up until I left for college and the car has had a rather Shakespearean affect on my life.

First, "The Midsummer's Night Nightmare." My mind was a tempest as I watched Sir James deliver the new coach to my door. One half a ton of steel, vinyl seats and plastic knobs and she was all mine. This 1967 model was the beginning of the dynasty. This beautiful insect of an automobile had no right angles, no head rests and no air conditioning, but on this hot summer, South Carolina night, I was in love with a car. I handed Jimmy Branton the $400 cash we had discussed and kissed our friendship goodbye. As he drove away with his dad who picked him up, I would swear I heard a moan come from my new, used VW. The problems started immediately. It was a 6 volt system so the electrical works couldn't muster enough power to run the AM radio without the lights going dim. I looked like a demented, mad stork as I had to dip my head down to see properly out of the windshield. VW's were never kind to guys 6'2". I didn't have that Volkswagen very long. It broke down on me so often I couldn't even drive it to work. I sold it to a guy who specialized in selling them and heard later that it blew up on him on his drive back to the dealership. "Revenge on the wrong man 'tis sweet as the crusty olive from thine twisted vine."

Next, there was "Hamlet Shops at J.C. Whitney Too." My friend Ric Huxford was an even bigger guy than me. When we road around in his yellow 1972 Volkswagen, there was over 500 pounds of passenger in the car, though, I am not going to admit who shared the bulk of the bulk. On a slick downhill road with some bad brakes we coined the term Farfuegnuegan years before it ever made an advertising campaign. Ric had totally converted this basic VW to a killer road machine. Just from mail order catalogs he added new mag rims, a small racing steering wheel (quickly outlawed) leather shifter knob and a very loud "header." The extent of our every Saturday night in that car was to go to a Bruce Lee movie and then afterward drive by McMakin's hardware and set off the burglar alarm by revving the less-than-one hundred horsepower engine. Though it was still no Herbie the Love Bug, Ric's newer miracle of modern engineering had a 12 volt system. We could comfortably park and listen to his single 8 track tape, "Rare Earth Live." Even though he is in Albuquerque and has 3 kids now, I still count Ric as my best friend, if only because we spent all those years riding only 4 inches apart. "To brush or not to brush, that is the question."

Last there was "Romeo and Juliet and the Battery Under the Seat." I was a pro now. I was in need of a solid, economical car and I thought I might try another VW. I probably new more about this car than the color coordination deprived guy selling it to me. I knew that the first Beetle ads featured Dustin Hoffman because the car would look larger when compared to his small frame. Heck, I could fit this guy in my pocket if it wasn't full of Mary Janes and Squirrel Nut Zippers. I knew the engine was in the rear and I knew the engine was designed by a German who had once had a cousin who worked for Porsche. I bought the car anyway. I hated it. It was awful. I got ripped off. Hmm, this sounds just like life. I love VWs. "What rock through yon window breaks."

Billy Murphy -- 4/10/98