Hello, my name is Mikey and I'm a life-long Volkswagen nut.
I miss my bug. As of this writing, it has been 31 days without looking at my bug sitting there in the garage, quietly waiting for our next adventure together. It's bad. Real bad. I can imagine some of you know the feeling. A garage without a Volkswagen in it.
I have to get over it. So I decided to waist some time and check in on social media. There I came across a shared post featuring a vintage picture of a gnarly front-end-mashed bug with the dude still sittin' in it and he's alert of all things! This reminded of back in 1992, when I was without a bug for a time because of a very similar (nearly identical) circumstance. Shamed It was a 1967.
Thirty days. Thirty hard days without the smell of raw gas wafting through the speaker grill, fat exhaust fumes and of course, horse hair. It was quite possibly the most difficult of time of my (car-guy) life. Then add the fact that I was single at the time and that sled was my daily driver. Yeah, that sucked.
Day 31 came and as if by magic, I was afforded the opportunity to acquire an incomplete 1970 std Beetle. Ok, it was a '70 but I wasn't gonna' complain. (dirty little secret: I did a pan-off on this bug for this same guy, a year earlier and the project was stopped the after I reassembled the pan and body)
Oh, hell no. So this 20-something broke-dick surfer/low-paid tire jockey with no prospects made a deal and traded a set of “take-off” rubber and some cheap chromies for his truck and the bug was mine.
Joy. Pure happiness returned and not long after, I got that hoopty back on the road sporting an amalgum of parts collected from various years and the OG fenders from the 67, the engine, rear fenders, bumpers, the pop-out windows and seats and stuff and junk and things.
Fast forward to 2019
I still own that 1970 and incredibly, not much has changed with it except for the correct year fenders, bumpers and tail lights. It still has some of the grey primer covering (and slughing off) the re-painted yellow body. The dings and scrapes, the chipped panels all are rustier and more pronounced. Still got those mismatched running boards, one with vinyl, one without. The exposed bondo is cracking and flaking off. The pop-out hinge knobs are dry and turning to dust. That's my ride and I love it the way it is. My neighbors ask me: “Hey, why put that car in the garage instead of your finer cars?” I tell 'em: “It's not a car, it's a Volkswagen.”
But because of insurmountable logistics, it sits1700 miles away in the state I moved from, thirty one days ago! This has to be separation anxiety and I got it bad. I found myself they other day unpacking vw parts and rummaging around a treasure trove of OG hardware coating my hands with that rich black oil, grease and road dirt that I've come to know so well. But I know it's safe. It's parked at my brothers' place, both of whom enjoy storied histories of their own with Volkswagens and this gives me peace.
I know it ain't forever but 31 days is the longest I have been without a Volkswagen and it's breaking this mans Flat-Four chambered heart.