The VW Chronicles

Last week, Rob and I re-upholstered the front seats of my 1963 VW Bug.  We did it old school, removing the old parts (torn up upholstery and horsehair pads), and then replacing them with the new.  Often, people simply cover the old stuff with new vinyl.  For those of you who are interested, we did not use hog rings.  We used the spiky things underneath the seat to hold the upholstery in place.  The only difference is that these covers didn't have the wire around the seat hem, which you can twist to tighten the fit.  Instead, they had a string that you pull tight.  I did forget to buy some burlap, so eventually the horsehair pads may begin to shed underneath the seats.  No biggy.  That process will take decades to begin.  One fun thing that happened is that Rob had to do some welding.  The bar at the bottom of both backrests, where the seams get tucked, had both broken off, so he welded them back on, and I got to wear a helmet and watch!  It's been nice driving the Bug this past week without horsehair poking at the back of my legs. 

Of course, air conditioning and CD players and four-wheel drive can be fun.  But nothing in the world can beat driving around in an old car on a lovely summer evening with the vent wings turned just so.  It's the secret to life.  Sure, they don't do you much good at noon when you're stopped at a red light, but you gotta take the good with the bad.  Oh, and the chirping tailpipes aren't bad, either.  Gotta love that sound.

Good VW Bug parts are getting harder and harder to come by these days.  When I bought my first Bug, I remember always having the choice between the good but more expensive German parts or their much cheaper Mexican and Brazilian counterparts.  Lately, only parts from south of the border are available.  This means that quality and aesthetics have suffered greatly.  Ultimately, it's much more important to have mechanical parts that are dependable.  But, at the risk of sounding completely superficial, it's also important to have parts that are pretty.  Take, for instance, my gas gauge.  As you may have read, I've had issues with gas measurement for a long time, whether I didn't have a gauge at all (Bug #3), or it didn't work (#4), or it worked but the needle was broken so I couldn't tell what the stub was pointing at (#5).  #5 was really a shame.  Finally, one that worked, but that darned needle!  I searched for a long time for a German replacement, but I just couldn't get my hands on one.  Finally, I broke down and bought a cheesy Mexican after-market version.  The fact that a VW part says "gasolina" instead of "fuel" says it all.  Anyway, it didn't work right.  Debbie and the gang recalibrated it about four or five times, but the thing had a mind of its own.  So we decided to take it apart, along with the one w/ the broken needle, and create a composite.  Using the intact needle of one and the working body of the other, we could finally achieve success!  That was the idea, anyway, but our plan didn't work, and this Frankengauge is what I ended up with.  The needle is glued together, the backplate is the original worn one -- see scraping beneath the "1/2", and the foreground is obviously after market.  Well, it's ugly, but at least it works.  It also says "Urghhh."  No, not really.  I shouldn't run out of gas anymore, but I'm sure I'll find a way.

The one thing that I can never restore on my Bug, no matter how much effort or money, is the black license plate.  Some ding dong blue-plated it long ago.  (Sigh....)  Oh well.

For some time I've been a fan of early Ford Falcons, ever since I met one that lived on the south end of Ocean in Seal Beach in the early 90s.  For a few years, I even had a subscription to a fan newsletter.  This past weekend I came within a hair of buying a 1960 4-door sedan.  It was almost the most beautiful car I'd ever seen, second only to my former 1963 grey Bug (Beautiful One), but things didn't work out.  After this disappointment, I was moping around feeling a bit depressed, and then my husband cheered me up by pointing out that, since I hadn't bought that car, I now had some money to burn, and what better way to burn it than to restore the 1963 VW Bug that's been begging for that sort of attention since I bought the poor little thing five or six years ago.  Now, why didn't that occur to me?  So the game is on, my friends.  I've been driving around in a crappy car long enough.  Now I'm gonna spend all my money on the Bug.  I hope nobody decides to steal it after I've restored it.  One heartache by stolen Bug is more than one woman should have to endure, but I can't keep living in fear of auto theft, eh?  So I'm goin' for it.  "Before" pictures coming soon.  "After" will be ongoing.  Before and After rides also available to my friends and family by appointment (BYOSB - seat belt).  Hopefully, after the restoration, I can take a road trip in it and even use my incredibly beautiful roof rack, which is currently stored in Rob's garage.  A stock Bug with a stock roof rack is a lovely thing to behold.  Can you picture us now on Route 66 in the high desert?  I can.

Last week, I was driving home from work down Broadway, as I always do, just south of the 105 Fwy.  My sister called me on my cell phone, so I thought I'd be a good girl and pull over instead of driving while holding the phone to my ear (my earpiece broke).  There was a park, so I thought this was an appropriate place to pull over next to the curb.  I'd been there not more than two minutes when a patrol car came by, pulled into the parking lot, then drove onto the sidewalk and grass, and stopped beside where I was parked on the street.  I ignored him at first, but then the officer rolled down his window and started talking to me.  He asked me if I was broken down.  I said no.  Then he asked me what I was doing there.  Mind you, it was 5:30 p.m. in early summer on the northern hemisphere of the globe (hence, perfectly light outside), no suspicious loitering around the park as far as I could tell.  Why should I not be there?  I told him I had pulled over to take a cell phone call.  He advised me to leave because "You shouldn't be here." 

Rob and others have told me about how when they owned VWs they were constantly being harrassed by the cops, something that I always found amusing.  In general, it would seem absurd and paranoid to think that you're being harrassed just for driving an old VW.  But if you're not doing anything illegal, and you're being addressed by the cops anyway, it does make you wonder, eh?  So I wonder if this guy was genuinely concerned for my wellbeing.  I must say that I have never seen any shady activity that would indicate to me that this is a dangerous place.  Or was this my first experience in mild VW discrimination?  How exciting.  Is this in fact a drug park?  Did I strike the cop as a shady type, sitting in my Bug, talking on my phone, arranging that drug deal?  Is this why he drove on the grass and sidewalk to get to me?  I'm amused, either way.  I look forward to future discrimination.  It's about time.