Carla & Bug
Model:
1970 Beetle
Name:
I’ve just always called it Bug.
Color:
Had it repainted the original color. Interior is still original paint.
Mileage:
398,000—about to turn over a fourth time.
Motors:
I had it rebuilt in 1997 to keep it on the road. I swapped out the block, although looking back, I should have had it rebuilt too. I was a poor kid on a budget.
Owned since:
1996, when I turned sixteen.
Owners:
1970: My grandparents. 1980: My mom. 1994: My brother. 1996: Me.
Location:
California
Favorite driving song:
"Comet" by Hey Champ. Intro sounds a little like my motor!
Bug has always been there for me. Technically I’ve had it longer than I’ve known my husband, and we met in high school. Me and Bug have been together for a long time. It’s kind of my rock.
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My grandparents bought it new in Southern California. It was manufactured in December of ’69, they bought it in March, and it’s been in the family ever since. It was my grandpa’s daily driver.
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​My mom received it as a gift when she graduated from nursing school in 1980, the same year I was born. It was her daily driver, so my brother and I grew up in it. Then when my brother turned sixteen, he drove it, and when I turned sixteen, it became my daily driver. I drove it all through college and grad school and had to retire it as my daily driver in 2005 as I needed reliable transportation for my senior year of grad school. It became a quasi-recreational vehicle—I would drive it to keep the rubber good.
I love it because I can work on it myself and it runs almost no matter what, or if it’s not running, you can make it run with a little tweaking here and there. It stops without brake fluid. It runs without oil, for a time. It floats—I have taken it swimming! I do most of the maintenance stuff and then little things like the ignition switch. I hate electrical, so I’m very proud of myself for being able to do that. I’m not super mechanically inclined, but I like to know how things work and how they are put together and be a little self-sufficient. In high school, someone took a photograph in the parking lot of me on the ground changing the tire while my boyfriend and my brother were standing back watching with their arms crossed. My mom loves to show that photograph to people.
It feels like a connection to my grandparents too and a connection to my mother. There’s so much history with it. I always think about getting another one, a convertible or a bus. I just don’t know if I would have the same attachment to it at that point. These cars are like pets and children: Once you get one, it’s yours forever.
It’s been a wonderful vehicle. I’m pathologically attached to it with lots of memories: Riding home in the “way back” with the Christmas tree pointing out the passenger window. Being rear-ended while my mom had Neil Diamond playing in the tape deck—the tape cassette flew out of the dash and landed in the back seat with streamers flying everywhere. The rear deck lid and the bumper were crushed, but the engine was fine. And so we just turned it over and kept going. All kinds of adventures.
​The Volkswagen is approachable, maybe you could say it’s feminine. It’s round, it’s curvy. It’s cute. It’s not threatening. I hope my kids learn to drive it. My oldest is fourteen and I'm trying to convince her that she'd be the coolest kid in school if she pulled up in this, but she's not buying it. The clutch is about dead anyway, so it's not a not a big deal if she learns to drive on Bug.
I love it. I love driving. I like to feel like I’m one with my machine and we’re accomplishing something together. You feel the road. You’re more engaged with what you’re doing. You’re more present. You really can’t check out when you’re driving one of these—you have to pay attention because everybody’s out to get you when you’re in a little car. Drivers do really ridiculous things all the time, and it’s magnified in a car like this and you don’t have all the modern safety features. So if there is an accident, it’s going to be significant. That’s part of the thrill, I guess.
