When I were a lad, VW Bugs (or Beetles – take your pick) were thick on the ground. My parents’ friends had them; my father drove one of these bad Squareback boys, picked up direct from the VW factory at Wolfsburg and a fine car till it caught on fire. Twice. In fact my grandmother drove a 1969 one in her favorite color – red. In the 1960s, small was beautiful. It still can be.
Small is definitely not one of these:
It’s rather more like this:
That’s history. What do I drive? I walk the automotive walk. Hmm, that’ s a bad analogy because the point of having a car is that one doesn’t have to walk but no matter. Here’s my lead sled:
Yup, there it is in all its glory, parked right next to my favorite trailhead. I like to think that I’ve driven off road more than 98% of SUVs even if it’s just grass. I’m quite the reverse snob.
My so-called friends have deemed this really quite cheap, gets great mileage, and irredeemably geeky hatchback as: The Mustard Cruiser, The Short Bus, and most cruelly, The Dorkmobile. All true,