Beetle nut

This is a very personal story that involves a Volkswagen beetle addiction dating back further than I generally care to remember (or am even capable of remembering).

It started when I was just 18, walking out of the local police station clutching a newly acquired driver's licence and eager to get into my first car.

I already knew what I would really like, but figured it was a bit out of my reach. In those days, the VW beetle was – believe it or not – a highly desirable car for young drivers but was not the cheapest in its category – new or used.

Its performance (again believe it or not) was quite punchy for the period, and not many other cars of its size could be cruised flat-out, at a heady 118km/h all day (a heritage of Hitler's plan for an autobahn-compatible people's car).

Yep, everybody also knew about the rear-engined, swing-axled car's tendency to trip and roll more readily than most of its front-engined, leaf-spring, live-axle rear suspension competition, but those with some driving skills could usually get around all this and post quick point-to-point times. Wet roads needed to be treated with extra respect though.

This was before beetles gained their “dack-dack” reputation. The reason they were branded thus came much later in life when VW beetles were still running while most of the British competition had been consigned to the junkyard. Beetles were built to last and when new, were no noisier than, say, their Morris Minor 1000 contemporaries.

Surprisingly, my first car (well, not actually, because for a brief time I owned a massive, thirsty and awfully unwieldy Pontiac) was actually a Morris Minor. It was acquired because these Alex Issigonis-designed British VW equivalents were generally more affordable than a similar-age beetle – and it wasn't even a Minor 1000, just a series two model with the little, pathetically slow and injury-prone 803cc engine. It was at best a fraught experience.

In fact I went through a long-standing love-hate relationship with Morris for many years, during which I owned a couple of series two Minors, as well as a (great) two-door 1000 and a (disappointing) Mini Cooper before finally buying my first beetle in the mid 1960s.

It was the belated realisation of a dream.

By this time I was a family man and the beetle was trustworthy, comfortable and enjoyable to drive, if a little challenged in terms of practicality. The front boot was small and was barely compensated by the luggage area awkwardly located behind the rear seat. In terms of passive safety it was my first seatbelt-equipped car – even though these were sash-only and of dubious potential benefit.

But the blue beetle served me well for a number of years until it finally made way for a succession of cars more appropriate for a growing family. Many of those cars barely rate recollection. Let's just say the British Leyland connection was more or less finished apart from other (very) brief and unsatisfactory associations via an Austin 1800 and a Mini, this time a basic 850.

Volkswagens came back into the fold via a Type 3 fastback, then a Passat, then a Golf, before I acquired my second beetle – this time an old, standard-spec 1200 purchased cheap from a family friend as a stop-gap measure after blowing most of my funds on an expensive European sojourn.

This beetle, JAP 760, is possibly my most fondly remembered car because it gave back way more than I could ever have expected of it, and remained in the family garage for many years until a work colleague begged to buy it from me.

Two more beetles followed: A two-litre pearl white “Cal-look” built up as a project car during my days as editor of the now defunct Car Australia magazine, then the 1971 1300 I still own today. The former was, to me, another dream realised as I helped create a beetle that looked great, actually performed, and was quite luxurious inside.

But the 1971 model “accidentally” purchased during my time with the Cal-look car was, and remains, a far more enduring experience.

It came to me by accident because when I bought it 25 years ago I was not even in the market for a car. In addition to the Cal-look car, we owned a family Renault 12, as well as the original standard-spec 1200 now being driven by my son. There was his Type three wagon in there too, as well as a rare factory sunroof beetle from which I had transferred the engine to the 1200 after it was inadvertently run dry of oil by (another) family member who thought merely filling it up with petrol was giving it more than enough attention.

Yet another VW was hardly necessary but when my son started looking for a cheap car to run around in while his Type Three was being repaired, I stumbled across an advertisement in the Melbourne Age that grabbed my attention. Not quite in the same price category being sought by my son, the 1971 beetle sounded like something too good to ignore.

Ostensibly in search of a cheap 1200, we went to have a look at the 1300 and, from the moment we saw it in the then-owner's driveway, we knew we were looking at something special.

The car was on its second owner, had travelled only 64,000 miles and had a complete service history. It was all original, with outstanding paint, an undisturbed interior (apart from the Ford AM radio) and when you lifted the floor mats you were greeted by shiny, unblemished paintwork. The same applied – and still does – under the mudguards and the car sat high on its (torsion bar) suspension.

We were even more convinced when we sat in the 1300 and found the seats were still tight and sag-free, and all the trim apart from a section of piping below the rear window was in excellent condition.

The decision to bite the bullet and pay exactly what the seller was asking came when a young girl and her boyfriend arrived with intentions of making the lovely yellow/black beetle a first car. Obviously I couldn't have that, and phoned my puzzled wife to tell her I had just bought another VW.

That was 25 years ago, a fact that surprises me when I realise I have now owned the car for most of its 42 years. It was “only” a 17-year-old teenager when I bought it.

But the beetle still has a place in my garage, receiving perhaps a little less attention than it deserves. Because it has done very little work since I bought it (mileage is 68,000), it does not look a lot different to what it was 25 years ago. It is fully registered and insured, but shortly will be getting new brake lines and fuel lines, as well as an inspection of all those other things that inevitably deteriorate with age. But the paint under the mudguards is still polishable, as are the under-floormat areas.

Lining up old and new beetles for the photos, I was struck by how dissimilar the two cars are. Although viewed in isolation it is easy to pick the new car's design origins, there are few visual connections when the two cars are lined up alongside each other. I did appreciate a lot of the new car's detail work though, particularly the body-colour dash area and the B-pillar grab straps that gave it a very distinctive interior ambience.

Obviously the drive experiences are worlds apart, even considering the yawning time gap between the two cars. The original comes as something of a shock to those only accustomed to contemporary cars with its omnipresent noise, slow acceleration and a cramped interior where the driver's nose seems in imminent danger of contacting the near-flat windscreen.

The new Beetle, while it continues with a cramped back seat and not a lot of luggage space even though it’s a hatchback, is a great drive. The 1.4-litre engine is barely any larger than that of the 1300 beetle, but the Twincharger aspiration endows responsive, rapid performance and fuel economy way in excess of the original, while the handling is in keeping with its sports coupe proportions.

Personally I'm a fan of the latest New Beetle. I think the designers did a good job transforming the new-generation car from a cartoon character into an almost Porsche-style coupe. In doing so, they have created a personalised, premium car where the original Volkswagen was just that – the people’s car (That said, the New Beetle is not as legitimate a retro car as the current MINI, which at least honours the principles set down by Alex Issigonis all those years ago – as does practically every other front-drive car on the planet).

A question that frequently occurs is what I would do if somebody wanted to buy my beetle. I was made a generous offer a few years back, but let it go. I reckon the same would happen today.

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