Retreads

Things are getting busy here, and I am going to dig up some old blog posts, and other things I've written, to fill up the next few months.  If I have time and energy I will write new stuff, maybe about diapers and sleep deprivation.  For now, here is an ode to Volkswagens, old and new, that I wrote twenty years ago.




                                  Apologia....why I traded my Bus for a shiny new Fox

     This summer, when the temperature was topping 90 everyday and the world was one of swimming pools, sports, and suntans, I was thinking about winter.  Among other things, I was thinking how cold my trusty 1972 Volkswagen Bus was on a cold winter's night, even after it had "warmed up."  As I stood on the dealer's lot for the tenth time, pondering the decision to give up the Transporter and everything that went with it, the thought of shivering in that box on wheels, squinting at the road through frost that seemed unlikely to melt until springtime, became the deciding factor.  I caved...and drove off the lot in a brand new '93 Fox, the low-end Volkswagen sedan.
     Oh yeah, I miss the Bus.  There's just something about it...maybe that air-cooled, almost-aviation engine sound. The space, too--heck, the stuff I had stashed in the Bus' various hidey-holes filled the entire trunk of the Fox!  All sorts of useful (and useless) items--some of which I still carry around; I hate the thought of not having the right tool or picnic accessory with me.  I miss the grins and giggles and waves and peace signs.  I miss being able to look drive-through restaurant employees in the eye.  I miss not having to worry about just how close I am to that--scrrrrape!--fence.  How could I hurt the Bus?  Now I have to wash and wax and worry.  Before, if it started raining, everyone except me had to rush out and roll their windows up.  Not me...the Bus could take it.  I could haul anything, with no fear of damaging the upholstery (what there was of it).  I hauled quite a few people, moved furniture, carried trash to the dump, even thought about taking a rooster to its new home: hey, it could fly out of a pickup, and the Bus was like a cage on wheels.   If the thing got dirty, I could just hose it out.  And I miss the headroom...driving the Bus was like being in the living room of a small house: everything was within a few steps.  And I'll miss the white: though it was hard to see in the snow, it kept reasonably cool in the summer.  The Fox is an interesting color.  It's "raspberry," a name not calculated to produce respect in most minds.  It's nice, though.  I thought it was just dark red, but in some light it has a purplish cast.
     But I won't miss the freezing temps in winter (that's with the heater on...), or the feeling of running on the ragged edge of the motor vehicle safety laws (the turn signal?  The muffler?  Yes, officer, I'll get right on them.)  I won't miss being nearly blown off the road by semis and crosswinds.  I won't miss blasting the stereo just to hear it over the engine (and my voice activated microcassette recorder was useless, because the noise kept it continuously activated--even when the muffler was intact, the wind noise at 55 was unbelievable.)  I won't miss struggling just to keep an even speed, much less accelerate, on uphill entrance ramps.  It's nice, too, not having to finesse the stick into gear.  Or having to shut the door slowly, so as not to knock the window out of its track and then spend fifteen minutes getting it back in place.
      I always felt bad subjecting others to the severe conditions of the Bus.  Now I have heat and AC and comfortable seats.  Girls say the Fox is cute, and it's much more pleasant and classy to ride in.  'Course, the Bus did have that fold-out queen-size bed in back...
     I'll always miss the Bus.  But, the VW dealer took good care of it, and now it has been sold to another Bus aficionado--friends have seen it tooling around town.  At least I know it has a good home, because after all, who would buy a Bus except someone who loves them?