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I Couldn’t Even Give the Little Guy Away!

Ronnie Lambert

My sickness with VWs started when I was about 4 years old. My mother was sick so she (to get me out the house) sent me to church with our neighbor. My neighbors brand new 1991 Pontiac wouldn't start. She was in her upper seventies and was NOT going to miss church.

She had me wait patiently as she messed with this old car under a cover in her garage. Turns out, under that cover was a fully original 1965 VW Beetle that her late husband bought new. All I knew was this cool little white car started up like it had just been driven and off we go to church! Since that day I thought Volkswagens were the greatest cars on the road; I had to have one.

When I was 10, my grandmother bought me a ragged out 1971 standard to have in the yard, just to shut me up! That led to a 1968 that I bought in high school. It was completely done for. So rusted I needed lower trunk pans, front axle, rear valances, etc. So I started looking for a parts car! A friend of mine knew of an old Beetle that was fairly decent and the owner wanted to sell. It ran, but that was all I knew.

I show up and there sets a 1971 SUPER Beetle! “A supe? Ugh, gross – nobody wants a super,” was all I could think as I got back in my Rabbit and drove home. Well, as stories turn, I did get my Beetle on the road and restored it fully. All brand new metal, seals paint. I put thousands into it.

That little Super – through ways of a trade – ended up in my barn, sans motor and transmission. I tried to give him away to several people who wanted to get into the hobby and nobody would take him! A free Beetle! Nobody wanted the little guy with NO rust! He was a perfect little car but he was a Super, so there he sat unloved.

On a beautiful summer day, driving down a country road a drunk driver pulled out in front of me, my right front tire clipped the culvert pipe as I hit him and sent me and my black 1968 rolling. We flipped end over end, side to side, and eventually landed on our wheels. I actually drove it back off the highway. As the days went by, my dad reminded me that the motor and trans in that 1968 would fit in that Super if I wanted a Beetle again. Reluctantly, I did the unthinkable, and started to work on this Super Beetle.

Now, after almost 6 years of being a daily driver, my first real Beetle (I only enjoyed 30 days on the road with my 1968), this little Super means more to me than anything I could have ever hoped for. It’s not a perfect restored car like my 1968 was, but he has so much more personality as a clean driver. The neighbors 1965 still resides in the garage next to my parents as well. Moral of the story: whether it’s a standard or a Super, the Beetle that’s meant to be mine, is mine and other than losing my 1968, I wouldn't change a thing! Keep ‘em on the road!

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