I asked my sister about the trip we took to Disneyland in a Volkswagen bus when I was four. Her answers were single words, mostly.
Now, I’m sitting here thinking about the role of the VW in my childhood. And the larger American psyche. The VW Beetle was revolutionary in a lot of ways. After the beefy American muscle cars of the 50s and WWII military dominance, here comes this quirky little German car. A toy in comparison.
Krone knew the market in America would be a different story. Exactly two Beetles had been sold in 1949, the first year the car was available in the States. By the time the account came to his ad agency in 1959, it had yet to make a dent in an auto market dominated by hulking vehicles and domestic manufacturers. It was small, odd, and had a heritage uncomfortably aligned with the Nazi regime.
All of which is totally in line with the counterculture life my mother left her privileged upbringing in St. Louis for. All in line with my beatnik, ski bum dad. All in line with the owner of the Volkswagen bus we drove to California in – Steve Benson – a philosophy professor to whom my mother was engaged when she died, the man who drove my mother and her four daughters (my brother stayed home) across the American West for a summer vacation in 1971.
The ad tapped into a sense of disconnect that the public was feeling as a result of being pressured to buy and consume for so many years. This was especially felt by younger people. Those born after the Second World War saw their parents encouraged to buy and consume their way to happiness and they rejected this (to a large degree). The Think Small campaign was created just as this voice was starting to make its presence heard — it would be heard loudly throughout the sixties. The Volkswagen Beetle became an integral part of the counter culture in America, helped in large part by the highly effective advertising DDB kept producing.
– The Ad That Changed Advertising: The Story Behind Volkwagen’s Think Small Campaign
Which reminds me of another trip I took to California in a Volkswagen. This time in a 1978 VW Scirocco with Seth, Laura Lee, and my two nieces, Tiffany and Michelle. It was 1983 and I was 16. I remember lying not exactly stretched out in the hatchback (I was 5’ 9” tall by then) and the car breaking down somewhere in the Arizona desert, the five of us sweltering amongst sand and cacti as we waited for help. I have some fond memories of that trip, but, as usual, felt like an outsider in my brother’s family: a weed amongst flowers, a bike on a freeway. I knew my brother loved me, but my sister-in-law did not. I have the feeling that my presence was a constant source of conflict between them. Her absence – my mother’s – far more tangible than her physical presence might have been.
Like my siblings, though, Volkswagens have been a steady part of my life. I hate cars for the most part, but here’s an ode to the VWs I knew:
The taupe Beetle my mother had before she died. Was I brought home from the hospital in a VW? I’ll have to ask.
Steve's new VW Bus that took us to California and back.
Seth and Laura Lee’s VW Scirocco that took us part way to California and back.
Megan’s orange VW Beetle that we drove all over southern Colorado’s snowy highways after I moved out of my brother’s house into hers due to conflicts with my sister-in-law. Damn, siblings are as good in crisis as VWs are in snow!
My college friend Lynda’s brand new 1999 VW Passat. As a single mother, I couldn’t afford one and was so jealous!
My BFF Laura’s 2000-something black VW Jetta. She used to pick me up in the alley when I was in grad school and drop me off for class at UW, heading to her job at Seattle Children’s right after.
My current 2013 manual transmission VW Tiguan: six on the floor, bay-bee! Will hates this car (he prefers Japanese cars to German ones) but I love it, even though it can be a pain to drive when starting from a dead stop on one of Seattle’s steep hills.
How many Volkswagens can you claim?
Shifting.
Things That Nourished My Writing: September 1-15.
FASHION
This leather jacket looks pretty perfecto to me.
FOOD
FILM-ISH
Barbara Lee: Speaking Truth to Power
LITERARY
People Before Profit by Ken Koopman
MUSIC
He Would Have Laughed. Who knows? I might have, too.
Our guitar + piano instructor, Lucas Tayne.
PLACES
Oslo’s Chesterfield leather armchair where I sit each morning to write. It’s been four years since he died and I miss him just as much.
I love this, Sparky. My dad drove a ‘64 bug that was a pale blue. It had chrome metal bumpers that were shiny, but would have proved of little value in a crash. The dash had chrome trim around the speedometer and it had an AM radio. The car’s few control knobs were grey plastic and had a distinctive feel when you pulled them out to turn on the headlights or the wipers. And it had a distinctive smell, not unpleasant. Burlap, mint chewing gum and a slight hint of gasoline. And of course, a floor shifter with a simple cream colored knob that assumed the driver knew where each of the four gears could be found. The sound? Forever burned into my memory. The sound of excitement, family members on the move, adventure; like the the sound of a powerful, but reliable sewing machine.