Specializing in Volkswagen Repair & Parts

Volkswagens have always had a cult following, especially the Beetle. However, recently the VW Bus has nudged the Beetle out of the way in terms of popularity. I see more and more Buses incorporated into home decor, clothing, stickers, advertising, etc.

It’s surreal.

Dad with a rescued blacksnake at the shop.

I am the daughter of a VW mechanic (John’s Auto Repair & Parts); growing up, I spent quite a lot of time at the shop, hanging around, watching my dad and his mechanics working (and likely bugging the crap out of them). Archie, Ronnie, Danny, and Lucky were nearly constant figures in my childhood, their light blue and navy uniforms, each bearing a patch with their name over the front pocket and a faded red rag hanging from the back pocket of their pants.

There were a couple other mechanics over the years who didn’t stay for various reasons. Big John, a tall, muscular bear of a man who I didn’t find the least bit intimidating, would let me hang from his biceps. The Johnny Cash-loving guy who drove one of the oldest, loveliest Beetles I’d ever seen, (1950s model, split windshield, light gray) was a phenomenal mechanic but didn’t work fast enough to meet demands. Finally, one of Danny’s relations, who came to work for dad in the final years of the business.

The shop smelled of grease, kerosene from the parts-cleaning tub, the oily hand cleanser in the bathroom, and country cooking from the 29 Diner next door.

Revving engines, air ratchets, hissing air hoses, whining car lifts, the ringing telephone, classic rock, the men’s banter, laughter, and shouting over all the noise was the soundtrack on the days I spent there. In winter, roaring rocket engine-looking kerosene heaters warmed the bays.

Over the years I noticed a cast of loyal customers who would hang out at the shop while their cars were fixed or just stop in for a visit: Mr. Joe Duvall, who drove a Beetle and had to fold himself inside it because he was so tall. He had a German Shepherd who took up the entire backseat and yes, he was related to Robert (Mr. Duvall, not the Shepherd). The Dominoes delivery guy who drove a brown Dasher and paid in stacks of small bills. Darryl Green, who had a Beetle, I think, would often give (or trade for services rendered, perhaps) my dad tickets to ‘Skins games, various clothing, and would sign an autograph for me each time my dad asked. There was Billy Bro, one of the most cheerful people I’ve met. If I remember correctly, he had both a Beetle and a Harley. What I recall better than what he drove was his dazzling smile.

I’ve seen all manner of VW. A Thing, a motorcycle-Beetle hybrid, dune buggies. In high school, when I “accidentally” missed the bus, my dad sometimes drove me in a customer’s VW he’d brought home for a test drive to make sure it was running right. During the times I “worked” there, I was occasionally sent on test drives or to pick up customers (the Karmann Ghia was my favorite out of that bunch). Mostly, though, I answered the phone and stripped junk cars for parts with Lucky.

It was at the shop where I discovered and fell in love with a white 1969 Bus. It was a camper with a pop-top. My dad fixed it up for me: new upholstery, front seats from a ’72 because the ’69 didn’t have a headrest; glossy new paint job; overhauled motor and transmission, additional oil pan to prevent overheating, he even insulated the heater’s workings so warmth wouldn’t be lost on the way from the engine to the interior.

Me, Sadie the pup, Bus in background

At night I loved to drive down Route 50 toward Arcola,  listening to the engine as it opened up, purred, and blatted in a way only old VWs can. It’s one of my favorite sounds (the 351 Ford engine in my 1986 Mastercraft Competition Ski boat is another).

I drove various VWs until my dad sold the business in 1997. He came to me shortly thereafter and asked if I wanted a car other than a VW. My immediate response was, “Jeep.”

I loved my Bus. I wish I still had it, and not because it would be worth a ton, now. I wish I still had it because it was a beautiful piece of machinery with a simple engine. It was restored with love for me, by my dad. I even lived in it

In Marietta

for about a month when I first moved to Marietta, Georgia, until I found an apartment. I never traveled the country in it as I’d planned to do, but I did visit various friends and family members around the south.

I have lovely memories from my Bus. And each time I see a welcome mat, a dish towel, a t-shirt, a coffee mug decorated with a Bus, I think oh, how I miss you, old friend.