Wanted: Beetle Exorcism

As our loyal blog followers know, I convinced Stacie that we should buy a vintage VW Beetle upon returning from Scotland (which we named Abba). My logic, sound as always, was based on several facts. First, we didn't have a car (or job at that point) to return to and I knew we could find a Beetle on the cheap. Second, a Beetle was my first car so I have mechanical experience with it along with a sentimental soft spot in my heart. Third, I argued that no matter what goes wrong with those cars the fix is always inexpensive, particularly since I could do it myself. You now have the backstory.

My company provided me with a car, so Stacie has been the primary Beetle driver. The car rarely sees the highway (intentionally!) and is used as little as possible. Still, I've been feeling guilty driving a brand new car while she's rolling a glorified German go-cart with safety features that are rudimentary at best. The AM only radio is pretty sweet though. This week I talked her into letting me put some time behind the VW wheel and I was rewarded with an attempt on my life. Not by Stacie, by the car.

While leaving the Wachovia bank parking lot on Tuesday, I accelerated normally to get into the flow of traffic. For anyone who's not experienced driving an old Beetle that means I pegged it in an attempt to utilize all of the 60 horsepower the engine can generate. Once I got into traffic, I let off the accelerator but to my bewilderment the car continued to pick-up speed. 'No worries' I thought, I'll just wiggle the gas peddle as it's probably stuck. You see, the gas pedal is literally connected to the carburetor by a thin cable. Your foot moves down, the carb mouth opens and drinks sweet petrol and the engine goes faster. Here's where it gets hairy, the pedal wasn't stuck, the cable had snapped while I was flooring it so the car was literally in perpetual wide open! I pushed in the clutch to get into neutral but the engine was screaming at me louder than I could bear so I jammed it back into 4th and was off to the races. My only option was to find a place to pull over and cut the engine but it was raining like crazy so my options were limited.

I was flying through traffic like a madman (someone may have though I'd stolen the car and was running from the police if I were in something other than a 1973 Beetle!). Working the clutch in and out while literally standing on the brake I felt like Jeff Gordon flying through an office park near my work. I finally found an covered parking area and screeched around the corner, e-braking it into a parking spot and turning off the key. Heart pounding and half chuckling at the thought of how ridiculous I must have looked flying through the parking lot I called Stacie for a ride back to work.

Having survived the Beetle's attempt on my life I'm happy to say that my original argument for buying the car has been validated. Not only can we fix the car ourselves but a new throttle cable kit only set us back $17.99. Shipping the parts was actually the most expensive part. So for now Abba is sitting in the driveway reflecting on what he did to me while I wait for the parts to arrive so we can get back on the road.

-Kyle