After my relatively good experience with the Kadett, it might have been obvious that I should get another German car, but the truth is that it was my older brother who suggested that I consider a VW Beetle.
The Beetle has been extensively covered here at Curbside Classics including this COAL entry from JJPowers in 2019, so I won’t spend too much time on the technical aspects.
My brother made all of the usual arguments in trying to get me to look at a Beetle – they were economical, reliable, easy to work on, fun to drive, etc., but they just weren’t on my radar. I hadn’t really given the brand much thought at all. When we lived in town, an elderly neighbor had a son who stopped by at least once a week. For a couple of years, he drove an early 60s Ford Anglia.
But in 1969 he showed up in a brand new red Beetle. I vaguely remember being disappointed with the new car after seeing that Anglia show up all the time. Fast forward to spring of 1975, my brother and I were heading out for a test drive. I had spotted a 1969 Beetle listed in the local want ads, asking price $750. A bit more than I could afford but there weren’t any other listings and I was ready for a change. When we arrived, I was surprised to find that it was my old neighbor’s son selling that red Beetle. Always a good sign when you know the seller, at least that’s been my mantra.
Again, I have no photos from back then, but this picture lifted from the web is pretty close. According to TheSamba.com, the color is Royal Red. It had a black interior, 4 speed manual, fixed rear side windows. It was in pretty good shape for the miles, almost 80,000 as I recall. I still remember the smell. Is there any other car in the world that smells like a Beetle? Well yes, I suppose the Type 3 and the Karmann Ghia do.
It took me just a moment to get the hang of the down and back shift to reverse but this transmission was a definite improvement over the Kadett. I fell in love with the car, the complete German-ness of it. I paid the asking price and drove it home that evening and spent the next day or so studying the owner’s manual. I removed the chrome trim rings immediately, leaving just the hubcaps for what I felt was a much sportier appearance. Back then seat belt usage was considered optional by many and mine were grimy from laying on the floor. I scrubbed them up as best I could and made a commitment to use them. I had just gotten a job at the local full service car wash where employees could wash their cars for free. In those days the blower had a wheel that was supposed to roll up and over the car, but there was a manual lift on the air dryer just in case. If you saw a car or truck coming through that looked a bit iffy, you would hit a button that would lift the blower up over the front end or windshield. When you washed your own car it was on you to hit the lift button. I was standing there admiring my new red Beetle when the wheel on the blower smacked that flat windshield, cracking it right down the middle. The good news was that my brother was right, these Beetles were cheap to own. A new windshield only set me back $35. I changed the oil religiously, every 3,000 miles. I even bought genuine VW OEM gasket sets. Unfortunately that and keeping the spare tire inflated for the windshield washer was the limit of my car maintenance. I really am surprised at how much abuse these cars would take from me.
I do remember one time attempting to replace the fan belt and not succeeding. There was a local shop specializing in VWs about 10 miles away. I decided to drive there without the belt and have them replace it. How hot could that engine get without a fan? Apparently very hot. I pulled into their lot and 2 or 3 mechanics came running out, yelling at me in German. Fortunately, I didn’t damage the engine or did I?
Getting to know the car that first summer, I got the sense that the power was a bit off. The ‘69 came with the 1500 (1493) cc boxer engine, first available in 1967, making all of 53 HP. How I knew it wasn’t making full power is beyond me now as I think about it, but my brother convinced me all it needed was a ring job. He had been in the Navy and talked about dropping the engine on a friend’s Beetle over a weekend to replace the rings. I was set to head back to SUNY Delhi for my sophomore year in September 1975. We decided to replace the rings over Labor Day weekend, just before school started. This may have been the weekend when I stopped idolizing my big brother and came to know him as a mere mortal. We got the engine removed that Friday night, “it’s easy, there are only 4 bolts holding it in place” he says. Reading Rob and Dave’s Aircooled Volkswagen 13 step instructions on how to remove the engine, I don’t know how we survived without the internet. I know we didn’t follow half of these steps listed here.
Who starts a job like this on Labor Day weekend? Without a ring compressor? After breaking a couple of the ring assemblies, we jumped in my brother’s car and started looking for an open auto parts store. We found exactly one store in 100 miles that had the rings in stock. But we still had no tool. I think it was my idea to “trim” the springs that hold the rings in place so that we could compress them enough to slide the cylinders back in. You know this isn’t going to end well right? We got the engine back in by Monday afternoon. I hit the road Tuesday for the 150 mile trip back to SUNY Delhi. Surprisingly, at least to me, there were no issues, the car ran fine. Shortly after returning to campus, I met a freshman girl in my mandatory phys ed class. I had signed up for something I can’t remember now, but there weren’t enough others signed up to justify holding the class. I asked what else was available and was directed to Canoeing 101, which was meeting RIGHT NOW. I rushed to the class room and took a seat near the door, next to a very cute young woman. I managed to convince her that I knew something about canoeing and would make a good partner in class. We hit it off and soon were dating. It turned out that her mother drove a 1969 yellow Beetle, another point in my favor. She was on the field hockey team and I was soon driving my bug all over the Catskills to watch her play. The car ran great and I stopped worrying about our weekend ring job.
It was my practice then to recruit riders when driving home for the weekend to help pay for gas. One weekend on a cold Friday night in early December, my girlfriend, two others and I were heading back to the Corning area. We were just west of Binghamton, around 7:00 PM, making good progress on Route 17 when there was a very loud bang followed by no power. I coasted to a stop on the side of the highway and got everyone out of the car and to the safe side of the guard rail. I knew the engine was toast. We could see some farmhouse lights about a quarter mile away. We grabbed our luggage and headed across frozen pastures to what we hoped was a telephone and maybe a warm place to stay until help arrived. The couple who owned the house welcomed us in from the cold, offered us food and use of their phone. I called my mother to explain our situation and ask for a ride. My two paying customers got in touch with their families and made arrangements for getting the rest of the way home. Needless to say, I didn’t charge them for the trip. I spent the weekend making arrangements to retrieve the VW and shopping for a replacement car to get us back to school.
I’m waiting with bated breath to hear what went in your VW! My Dad’s broke a crankshaft. Despite that, he recommended I buy a Volkswagen when I first went car shopping. But I could not help thinking that most cars didn’t break crankshafts. I did wind up with a car whiose name started with “V,” though. V for Valiant, and I have always had at least one Chrysler product in the fleet ever since.
Ah, the ambitiousness of youth. Should have titled this one “Dead Ringer”
Good call. I just changed the title.
This reminds me how much I miss my old 1969 VW. My brother bought it when it was 2 years old, then left it with my Dad when he returned to college. My Dad used it to carpool to work and after I got my license we shared it. I learned how to drive on it and at every opportunity I used it to explore the surrounding towns, cities and counties. It was so dependable, reliable and cheap to run. It was great fun to drive and I quickly learned its particular handling and performance tendencies, discovered understeer and learned to be an alert, defensive driver. It would take me and my friends anywhere and in style.
One year during my January winter break from school I decided that I was going to drive up to Reno from the Bay Area to see the Harrah’s car collection (before it was broken up) I went alone because no one else was able to get away. There was a big storm moving in and it was snowing at lower elevations and getting heavier as I made my way up Hiway 80. I had bias ply tires and no chains but I knew that the Highway patrol would allow rear wheel drive cars like VWs to proceed even when everyone else had to chain up.
It was a good year for rain and there was already a deep snow pack in the mountains. I think I was about to Baxter where the CHP was directing people to chain up or turn around. I made my way up to an officer directing traffic and rolled down my window. I was about to plead my case when he looked at me and waved me through. The next thing I knew I had the whole road to myself. There was no traffic ahead of me and so much snow was falling that the road was completely covered with 3-4 inches. I could not see any other tire tracks. It was a funny feeling of elation at having the road to myself tempered a little by this being not only my first time driving in the mountains but doing it in a real winter snow storm. I immediately became conscious that I wasn’t exactly dressed for serious weather. I had a parka, boots, gloves, a hat and blue jeans. No food, a little water. I remembered that I had a couple of road flares. I took a deep breath, crossed my fingers and asked my beetle to get me to Reno. It was a beautiful drive, sometimes I couldn’t see more than 30 or 40 feet ahead. The little windshield wipers could barely handle the build up the accumulating fat snow flakes. I don’t recall being passed by a single vehicle. I held the speed to around 45 MPH until I began to descend below the storm into snow flurries under a dark grey sky and there ahead of me in the distance were the bright lights of Reno. I felt like I had arrived in a foreign country. For some reason I decided to drive onward to Sparks just because I wanted to see what a a place named Sparks looked like. From what I could see it looked mostly like a bunch of industrial parks. I exited at a rest stop because I was overdue for a piss. In my haste to get to the bathroom I managed to lock my keys in the car. I also left my parka in the car too . Holy shit! It was 23 degrees with wind and I was being soaked with freezing rain. I was 19 years old and I wanted to cry. I tried to open the vent window but had no tools. I must have been visibly distraught because a truck driver walked over to me and asked if something was wrong. “Yes” He fetched something from his truck, probably a wire and had the vent window open in about 1 minute. I was lucky. Lucky in the way that children, drunks and idiots get lucky. There was someone there to keep me from further harm. It’s happened a few times in my life. Standing in the sleety rain reminded me to find a hotel and get some diner. I got a clean $19 room at one of the casinos, can’t remember which , and got myself a $5 T-bone steak dinner made from an old boot. While I was chewing my dinner a casino manager of some kind invited himself to sit down at my table and ask how I liked the steak, “Jush fin, slittle chewy” I’m not sure what he expected to learn from talking to me. I had less than $100 on me and wasn’t going to gamble. I told him I planned to see Harrah’s Museum the next morning. “Have yourself a nice time”, he said as he got up. It sounded more like a threat. After dinner I found a dismal and horrible local bar and had a Budweiser and listened to couple of drunk old dames cackling and laughing together at the far end of the bar while the bartender and I ignored them. If you could wave the bar towel around the room and wring it out into a perfume bottle you would have a new scent to sell. It would be called “Despair!”
Next morning after my $5 all you can eat buffet breakfast I headed over to Harrah’s, bought an admission ticket and off I went. Because of the storm there weren’t any other people there, just me and the staff. And not only that but I was free to give myself an unsupervised tour. There were only velvet ropes and stanchions to keep people at a respectful distance from the cars. It was amazing! So many of the most significant collectable cars in the world were on display in a bunch of ramshackle warehouses in Reno Nevada. Bugatti Royales? Several. The Phantom Corsair? There it is. The Thomas Flyer that won the Great Race? Yup. A Ford from every year that Ford had been in production? Yes they start here and proceed chronologically row upon row around to over there. It was mind boggling. I just followed the marked pathway and when I go to the last car in the first building I opened the door to exit walk just a few steps and entered the next building full of amazing cars! Beautifully preserved or restored Chrysler 300s? Here they are from the 1955 c300 to a lovely 1965 300L. A Carrera PanAmericana winning 1954 Lincoln driven by Walt Falkner? That’s the one. Do you like Corvettes? At least one of each year. And on and on, one warehouse to the next. And then for the heck of it I took a stroll through an outdoor area full of neat stuff that wouldn’t fit inside. By this time it was 4PM. I had been walking and gawking nonstop at Harrah’s cars for almost 8 hours. I hadn’t sat down, nor eaten or drunk any water or taken a piss. I felt drained. It was time to go. I made it back to my hotel, took a shower and crashed. The next morningI drove back over the mountains. The storm had stopped and now traffic was moving fast conditions were sloppy and soon learned the joys of being blasted and splashed by wet slush and filthy streams of road water from passing cars and trucks. I think I topped up my gas tank
before I left town. My little VW got me home safe. My little VW allowed me to take of for a weekend adventure to the crazy world of decent accommodations for $19 and $5 steak dinners and have about as much fun you can have alone in a strange city. I think I spent around $60-$70 the whole weekend. I was beginning to think that owning a VW was a pretty smart thing to do especially for a poor college student.
I was thinking about this when I calculated the mileage I’m getting from my Chevy K1500 pickup. 10.5 miles to the gallon. Fucking awful. I miss that 69 VW more and more.
Thanks for sharing! Great story! A wonderful Sunday morning read!
I had a similar experience in snow with my beetle driving through the Adirondacks at night. There was about 5-6″ of unplowed snow on the roads. I was making good time, maybe too good. The car got away from me and swapped ends. I hit a snow bank going about 20 MPH. I had to pull the rear fenders back from so they would once again clear the tires but otherwise no damage. Except my legs were shaking so badly that I couldn’t depress the clutch.
What a wonderful story! Your comment is almost an article in itself – great reading!
Thank you all very kindly.
Your mention of Sparks brings back a memory. In the summer of 1970 I hitchhiked from St. Louis to San Francisco. At one point the guy I was riding with stopped at Bill and Effie’s, a truck stop, in Sparks, and we got a bite to eat. IIRC he was driving a VW bug. It struck me funny to make out a traveler’s check to “Bill and Effie’s,” but so be it. I started playing one of the nickel slot machines. On my second or third nickel, I got $2 in nickels back and quit while I was ahead.
I enjoy these VW stories because as common as these were in my youth, I have almost zero personal experience with them.
I am waiting with great anticipation to find out what happened to your poor little Red bug’s engine.
I rather doubt the rings had anything to do with your engine failure. Maybe a broken crank?
And your brother’s diagnosis was very suspect, but you probably already know that. 🙂
I don’t remember exactly what the diagnosis was but it was terminal. And yes I’ve learned to get a second opinion when expensive repairs are involved.
We never did find out what caused the crankshaft in my Dad’s VW to break, but he and his brother replaced it…as many have told about fixing VW engines, on the kitchen table!!!
The engine crapped out on my ’62 Beetle, in 1973. I never got a good explanation of what went wrong, and I never had the engine torn down, I sold the car. They told me it “lost compression.” I gather that means a blown gasket at minimum, or worse. The engine would move the car, but it sounded like a pissed off machine gun at any level of revs from starting, and anything over 20 MPH was what had to be over 100 decibels.
I vote broken valve.
Yes, likely one for # 3 if I remember correctly. It happened to me. Something about #3 overheating.
My understanding was that #3 subject to losing exhaust valves due a combination of its location in back, the configuration of the fan shroud and maybe the placement of the oil cooler. I have forgotten what the solution was but removing the fan shroud completely wasn’t it.
Dang, I’m starting to think about selling my other cars and getting another bug.
I’d like to tell you that’s a mistaken impulse, but I can’t.
A top tune would have been more appropriate after not doing one for so long its recommended at every oil change, but loud bangs and clanking sounds from VW flat fours arent uncommon.
In retrospect, it would have been money well spent. Let’s just say I didn’t know an awful lot about car repair back then.
People have trouble identifying the late-‘sixties Beetles by their exterior details. My first new car was a ’68 VW in Savannah Beige, that “sand” color. It was the first year for the new bumper, and the last year of the body-color running board. Simple.
Thanks for this. It brought back memories of the ’74 super beetle I used to drive. I could no longer smell my coffee over remembered scent of VW interior.
As for the folly of youth. Other than a bunch of 20 somethings, who in their right mind would start a weekend road trip in the coldest week of a Canadian winter by jump starting and old VW. Having never done a road trip before we had no idea how much money we would need and decided to buy a new battery after returning home. The weekend went well. Street parking on the least snow covered roads, inclines preferred, otherwise three dudes in parkas and heavy boots push starting and piling into the bug with a loud victory yell. It did get a new battery after the weekend but it just wasn’t the same.
Good chance that the #3 exhaust valve broke off and jammed that piston in the cylinder. A common delayed failure when the car is overheated without a fan belt.
I have never seen a broken crank in an air cooled VW, but I have seen a broken connecting rod make a hole in the crankcase. A broken valve or at least valve spring would not be a surprise in an engine that seriously overheated.
I like the page from the owner’s manual on the fan belt, particularly the part about always carrying a spare despite the fact that the life expectancy is high.
Can’t say I ever knew that there was a way to adjust the tension by varying the spacing between the halves of the pulley. The way we changed the back in the day was to roll them on and off. If you are brave you can do it with the engine running but the concept is the same. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BQhfcdQf1QA
Of course some people say that rolling it on is bad for the belt and not the way to do it but fact is that is now the official and only way to change the belt on some modern cars with a “stretch to fit” belt and they now have tools for it. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5mrB5mH3qBo
My best friend in high school’s mom had a red convertible VW Beetle. I learned how to drive stick on that car. I had my license and he didn’t. She just tossed me the keys and said “You got to learn sometime. Go have fun.” She was the epitome of a cool mom. So off he and I went, totally fearless. Kind of got a bit sideways going around a traffic circle (it was raining), but just let off the gas and it straightened right up. Couldn’t figure out how to get the damn thing into reverse, so we ended up pushing it to get it parked. Didn’t know about the push down on the gearshift thing. She gave it to him after he got his licence and did we have some great times in that car. He took a curve too fast in the rain and ended up crunching the right front fender. Got a new primer gray one and bolted it right on. He drove it like that for years. Thanks for sparking some great memories.
Seems like a shame you changed the oil religiously every 3000 miles, but missed the part about adjusting the valves at the same time. I thought that interval excessively short for valves, but did them every 6000 or so on my (actually, parent’s) 1966 1300 Beetle. When I finished university, one of my younger sisters took it to her school, and it ran sweetly for many more miles. As Roader wrote, failure of the susceptible #3 valve, either from overheating and/or lack of periodic adjustment, likely caused your breakdown.
If you want to make any old machine run better adjusting the valves is the first step. I learned this from air-cooled motorcycles. I could always run the living crap out of one and it wouldn’t drop a valve as long as the clearances were within spec.
Air-cooled VW gurus swear by 1000 mile valve adjustments but that’s a bit excessive. At the 3000 mile oil change a valve adjustment should be seen as regular maintenance, which on a VW is. Germans have always built fine machines that need proper care to function properly.
A friend’s brother convinced my friend that his Datsun needed “rings.” It didn’t seem all that down on power and the Nissan A series engine is pretty bulletproof. It never ran right after the “rebuild” and expired about 20,000 km later.
I was also lucky enough to visit Harrah’s in June of 1980. It was one of the most sensory overload experiences I’ve ever had…. (and no chemical enhancement !). I have a soft spot for the Beetle too. It was the first new car my Dad bought (1962). He took meticulous care of it but it was rear ended in 1967 and totaled. He bought a used ’66 after that but it had some electrical problems irrc.
Not only was it an overwhelming sensory overload it was unpretentious and devoid of attitude. Thank the Creator of Everything for Bill Harrah. He started collecting and preserving old cars long before anyone thought there was any value to them. He had the vision to assemble a collection and immense library of automotive documents and set up a top restoration department. And most of all he wanted to share it all with everyone. For a simple and cheap admission ticket (I want to say it was around $8-10 bucks) you could see it all. You could also make use of the library or have the staff look something up for you. I ran out of time to see it when I was there.
The whole thing was great and grand and yet unpretentious as I said. It was a bunch of warehouses with some set dressing to nicely set off some of the cars. Mostly it was really nice, rare or one of a kind cars behind ropes. The level of trust was amazing. There wasn’t anything to keep patrons from swarming over the cars except the ropes. There weren’t attendants keeping watch that I could see. I did notice a few basic cctv cameras positioned above the entrance and exit doors. No doubt there were additional levels of security. Bill Harrah was in the Casino business after all. Whatever it was it was totally unobtrusive. It seems that they trusted people to behave and evidently people did. Nowadays you couldn’t do it like this.
I haven’t seen what’s left of the collection since Mr. Harrah’s death and the subsequent sell off. I think Harrah built this collection for fun as much as anything else. It was fun and was as much a tourist attraction as it was a porch light for all the car geek moths. Harrah’s collection as much as anything else facilitated tremendous interest in collecting old cars. This in turn helped grow the hobby into new businesses. This brought economic growth but also people who were primarily interested in money but cars not so much. Everything changed but so what else is new? I am really glad I made that trip.
My first new car was a 1969 Beetle. It was my third Beetle; I traded in a 1963 for which they allotted $445.50. Beetles held their value pretty well as your $750 price for a 80K example in 1975 also shows. Because my 1969 was a dead ringer for yours, I’ll provide a picture for you (and the sales receipt when new). The only options were a radio and whitewall tires.
I traded my car in three years later so never experienced major drive train problems but there were a lot of issues that had to be addressed under warranty, including a defective radio and throw out bearing in the first two weeks. VW quality was starting to decline by then. The biggest problem I had at the time was the dealership which provided atrocious service – so bad that I’ve never bought another VW even though I really like some of their current products.
Equipped exactly like mine except mine was green. I should dig out a photo of it. A little surprised to hear about your dealer service problems. Ours required minimal service and the few dealer experiences were good but that was the SF Bay Area which is very competitive especially for foreign cars. Lee Bowman Volkswagen in Concord California was the nearest and had a good reputation.
Same here in the Los Angeles area. VW dealers may have outnumbered Ford dealerships at that time. Riviera VW in Manhattan Beach had superb parts and service departments.
@CaGuy ;
Your Beetle is listed on the invoice as a sun roof model .
I like reading the mostly positive VW Beetle comments .
Indeed they were cheap and cheerful and if you took care of them dead nuts reliable .
VWoA used Bendix radios then, a rare failure you had .
The #3 exhaust valve didn’t get the full flow of cooling air due to the oil cooler’s placement, because VW Ag. cheaper out and used two piece valves to $ave a few pennies per car, the heads came off when they were over heated .
Stainless steel once piece valves are the normal replacement during periodic overhaul .
1969 was the first year of fully independent rear suspension, previously they had swing axles .
-Nate
Nate: the 1171 code at the bottom is in regard to the trade-in though it too would have been a typing error because neither car had a sun roof. Typical of the mistakes this dealership made from day one. The other dealership across town – Evans Motors – had a much better reputation.
The 69 indeed did have a Bendix radio. IIRC they changed it out and there was still a problem and it was found that the faulty part was a bad antenna. Typical of the dealership’s lack of diagnostic skills. When it was all sorted out I was quite happy with the radio’s performance.
Note on the invoice that Indiana had a new vehicle inspection fee of $2.50. My Dad was in a snit because when the guy backed the brand new car out of the service bay it had its inspection sticker affixed to the windshield but one of the back-up lights was not working. Some inspection, my Dad huffed.
The new rear suspension was a great improvement. The 69 overall was a significant change from my 63 and 60 models. More power, better insulation, little things like an exterior fuel filler door, and improved heater and defroster air distribution, and an electric rear window defogger/de-icer.
IRS came with the Autostick models for ’68. My ’67 with widened rear track, Z bar and other suspension tuning, tamed the swing axle setup.
Now, having a ’69 Ghia and ’74 Thing, both with IRS, make me long for swing axles when it comes to servicing rear wheel bearings.
My Dad’s first “2nd” car was a ’59 Beetle, red like yours. We were living the next state over, in Burlington, Vt., and he didn’t keep the car long, as it was totalled when parked in front of our house (we had 1 car garage/driveway and the Beetle was typically parked in the street). The car was pretty rusty by that time; the battery had corroded the floor under the rear seat and the rest of the body wasn’t doing much better (but the engine was just fine).
He replaced it with a new ’68 Renault R10.