Review: Volkswagen New Beetle 2.5

Once upon a time, a man called Porsche had a task of creating a small, economical car that all his countrymen could afford. And in 1938, production of his invention began – first called the “strength-through-joy car” (KdF-Wagen) because of politics at the time. After a few key years, it was renamed to Volkswagen Type 1, known to the rest of us as the original Volkswagen Beetle.

Now, Volkswagen has decided to create a 21^st-century Beetle, taking all the design cues from the Type 1 and fitting them to the Golf VI platform.

This effort resulted in a car that takes the best out of an almost eighty-year-old design and makes it look masculine and sporty, while still clearly showing its roots. The performance of the highest model is practically identical to Volkswagen’s own Golf GTI sport hatchback, a car historically renowned for the grin it provokes as you sit behind the steering wheel.

But this isn’t it.

The subject of this review is instead the New Beetle – which is now the old one, but not that old one.

Harmonic D-minor

(A good ear is necessary.)

Step by step, the Fića is getting to the point where it should have been some time ago.

Modern cars have a robot computer that works as a knock sensor, electronic fuel injection, and on-board diagnostics. In the Fića – and other cars of its vintage – the car relies on you for all of that.

The interesting bit is that only basic mechanical knowledge is a prerequisite. The majority of the skills you need can be found in someone who tunes instruments...

In other words, if you know how to use an acoustic resonator (tuning fork) to tune an instrument, you will know how to be the car's fuel injection.

Special delivery

I woke up early this morning to the sound of my own doorbell. In my neighborhood, that combination of events can only mean one thing: a package has arrived. And, unless I have a secret admirer, there could only be one thing in that package: a reason to put pants on and run down the stairs before the uniformed man leaves a paper tag on my front door.

Fortunately, this mailman has made deliveries to my house before, so he knows to wait a couple extra minutes whilst I try and remember my own name before I open the door.

Third gear

I fixed the temperature gauge!

I consulted the knowledgeable about the gauge not working. Not only did I find out how to fix it, but I also found out some facts about my Fića that shed more light onto why it wasn't working.

The first thing is that my Fića did not come from the factory with a temperature gauge. As a matter of fact, none of them did until 1978, which was when Zastava first started to equip Fićas with them.

Until then, all Fićas had to make do with just the warning light. The thing is, having only the warning light is about the same as having nothing at all...

Second gear

(Spot the difference.)

After the Fića got back from the mechanic, I resumed my usual schedule of running it every couple of days, to keep the battery full. The first time I did that post-repair, the Fića hesitated to start, made popping noises from its exhaust pipe (don't we all), leaked fluid, produced a coarser engine sound, and promptly stalled the instant it was left to idle on its own (sans foot-to-pedal contact).

And yet, this was all supposed to happen.

Gremlinbusters, part III

(Which one does not belong?)

Sunrise. All is calm in a particular town in BC. The more-than-fashonably late summer season has stuck around for a few days already. Somewhere, in a semi-industrial sector lies a shop, one that specializes in Italian cars. The shop's been there for quite some time, yet there's something there that doesn't fit – something that shouldn't belong, but does anyway.