The VW Beetle has always loomed large over my life. Now, I’ve finally had the chance to experience one of these machines for myself. The story of how this particular 1971 VW Super Beetle convertible came into my familial sphere requires a bit of a background on my mother, and the recent loss of my uncle.
My mother was briefly the proud owner of a 1974 Super Beetle during her early 20s. As a self-proclaimed second-generation hippie, the VW’s synonymy with peace, love and fun piqued her automotive interest. After my mom went away to college, my grandmother packed up and moved across the country to San Diego. It was there that my mother’s long search for a fitting Beetle came to an end. Answering an ad in my grandmother’s local paper, my mother flew to California with a cashiers check for $2300 to scoop up her dream car. Joined by her own mother, the pair would then begin the long journey across the United States. That ambitious journey would make it about as far as Barstow, California. It was there that the Beetle's gearbox made its last shift. With little escape from the daytime heat of the Mojave Desert, the local mechanics explained that the necessary repairs could only be made at night. My mother always believed this explanation, while my grandmother perhaps more accurately assumed something else was afoot, recalling many midnight trips to the parts store. Either way, the pair were back on the road a few days later with a “new” gearbox installed under the cover of darkness, and a fitting name for the Beetle: Barstow.
Unfortunately Barstow didn’t stay with my mother for very long. Shortly before I was born, my mother decided it was time to move on from the aging air-cooled classic and sold it. My mom never really let Barstow go.
For as long as I can remember, she told me stories from her days as a classic car owner. She would joke that the car’s 58 horsepower was barely enough to tackle Michigan’s board-flat roads, and that we would’ve loved to have seen her ripping the Bug over the Rockies. Photo albums from the time were always chastised for their lack of Barstow photos, as my mother believes she never photographed the car. For years we’d stop to look at every Beetle with a for sale sign affixed, only to push that dream down the road time and again. That is the nature of parenthood, though it was always clear to the rest of us that a Beetle was missing from mom’s life.
With their children now grown, my parents have started to indulge their interests for what feels like the first time in three decades. They’ve taken it upon themselves to enjoy the lives they have, though I wish I could say that change all came from a joyous place. Last year, my uncle Brent was diagnosed with stage IV cancer. My father’s cousin by birth, Brent grew up with my dad after losing his own father at a young age. The two were inseparable, doing everything together, from playing high school basketball to building up a family business. The two even dated together, marrying a pair of friends from the next town over. My mother and Steph gave birth to their first children a couple months apart, further pulling the two growing families together. They would go on to have three kids, tactically short of my parents' four. The debate about who was right there continues today.
As things tend to go, life would ultimately see the two Bell households spending less time together. Brent eventually moved on from the family business, while us kids followed our own paths forward. Regardless, I know we all always cherished Brent and Steph and the role they played in our lives. When my mother called to tell me that Brent was sick, it was clear how shaken my parents were. Over the next year, I got to watch as that tragedy brought the four closer together again, and my parents' mindset began to shift. They came to realize that life is too short not to chase the things that make us happy.
In his last message exchange with my father, Brent chose to keep looking for that happiness. He sent my father a link to yet another Beetle that had come up for sale locally, remarking that it was exactly the sort of thing my mother would love to own. He passed away at home shortly thereafter. In the days leading up to Brent’s memorial service, my father decided that he would go and purchase that Beetle to arrive in. A final nod to Brent’s influence on their lives.
The car was brought to Michigan from California in 2018 by an older gentleman as a gift to his dying wife. She had picked him up for their first date in a ‘71 Super Beetle. He wanted to have the car restored for weekend cruises. While the restoration work was being done by a local VW speciality shop, the wife passed away before ever getting the chance to take that cruise. It sat garaged for two years before he could bring himself to unload the car upon its completion, selling it on to my father for the entirety of his $11,000 asking price. Not one cent less.
While it isn’t visually perfect, everything mechanical on this Super Beetle has been professionally addressed. The motor is a freshly rebuilt unit, which now wears an upgraded Weber carburetor. The engine fires on a single click of the starter, presenting the oh-so-clattery flat-four roar we all love. With no tachometer to clutter your thoughts, the engine pulls with more oomph than the 60 hp and 82 lb-ft output might suggest. The four-speed manual gearbox slots into each gear nicely, though finding reverse has proved to be a great challenge for the uninitiated among us. All new suspension components have been installed on both axles, which inspires plenty of confidence in the bends. The unassisted drum brakes that handle stopping duties do not. All in all, it's as nice an example of a Beetle as I’ve seen up close, with room for some improvement. A vintage-style Blaupunkt radio is slated to replace a properly 1990s head unit, while some minor dashboard repairs round out the list. Beyond that, the car will be used and enjoyed. Mom already has her list of cars and coffee events lined up for the summer.
It brings me incredible joy to see my mother reignite her love for cars, and to be in a place in life where she can do that. That said, the Beetle will always carry the weight of Brent’s passing with it. The car will serve as a reminder to never take your loved ones for granted, and the importance of chasing our dreams. Regardless, I do believe Brent sent that link in an effort to remind my parents to continue enjoying their lives. I hope the Beetle is just the first chapter of that journey.
Born and raised in Metro Detroit, associate editor Lucas Bell has spent his entire life surrounded by the automotive industry. He may daily drive an aging Mustang, but his Porsche 944 and NB Miata both take up most of his free time.
