the little bug that could

in all its powder glory: westie my beetlebum

my dad recently gave me an ultimatum. it's either i have my '67 beetle fixed or it's the end of life for my beloved westie. so, i had no choice but to call my mechanic to get an estimate on my baby so he can run again.

i received my first car when i turned 16. there it was, sitting on my dad's garage, a 1967 volkswagen beetle the morning of my birthday. it looked like it had been previously used by a crash test dummy, the color was horrendus (puke green) but it was a running car, and i was the first one in my circle of friends to have a car so i was so proud of it. i knew the moment i laid my eyes on him that he was the one--my baby.

a year later my dad decided to have it repainted, since the paint was peeling off and everything (like i said earlier, it was a sorry looking car). so the big color hunt began. my mom wanted to paint the whole thing purple, with black interior and everything, but me and my dad told her that i don't want to drive around looking like a giant grape. my dad wanted to paint it candy apple red, with white interior, but i told him it looked too common. with being the drama queen that i am, i wanted to paint the bug pale blue--with baby pink interior, which my parents hated, thus starting the "great color debate". the bickering actually went on for weeks 'till my dad got so pissed off and told the paint guy: "just paint the whole damn thing white!" so you could imagine my horror when i woke up one day and saw it: everything was white! it looked like a refrigerator! my bestfriend thought it was funny to name the bug white westinghouse (after the 'fridge brand) which later evolved to the nickname westie.

i used westie to go everywhere, and i felt so independent and grown up and everything. nevermind that it didn't have air conditioning or that it conks out 90% of the time, it was a car and it was all mine. so now, 6 years and 2 major car crashes later (i broke my left wrist on the first one, and my right on the 2nd one) westie finally retired to my dad's garage, since i developed a phobia for driving after my last car crash. my thought was i would just let westie sit there until i was ready to drive again, or so i thought.

my dad was approached by a beetle collector two weeks ago and he was offering a pretty good deal for my baby westie. my dad told me about it, and i said no f*ckin way. i wouldn't sell my pride and joy, any amount of money would not be enough to buy my precious (no pun intended). thus, my dad gave me the ultimatum: it's either fix the car or get rid of it. that's why i have no choice but to restore it and hopefully drive it after, even though everyone thinks i'm crazy and tells me i should just buy a brand new car. but i guess it's just really hard to part with something that has been a part of you for so long. i know, it's dramatic but hey, i'm not called the drama queen for nothin'.