The Volkswagon

I was reminded about a comical event that took place when Gail and I arrived at our duty station at Sembach AFB in Germany. Since we lived off-base, it was necessary to procure some mode of transportation, but we did not have much money. I eventually found and purchased an older Volkswagon that should have been scrapped right after WWII. It was in dismal shape, but the engine ran good so I decided to put some effort into it and clean it up. The first thing I did was requisition 40 or 50 cans of spray paint (gloss black) from the base supply. I spent a couple of days applying several coats to cover up all the blemishes and rust and the final product was not as bad as you might think.

To get a permit that would allow me to drive the vehicle on the military base, I had to have it inspected by the commanding officer. On the day of my appointment, nothing worked right but I thought I would give it a shot anyway. When it came time to check the turn signals, which were inoperable, I worked the lever manually while the inspector dutifully went from right to left and front to rear confirming that they were, indeed, blinking. Check! When he wanted to see the brake lights work, I just turned the lights on and off, but to the inspector it looked like I was intermittently pressing on the brakes. Check! So far so good. Next came the emergency brake, which was a useless floppy lever located between the seats. With a forceful looking yank I pulled the lever into position and thankfully, it staid there. Unbeknown to the inspector, I had put the vehicle in 4th gear, so when I released the clutch, the engine bogged down like it was struggling against the emergency brake, voila’, another passing grade. Check! The final test was for the horn, and I still have trouble to this day believing that I got away with this one. When the inspector asked to hear the horn, I pressed the button on the steering wheel and, vocally voiced a “beep” sound. To my surprise, the inspector checked off that task and I had passed the test without a single one of the items working properly. We drove that rattletrap for the next two years.