A ‘Foreign Car”—No Way!

My first car was a VW Bug. When I laid eyes on her I could have cried—but not with tears of joy. I thought it was the ugliest thing I had seen in my life.  While going to school and working weekends at the local drive-through I had managed to save $200. I asked Dad to keep his eye out for a car. I don’t know what I was expecting but it certainly wasn’t this.

Dad came from a generation of Canadians who were loyal to the American auto industry. Purchase a “foreign car”—no way!  He must have forgotten his loyalties when he laid eyes on the Beetle.

I would soon discover that the bug has a way of growing on you, especially once you get behind the wheel. It cost about three dollars to fill the tank and with a load of girlfriends, the weight giving the bug extra traction, the Beetle could go anywhere, regardless of snow and ice during the winter.  When I married the only worldly possessions I brought to the union were my clothes, my contact lenses and my beloved Beetle.

I sold my VW and bought a sewing machine when we moved to Nakusp. The reason—I can’t live without a sewing machine. We purchased another Beetle when I began working at a job in town. This was the Beetle that would take us across Canada.

The Cypress Hills in Alberta.

Was your first love a VW Beetle? Let me know.