Trashed Bug by Paul Greco

All things must pass. That’s what I’ve been told. There were always mixed emotions when the time came to dispose of an Old Bug. It was exciting to upgrade to a newer car, but at the same time, the memories of all the good times in the old one made it hard to let it go. Of course, it wouldn’t be gone completely, as anything even remotely useful would be removed and saved for some future need, but at some point, a majority of the bulk would have to go to the boneyard. This would occur periodically, as I sought to improve the state of my Volkswagen existence. I’ve always told people that my house is bought and paid for because I owned a Volkswagen. I cannot remember ever actually purchasing a part for these cars. As my mechanical ability and store of old parts grew, there never seemed to be any condition which could not be overcome. But there would still be the matter of the disposal of excess Bugs. I'd keep them around for a while so the local kids could play in them and to be absolutely sure there wasn’t an item missed that might be put to some future use. Ultimately, though, they HAD TO GO. I have many memories of the fun and friendship attached to the lovable Bug, but many of the most vivid are related to The trip to the Junk Yard. And this is where the story begins. My garage was known as the off-the-path hangout and general repair station where many hours with my friends were spent in an intoxicated haze resulting from the various water pipes and bongs stored among the mechanics tools. (After all, it was the tail end of the 60’s and we were waggin’ it for all it was worth!) It was one of those typical sunny Saturday afternoons when the smoke rising out of the open doors was especially thick, that the creative juices started flowing: "Hey, let’s drag the Old Bug down to the junkyard!" In the past, I would find a volunteer and tie a rope to the van (a full size Ford) and tow it. This process was always nerve-wracking as we never really had a good towrope. On this day, a brainstorm occurred: "Why don’t we PUSH IT?" No one gave it a second thought and a few people fought over who would get to drive the Bug (of course, they didn’t have driver’s licenses). We piled in the van and began our little trip. Things were going well as I settled into a rhythm of getting up to speed and backing off to let the Bug coast to the next red light. We were about half way there when boredom and extraneous influences took control of my judgement. It was a particularly long and open stretch of road that I decided "Let’s see what this sucker will do!" and gassed it. As we rounded the mild curve, I saw the red light ahead. I backed off and let the Bug coast away. This intersection was the entrance to the State Mental Hospital and on the weekend would be particularly inactive. It also happened to be a recently installed traffic signal and I found myself growing resentful at this intrusion to what was once open road. It was then, in a moment of clouded and defiant thinking that I decided "I’m NOT stopping!" The Bug continued to coast ahead and stopped next to a waiting car. Now my friend in the bug was the kind of guy who had a zest for living and I can only imagine him with his arm out the open window beaming a smile to the people in the other car who were thinking "Ooh, look, a Beetle! Isn’t it cute!" It was then that the van slammed into the back of that helpless Volkswagen and tossed it into the middle of the intersection, cue-ball style, leaving the van in the position formerly occupied by the displaced Bug! I turned to the people in the car next to me only to see the look of complete shock and horror on their once serene faces! I widened my eyes and gave them the most maniacal smile I could muster! Their trauma and anxiety was short lived as the light changed, and continuing my look of nonchalance, I nailed the gas, rammed into the Bug again and continued to push it down the road. A routine check of my rear view mirror caused me to contemplate their situation as I noticed they were still sitting at that green light. Realizing that I may have stepped over the line on that one, I made a promise to the Universe that I would not do anything like that again (yeah). The yard was only a few turns and a short distance away, but I pushed that little Bug with wild abandon. My friend was also a particularly stoic and macho kind of guy (he went on to become a decorated NYC fireman) but didn’t have anything to say when he exited the now crumpled and folded VW. I can only assume that the longest and meanest dirty look I have ever received was his way of saying that he didn’t appreciate the ride. The junk man reluctantly gave me ten dollars as he mumbled "what do you expect I can do with this?" I didn’t particularly care at that moment as my brain was, by now, completely fried. We jumped back into the van and headed home in eerie silence until someone said, "Hey, stop for some doughnuts" and everything was right in the world again. My friend did return the favor though, on a later occasion, insisted that I drive the bug and abandoned me in the middle of a busy road in another stripped VW. Just when it dawned on me just what he was trying to do and I decided to leave the car right there, he re-appeared and we completed that trip uneventfully.