A few weeks ago The Bug came out of retirement.  She'd been parked since c. 1994 and after having some work done, she was road ready.  It was good to see her parked in the garage, but she looked smaller than I remembered.  When I first moved away from home in 1992, I packed everything I needed into the backseat and trunk of this little car.


We opened the doors and the kids climbed inside.  They buckled up.  Pushed every button.  Marveled at how the old fashioned locks worked, and wondered what the turning cranks were on the door.  As they rolled down the windows by hand, I told them that this car was made the year after I was born, and right there I turned to dust before their eyes.


Martin opened the glove box (which sports a plate from a trophy celebrating the Urban Guerillas as the New Band of the Year) to pull the trunk lever.  Next to the lever we found a stack of film negatives, which the kids had never seen before.  The car and everything in it was Old Fashioned, they said.  I thought it was more Retro than Old Fashioned, but I guess that's the viewpoint you'd have if you had experienced it the first time it was around.


A bug is a people magnet, and although its small, five young children can easily sit in the front seats.


That weekend I drove the bug to the farm for winter storage.  My shoulder only inches away from the door, the radio that plays only AM, and the old familiar smell - all as good as I remembered.  What I don't remember is ever feeling that the car was anything but perfectly safe, which is probably related more to age when I first got the car than its actual safety features.  Driving it now, after years of having big vehicles, it felt like a tin can.


I haven't yet decided whether or not I'm going to sell The Bug in the spring.  For now, she's safely wintering at The Rooster Condo.