Tom Janiszewski and his passenger had been on the road for, oh, a minute, when an oncoming Jetta slowed, the driver smiled, honked and flashed a thumbs-up through his sun roof.
“Happens a lot,” says Janiszewski, a 33-year-old graphic designer from Carpentersville.
It’s easy to see why. Janiszewski drives a replica of Herbie, star of the 1969 Disney film “The Love Bug.” People have a thing for Herbie.
“I’ve had truckers honking and waving. I’ve had people stop me–‘Can you pull over and let us take a picture?’ I’ve had people follow me. I’ve gotten a free toll. I didn’t have my I-Pass, and I pulled up to the booth, and the attendant was, ‘Oh my God! It’s Herbie! Go, go. It’s on me!’ If you want to blend into traffic, you can’t drive this car. It’s a party on wheels.”
But the party is over for the classic Volkswagen Beetle. The last one rolled off a Mexican assembly line last month, ending a run of 21.5 million cars over nearly 60 years. The simple, little rounded car that was spawned by Adolf Hitler, embraced by college kids in the ’60s and ’70s and became an international icon fell victim to tougher pollution standards, a new Mexican law that stipulates that cars sold there must have four doors, and Volkswagen’s decision to concentrate on better-selling models.
The real surprise is that the Bug–the original Bug, not the version that was resurrected in 1998–lasted this long. They’re cramped, they’re hot in the summer and cold in the winter, they’re noisy, the floorboards rust out, the windows fog up, winter driving is difficult, trying to go uphill into the wind is an adventure . . .
And still there are people like Janiszewski. They have their Bugs. And their Bug stories.
The Herbie devotee
“When I turned 16 the plan was to buy a Beetle, an old Bug,” Janiszewski says. “It was 1987. At the time, Volkswagen was unveiling the Fox, a Brazilian-built sedan. I went to the auto show and my dad convinced me to buy that. It was a new car, a little more reliable. Then I’d save again and buy a Bug.”
A year later he bought a 1965 Bug for $1,700. During the next 11 years he turned it into Herbie by adding such details as Herbie’s red, white and blue racing stripes and No. 53 “gumball” decals on the doors. (Janiszewski has all the receipts for the restoration, but has never been able to bring himself to total them up).
He has two more Bugs–a ’79 convertible that he bought for $300 this spring, and a ’68 that he bought just for the carburetors. He also has a 1999 Beetle, along with a vintage VW camper and the Fox.
When he decided to copy Herbie, a trip to the video store wouldn’t do. Janiszewski went to the Volkswagen factory museum in Germany.
“In the museum they have a genuine car from the movie,” he says. “I went to the museum with a tape measure and a camera, and I measured and photographed everything.”
When he returned home, he had the original Herbie’s paint job duplicated on his Herbie, down to the last detail. You think that’s dedication? When he heard about the end of production of the Bug, he and his girlfriend took “an emergency vacation” to Mexico and got a tour of the plant the last week before the final VW rolled off the assembly line.
That’s dedication.
The lifelong fan
That Volkswagen has stopped producing Bugs has hit Eric Anderson on a couple of levels. First, he’s a lifelong VW fan. And second, he sells them at Bill Jacobs Volkswagen in Aurora.
“It’s terrible that they’re not producing them anymore,” says Anderson, 38.
“I’ve had many, many calls from people in a panic. They think the new Beetle has been scrapped. I have to tell ’em it’s the older ones they got rid of. But they’re not too happy with that either,” he said.
Anderson’s Volkswagen roots go back to his childhood; his grandfather owned a tiny VW repair shop in Minooka.
“Everyone knew about it through word of mouth, and everybody and his brother would bring their [VWs] in. . . . And the state police, every time they saw one in distress, they knew who to get in touch with.”
Often, what was towed in would be an old VW bus.
“So when I was a kid, I’d see a bunch of happy people in a bus,” Anderson says, conjuring up visions of life in the late ’60s and early ’70s. “A bus with the flowers painted on the side and everything. Growing up, I thought all the happy people who’d paint their vehicles would be at Grandpa’s house.”
When Anderson was 15, his father bought him a 1970 Beetle.
“It was just destroyed,” he says. “Rust all over it. It was falling apart, the floors were rotting out. So I ended up building a kit car,” which he still has.
In his year-plus at Bill Jacobs, Anderson says he has noticed that his customers are similar to the people he was around when he was a kid.
“VW people are different,” he says. “Look at the Dead Heads. That generation, the peace and love people, they drove VWs. But you’d also find conservatives who drove ’em.
“That’s the VW Beetle, a happy little car that’s happy to help everybody. How could you be upset with a car like that?”
The college romance
It took Kostas Cios a little time to realize what he had.
He got his 1973 Super Beetle through his father, who owned a repair shop in Chicago.
“One of his customers had it and didn’t want it anymore,” Cios says. “And nobody in my family wanted it.”
It was the perfect car for a kid in college.
“I drove around with the top down when it was raining. I drove it full of people. I just ran it into the ground. Finally the floor boards rusted out,” says Cios, now a 30-year-old Chicago attorney.
He returned the car to his father for repairs.
“He took it apart and left it apart for three years,” Cios says. “That was very smart. He knew what he was doing. He knew I’d appreciate it more if I had to get a little older.”
When he got it back, it was restored like new.
And Cios’ father was right. His son does appreciate the car.
“They’re not very practical,” he says. For air conditioning, “you roll down the window. The heat is pretty much generated by the engine in the rear. And there isn’t a lot of room. But it’s got a lot of character. The styling is timeless. It’s easy to drive, easy to park. The upkeep is simple. It’s easy to find parts.”
He has also come to enjoy how others react to his car.
“I like to see the joy people get,” he says. “It’s not a Ferrari or a Jaguar or some classic car. But it turns heads. People in their 40s and 50s honk and wave.”
The restorer
In some ways, Tom Kravcar and Beetles go way back. His brother had one that Tom would drive, and he rented one when he was in the service some 35 years ago. He liked them, but he never owned one, preferring things like a ’57 Chevy and a ’72 Chevelle SS.
He saw the light three years ago.
“It was the 4th of July parade in Bartlett,” he says. “There were six or seven of them. I just said, `That’s for me.’ That day I went out and got a copy of Trading Times and found this Beetle in it.”
“This Beetle” is a 1975 model that Tom and his wife, Vicki, purchased from a guy in Naperville. The car, originally a sort of beige-yellow, he says, had spent most of its life in Arizona and had just a few nicks and dings and a worn interior.
“I don’t paint,” says Tom, who works as a program manager for Motorola. “But I did all of the interior myself. I re-covered the seats myself. My son Mat and I did the work, stripped it down, painted the seat frames. Then my son and I reassembled everything.”
The Kravcars finished the work about a year ago, and the car looks as though it just rolled off a showroom floor. In 1975.
“I’m trying to keep it as original as possible,” says Tom, who with Vicki takes the car to various shows. While he spoke, his car was getting the once-over from the crowd–many of them teenagers or younger–at a classic-car gathering in downtown Wheaton.
“The day I bought it, every single neighbor came by, and every one of them had a [Beetle] story.” Tom says. “`I had one in college,’ or `My brother or my uncle or my father had one.’ Everybody had a story. Everybody likes these cars.”
The customizers
For Kirk and Pam Schulz of Bartlett, Volkswagens are part of the family.
Pam’s father had a dune buggy made from an old VW, and she learned to drive in a Beetle. Kirk’s mother had a ’66 Beetle, which he still recalls fondly.
“I can remember going to my aunt’s at Christmas,” he says. “It was myself, my mother and my grandparents. We all had the big coats on, with all the presents. We’d be bundled up, and it’d be the four of us crammed into this little car with our presents.”
The Schulzes decided to get a Beetle of their own in 1994. They found a 1978 Super Beetle convertible in Arizona with only 118,000 miles.
“It was in good shape,” Kirk says. “The convertible top had been done about a year before we got it. The interior needed to be gutted. We were going to do a factory-style interior. But we got to looking for replacement seat covers and door handles, and we decided to do something a little more personal. So we ended up with a tweed interior rather than vinyl. And we got a CD player and some chrome trim to freshen it up.”
There was one other bit of customizing: Pam’s Beetle tattoo on her ankle.
“A friend of mine was having a tattoo party,” she says. “I was nervous, but I really wanted one. And there was no doubt in my mind what it would be.”
Generations of Beetlemania
1934. Adolf Hitler orders the production of an affordable vehicle for the masses, a people’s car (a “volks wagen”).
It is dubbed the KDF Wagen (Kraft durch Freude Wagen), or “Strength through joy car.”
1936. The first three prototypes are designed and produced by Ferdinand Porsch.
1938. The first VW factory is built in KdF-Stadt, later renamed Wolfsburg; it would become the world’s largest auto plant.
1946. After the end of World War II, production resumes at Wolfsburg, which had been badly damaged in Allied bombing raids. The KdF-Wagen is officially renamed the Volkswagen. Several hundred cars were produced for the 1946 model year, increasing to 19,000 in 1948 and 46,000 a year later.
1948. Beetles are produced in Ireland and Brazil.
1949. The first VWs are imported to the U.S.
1953. A one-piece back window replaces the original two-piece split window. And the VW is the top import in the U.S., with 28,097 sold.
1955. The millionth Beetle is produced.
1957. Volkswagen introduces tubeless tires to the auto world.
1960. Outside door handles become push-button, instead of pull type.
1963. Two Italians rig a propeller on their Beetle and navigate the Straits of Messina, about four miles, in 38 minutes.
1967. The Beetle gets a facelift, with redesigned headlights, bumpers, taillights and electrical system.
1969. The Beetle reaches its highest ever production total (1,076,897 cars). “The Love Bug” movie is released by Disney and grosses $51.26 million.
1970. The Super Beetle is born.
1972. On Feb. 17, the 15,007,034th Beetle leaves the assembly line at Wolfsburg, beating the record held by the Model T Ford as the most popular car in the world. Ford later revised its figure to 16.5 million. Beetle production passed that number a year later.
1974. Beetle production stops in Wolfsburg. “Herbie Rides Again” is released.
1975. Last year of the Super Beetle in the U.S.
1977. “Herbie Goes to Monte Carlo” released.
1978. Beetle production stops in Europe.
1980. “Herbie Goes Bananas” released.
1981. The 20 millionth Beetle is produced.
1996. Production ceases in Brazil.
1998. The new Beetle debuts.
2003. The last old-style Beetle rolls off the assembly line in Mexico.
— W.H.
Sources: www.germanculture.com.ua, www.volkswest.co.uk, www.superbeetles.com, www.vwbeetle.org, www.cybersteering.com, the Arizona Republic and Tribune wires
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Rare relic
Twenty years ago you couldn’t walk a block without seeing a VW Bug; now they’re relatively rare.
663: Original Beetles are registered in Chicagoland for 2003. The top three cities:
84 in Chicago.
23 in Naperville.
13 in Barrington.
Source: R.L. Polk & Co.
