volksrider

The weekend was absolutely one of the most exhilarating weekends of my life. I went to two birthday parties of great childhood friends. I rode my mountain bike 48 miles for the first time in my life. And to top it off, I manage to create a great algothrim for a program I couldn’t finish for a few weeks early this Sunday morning. Any other Sunday, I would have been deeply sleeping until 2:00PM. I was exhausted after all of that, so I went to bed at a reasonable time on Sunday night. This is where I’ll describe my morning, written in a tomorrow’s consciousness.

This morning, like every weekday morning, I habitually woke up at exactly 6:11 AM greeted by the minute, but glaring LED green light of my alarm clock that is often only a few short inches from my face around morning time. I really don’t understand why, but this is the position I routinely wake up in. Being the smoker that I am, the first thing I look for upon arrival of the evitable morning sun was my pack. I knew exactly how many cigarettes I had in my box; a gift that every smoker has, but for some reason it was misplaced. For about 20 minutes, I frantically searched my apartment. At some point, I realize I left them in the glove box of my old rust 1956 Oval. So, I jumped into my yesterday’s jeans, grabbed my old SG profile keys off the table and ran downstairs. And when I opened the door and walked around the side of my house I almost dropped dead.

It was early fall, but the birds where chirping as if they were welcoming the birth of spring. The sky held a blue color so rich, that every angle of my Brooklyn neighborhood appeared postcard worthy. Today was a good start for what I saw before my eyes that created a strong bond that was laced with a hint of love. What I was staring at was not my old rust Oval Window Beetle, it was some entirely different. I look down, then I looked up slowly and it was still there. I slapped myself six times, but it was still there. The front driver’s tire, Pirelli I must add, wrapped an original Speedwell BRM. Honestly, I never saw original ones before, but I saw a hell-of-alot of fake ones and by the look of them, I just knew they were NOS. I quickly looked at the rear and just as I thought, a Pirelli tire matched with beautiful BRM. I grasp for another breath as I examined the triple black paint job. It had a luster like no other automobile I have ever saw in my entire life. The complete car was restored with a perfect mix of original vintage aftermarket parts and its original stock components. I’m talking BRM wheels, Bekowa 6 slack rack, VDO gauge replaced the speaker grill and I haven’t even examined the engine compartment, but I could only imagine the Judson Super Charger strapped to the original 36 hp engine. Pardon my French but, cette voiture était impressionnante !

Completely forgetting what I came down for, I looked at the rusty key in my hand with a puzzled expression. I was so puzzled that what I did not realize was that I looked at my keys so hard, that I saw straight through them. I saw my blood flowing rapidly through my veins. To myself I thought, I really need to take better care of my health because I noticed a few blood clotting points along path of my lower arm. Anyways, what I did not notice was the key in my hand was not dull or rusty at all. They had a shine so bright, a look so new, oh gawd! I lost control of my emotions as I walked slowly towards the car with the key held out in a horizontal position, praying that I was Cinderella and this shinny shoe perfectly fit my size twelve foot. I hesitated slightly before I stuck the key into the lock of the door. I push, then I pulled it out quickly. I was scared to face fact that this was a big mistake. Before making that final thrust completely into the cylinder of the lock, I said a quick prayer to God. “God, if this key fits this lock, I promise I will quit smoking this moment.” I closed my eyes and completely inserted the key, turned it and the door popped opened….

I could not believe my eyes. My old 1956 Oval window has transformed to a totally new, un-restored vehicle. I glanced at the rear window and long and behold, there was a square sheet of paper that listed all of the standard features and aftermarket options added to the car. The original sticker was on the car. This could not be correct because once I stepped into the vehicle, I noticed inside of the glove box hidden away was a modern Alpine face plate ready to be illuminated with crazy sounds. I jumped into the car quickly because I was eager to take it for a spin. When I flip the ignition, the car sounded like a baby black panther. Why baby? Because it was more powerful than the stock 36 hp engine, but the sound was more like a hiss than a growl (quiet). I immediately cranked up the volume of the Alpine and the music of Bob Marley filled the air with insane sounds (so percise). The car had 2 x 12″ Yahama sub-woofers grafted into the rear luggage compartment. If you looked in the rear you wouldn’t notice a thing. It looks completely factory. But the base has been raised by fiberglass emulation and speakers placed under it for a stock look. The semi-circular shape of the Beetle pushes the full base to the front. Amazing!

I slowly pulled the car out the driveway. From that moment, I had the attention of Brooklyn completely. I was Downtown, but I felt the anticipation of people in Coney Island waiting for me to cruise by. I seen kids pointing at the car as it slowly and stylishly passed by. Women were smiling in a way that clearly communicated I wannna ride, but I was too busy styling to pull over. Every moment was completely in slow motion. I was sitting on top of the world! As I continued to drive slowly and admiring being admired by all the beautiful women, I noticed smiles of affection slowly turned to laughs. Of course I kept driving like an old time pimp would, slight slouch to right. At this point, people started laughing too hard as I passed by. I got a little concern at that point. Before I could figure out what was going on, I felt a seat spring poke my ass (bottom side). The sounds of my Alpine started crackling. I stop the car and tried to get out, but the door was jammed just like my original 56. I had to lift the door slight as I pushed. I looked at the car and I saw 1 BRM and 3 rusty wheels with balding tires. I close my eyes and reopened them qickly and the final BRM was gone. The paint quickly started to tarnish and the Bekow was missing. With in 34.59 seconds it completely transformed back to my old 1956 Oval Window. And what made it so bad, it started to rain. Since I rolled down my new window, I couldn’t get old window back up because the cranker was broken for years. I jump back into the car with my head slight lower and my body dripping wet from the shower! So humiliating I must say. I reach for my glove box, grab my cigs and drove home.