Vw Quotes

I believe that the main thing in beginning a novel is to feel, not that you can write it, but that it exists on the far side of a gulf, which words can't cross; that its to be pulled through only in a breathless anguish. [VW]

It looks like my grandma's old VW Rabbit after the Berlin Wall fell on it. Twice.

Don't mind being as miserable as you like with me - I have a great turn that way myself - [VW]

Life is but a flash of time, a momentous flicker-- in the life that we know and space we live in on earth.© VW

For some reason, she didn't want to take the motorcycle, so that left my car, the ever trusty (almost always) Blue Beetle, in old-school VW Bug that had seen me through one nasty scrape after another. More than once, it had been pounded badly, but always it had risen to do battle once more – if by battle one means driving somewhere at a sedate speed, without much acceleration and only middling gas mileage.

I had a collection of ideas about West Virginia, but I had a hunch that they were all gross misinformation, plus none of them agreed: coal and the end of coal. Poverty and a mansion on a stripped mountain. Pickup trucks and VW buses. OxyContin and Jesus. Mother Jones and Don Blankenship. Knobby elbows and the fattest city in America.

We all look back at some time or other and wonder why we didn't listen to our instincts. Why did we hestiate? Why did we lose our dreams?

Yep. It’s basically the same car as a VW Touareg,

Off to California in that tired old VW with the disintegrating fuel pump like a family of dustbowl Okies?

They went chasing round and round. Round and round the mulberry bush. The Hun could fly. This must be one of Richthofen's young men.

The sheer perversity of making a VW go fast attracts a different human type

The VW doesn’t make you think of Hitler and genocide. It’s a breast on wheels, a puffy little dream.

All my parents wanted was the open road and a VW camper van. That was enough escape for them. The ocean, the night sky, some acoustic guitar.. what more could you ask? Well, actually, you could ask to go soaring off the side of a mountain on a snowboard, feeling as if, for one moment you are riding the clouds instead of the snow. You could scour Southeast Asia, like the world weary twenty somethings in Alex Garland’s novel The Beach, looking for the one corner of the globe uncharted by the Lonely Planet to start your own private utopia. You could, for the matter, join a new age cult and dream of alien abduction. From the occult to raves to riots it seems that the eternal urge for escape has never enjoyed such niche marketing.

Vergiss es einfach«, sagte er noch mal. Kurze Zeit später fuhren ein liebeskranker Lehrer, ein manisch-depressiver drogensüchtiger Deutschafrikaner und ein litauisches Wunderkind mit einem gelben VW die Autobahn entlang.

Moreover he was able to place Bundy’s car, the VW Bug, bearing two separate sets of plates, in Colorado on the very days that the victims in that state had vanished, and within a few miles of the sites of the disappearances.

That was the main thing wrong with Mrs. Kamal. She spent such an extraordinary amount of mental energy feeling irritated that it was impossible not to feel irritated in turn. It was oxygen to her, this low-grade dissatisfaction, shading into anger; this sense that things weren't being done correctly, that everything from the traffic noise at night to the temperature of the hot water in the morning to the progress of Mohammed's potty training to the fact that Fatima wasn't being taught to read Urdu, only English, to the fact that Rohinka served only two dishes at dinner the night of her arrival to the cost of the car insurance for the VW Sharan to the fact that Shahid didn't have a 'proper job' and seemed to have no intention of getting one, let alone a wife, to the unfriendliness of London, the fact that it was an 'impossible city,' to the ostentatious way she complained about missing Lahore, especially at dinner time, giving meaningful, sad, reproachful looks at the food Rohinka had cooked.

Scandalocity is defined as "the speed at which scandal measured in velocity can turn you into a star.

I never met a model I didn't like," says Nick Laws in The Shallow Man (The Dolce Vita Press, 2010/thedolcevitapress.com)

Infamy is the new PR. --Scandalocity by Coerte V.W. Felske

Részei lettek annak a valószerűtlen, de átható és izgató mindenségnek, ami a szerelem szemével nézve a világ.

Van, ahogy van, a dolog most már valahogy biztos csakugyan van.

...kardjának élét az élet felé fordítva...

S úgy érezte, megint kettesben, szemtől szembe kerültek, ő maga s ellenfele, az élet.

Mint minden érzés, mely felénk irányul, gondolta Mrs. Ramsey, ez is csak szomorúságot okozhat.

Nem állt össze semmi. Minden elkülönült. S így minden rá várt, erőfeszítést tenni, hogy összeálljon, megmozduljon, létrejöjjön bármi.

Then trust me, at least until the first time I betray that trust.

At Cambridge I took minor (John major) part in a Virginia Woolf centenary conference. As I hadn’t read any VW since school (possibly college) days, I felt bound to reread at least all the novels. It’s super to wake up now in the morning and realise I don’t have to read a Virginia Woolf novel today. I am prepared to admire some of the stuff but do not like either it or her

...érezte, igen, hogy az élet, mely elkülönült kis események sorozata, s ezeket egyenként, sorjában éljük át, kígyózó-hullámzó egész, mely hol feldobja, hol sodorja magával az embert, s a partra csobbantja végül.

The advisors, on the other hand, were like older brothers and sisters. My favorite was Bill Symes, who'd been a founding member of Fellowship in 1967. He was in his early twenties now and studying religion at Webster University. He had shoulders like a two-oxen yoke, a ponytail as thick as a pony's tail, and feet requiring the largest size of Earth Shoes. He was a good musician, a passionate attacker of steel acoustical guitar strings. He liked to walk into Burger King and loudly order two Whoppers with no meat. If he was losing a Spades game, he would take a card out of his hand, tell the other players, "Play this suit!" and then lick the card and stick it to his forehead facing out. In discussions, he liked to lean into other people's space and bark at them. He said, "You better deal with that!" He said, "Sounds to me like you've got a problem that you're not talking about!" He said, "You know what? I don't think you believe one word of what you just said to me!" He said, "Any resistance will be met with an aggressive response!" If you hesitated when he moved to hug you, he backed away and spread his arms wide and goggled at you with raised eyebrows, as if to say, "Hello? Are you going to hug me, or what?" If he wasn't playing guitar he was reading Jung, and if he wasn't reading Jung he was birdwatching, and if he wasn't birdwatching he was practicing tai chi, and if you came up to him during his practice and asked him how he would defend himself if you tried to mug him with a gun, he would demonstrate, in dreamy Eastern motion, how to remove a wallet from a back pocket and hand it over. Listening to the radio in his VW Bug, he might suddenly cry out, "I want to hear... 'La Grange' by ZZ Top!" and slap the dashboard. The radio would then play "La Grange.

Dana daydreamed of one day being able to set her agenda at B.Altman with the same courage and tenacity as the woman who was now driving the VW while speaking animatedly about her travel plans for the near future. She would be journeying to India in search of exotic merchandise for the store’s Indian extravaganza, a lavish event planned by Ira Neimark and Dawn Mello to compete with Bloomingdale’s Retailing as Theater movement. The movement was the brainchild of Bloomingdale’s Marvin Traub, who staged elaborate presentations such as China: Heralding the Dawn of a New Era. Typical extravaganzas featured fashion, clothing, food, and art from various regions of the world. “I’ll bring back enough items to make Bloomingdale’s blush!” Nina said confidently. “And I’m not just talking sweaters, hats, and walking sticks. I’ll stop first in the Himalayas and prowl the Landour Bazaar.” Lynn Steward ~ A Very Good Life

Beck starrte auf die Straße. Fuhr er wirklich diesen knallgelben hässlichen 80er-VW Passat, mit dem Ziel, Charlies kranke Mutter in der Türkei zu retten? Wer waren er und Charlie überhaupt? Zwei Ansammlungen von Molekülen, die in Begleitung einer jungen Ansammlung von Supermolekülen, Rauli, mit einer anders aufgebauten Ansammlung von Molekülen, dem Wagen, auf einer passiven Ansammlung von Molekülen, der Straße, zu einer Ansammlung von defekten Molekülen, der kranken Mutter, fuhren.

Obviously, a lot of people involved with Volkswagen's emissions were aware of the diesel car software cheat. One has to wonder how many of them tried to stop it and perhaps were demoted or lost their jobs over trying to prevent the secret Volkswagen car emissions fraud?

Sie gingen über die Wiese zurück zum VW-Bus. Tschernibog zündete sich eine Zigarette an, hustete diesmal aber nicht mehr. "Sie haben es mit dem Hammer gemacht", sagte er. "Wotan, der hat immer von Galgen und Speeren geredet, aber für mich gibt es nur eins..." Er streckte seinen nikotingelben Zeigefinger aus und klopfte Shadow damit kraftvoll gegen die Stirn, genau in die Mitte. "Bitte lassen Sie das", sagte Shadow höflich. "Bitte lassen Sie das", äffte Tschernibog ihn nach. "Eines Tages werde ich meinen Hammer nehmen und noch ganz anders mit Ihnen umspringen, mein Freund, schon vergessen?

Szerelem ez, gondolta Lily, ahogy mintha vásznával bíbelődött volna, párolt és leszűrt szerelem; szerelem, mely tárgyát megragadni sosem akarná; szerelem, amit matematikusok éreznek képleteik, költők verssoraik iránt, és mintha az lett volna a célja ennek a szerelemnek, hogy a világon szétoszolva az emberüdv része legyen.

Ügylet bonyolítódik, ő áll az egyik oldalon, az élet a másikon, s ezen a csereüzleten mindig is ő akart nyerni; olykor elbeszélgettek (ha ő egyedül ült); akadtak, emlékezett rá, nagy békülési jelenetek; hanem többnyire, s ez különös, be kellett vallania, azt érezte, hogy amit életnek nevez, rémséges, ellenséges, lecsap ránk, ha hagyjuk.

I wish I could have shown you that engineheart- the system of pieces and parts that moved us forward, that moves us forward still. One day, a few weeks after my son’s death, I took the bolt off the casing and opened it up. Just to see how it worked. Opening that heart was like the opening the first page of a book- there were characters (me, the Memory of My Father), there was rhythm and chronology, I saw, in the images, old roads I’d forgotten- and scenes from stories where the VW was just a newborn. I do know that it held a true translation: miles to words, words to notes, notes to time. It was the HEART that converted the pedestrian song of Northampton to something meaningful, and it did so via some sort of fusion: the turtle that howls a bluegrass tune at the edge of Bow Lake becomes a warning in the VW heart…and that’s just the beginning- the first heart layer. It will take years and years of study, and the energy of every single living thing, to understand the tiny minds and roads in the subsequent layers, the mechanics at work to make every single heartmoment turn together… The point is, this WAS always the way it was supposed to be. Even I could see that the Volkswagen heart was wired for travel-genetically coded. His pages were already written-as are mine and yours. Yes, yours too! I am looking into your eyes right now and I am reading your life, and I am excited/sorry for what the road holds for you. It’s going to be amazing/really difficult. You’ll love/loathe every minute of it!

forty-seven years old, tired, but none the worse for wear. In a little more than thirteen months, he had discovered, analyzed, and packed tens of thousands of pieces of artwork, including eighty truckloads from Altaussee alone. He had organized the MFAA field officers at Normandy, pushed SHAEF to expand and support the monuments effort, mentored the other Monuments Men across France and Germany, interrogated many of the important Nazi art officials, and inspected most of the Nazi repositories south of Berlin and east of the Rhine. It would be no exaggeration to guess he put 50,000 miles on his old captured VW and visited nearly every area of action in U.S. Twelfth Army Group territory. And during his entire tour of duty on the continent, he had taken exactly one and a half days off.

hotbed of radicalism in the capital, the campus and its adjacent streets were jammed with students. Just finished with their midday prayers, they were now chanting and marching. Some were firing machine guns into the air. Charlie could feel the same violent spirit that had pervaded the scene around the embassy, and he immediately slammed on the brakes and screeched to a halt. Jamming the car into reverse, he gunned the engine and began to back up but was cut off by a VW van filled with students that had come up behind them. The VW’s driver suddenly began screaming something about their American car, and six young men jumped out, carrying wooden sticks and metal pipes. “Lock your doors, Claire,” Charlie ordered, doing the same on his side. Wild-eyed, the students surrounded the Buick, taunting and cursing them.

What are they doing?” he whispered. The pinball machine’s scoreboard was full, the bank’s windows fogged. They were so involved- so cofaithed- that they didn’t know we were there. The VW’s face joined, “Are they hurting each other?” I took a breath. “There’s risk involved, because of what they can’t see. Plus the risk of trust. But no-they’re not hurting each other.” The bank whispered something in the pinball machine’s ear and the pinball machine giggled. “What are they saying to each other?” the VW said. “They’re expressing their faith, VW-sharing it.” Just then I heard a rustle, soft at first, then louder…Distracted by other things-the VW, the faith in the trees- I had forgotten to keep the mountain straight in my mind. I had let it go, and now it was changing, reversing itself, growing young: the leaves were turning from brown back to green… THIS was western Massachusetts-unpredictable; a changing moving bitch; a switcher of faces…how could I have many any progress here when mountains were mountains one moment and something else the next; when people were here one day and then GONE?

To purchase a Volkswagen, customers were required to make a weekly deposit of at least 5 Reichsmarks into a DAF account on which they received no interest. Once the account balance had reached 750 Reichsmarks, the customer was entitled to delivery of a VW. The DAF meanwhile achieved an interest saving of 130 Reichsmarks per car. In addition, purchasers of the VW were required to take out a two-year insurance contract priced at 200 Reichsmarks. The VW savings contract was non-transferable, except in case of death, and withdrawal from the contract normally meant the forfeit of the entire sum deposited. Remarkably, 270,000 people signed up to these contracts by the end of 1939 and by the end of the war the number of VW-savers had risen to 340,000. In total, the DAF netted 275 million Reichsmarks in deposits. But not a single Volkswagen was ever delivered to a civilian customer in the Third Reich. After 1939, the entire output was reserved for official uses of various kinds. Most of Porsche’s half-finished factory was turned over to military production. The 275 million Reichsmarks deposited by the VW savers were lost in the post-war inflation. After a long legal battle, VW’s first customers received partial compensation only in the 1960s.

VW Valley is one of the final mountains one climbs on Selection--but it’s among the worst. VW stands for Voluntary Withdrawal, and when you see the mountain you can understand why people have often quit here. Steep, windswept, and boggy--and at mile thirty it is the point where many recruits quit and remove themselves from the course--broken by the sheer distance, weight, and speed. But not me. Not now. On my backside, I slid down the first steep reentrant leading into the bowl of the valley. I was using the butt of my weapon to steer me as I glissaded down the snow, and I finally slowed at the bottom, near an iced-over stream. I crossed it and started straight up the face with Trucker behind me. On and on and on--until finally at the crest I collapsed and waited for him. Trux’s feet were both badly swollen. Later on he discovered that he’d broken both of his big toes somewhere around this point. It was purely from the incessant pounding his feet were taking. He was in agony. I heard him muttering under his breath. He was mumbling Bible verses to himself. We had often both quietly prayed together before the big marches. Now we needed that help more than ever. “I am holding you by your right hand…Do not be afraid. I am here to help you.” Isaiah, 41:13. If ever I needed to hear such words it was now. It is easy to be cynical and to think you do not need help when all is going your way; but if Selection taught me anything it is that we all have our limits. To push beyond those limits sometimes requires something beyond just ourselves. That is what my faith has given me--a secret strength and help when I have needed it most.

...a hullámok monoton bukdosása a parton, mely többnyire ütemesen s megnyugtatóan kísérte gondolatait, ahogy ott ült gyermekei körében, már-már vigasztaló ritmust verve, s akár ha a természet hajtogatná egy régi-régi bölcsődal szavaival: "Nem hagylak el - megvédelek...", máskor viszont hirtelen, váratlanul, s főleg ha figyelme elterelődött épp a pillanatnyi teendőről, mintha egyáltalán nem sugallt volna ily vigaszos jelentést, nem, de mint kísérteties dobok pergése, szólt az élet mértékeiről, hogy aki hallja, a pusztulásra gondoljon, itt e szigetére, a tenger ölén, s őt magát arra figyelmezteti, hogy napjai hiába telnek hol ezzel, hol azzal a valóságos kis teendővel, anyagtalanok csak, mint a szivárvány - ez a monotonság, mely tompán rejlezett eleddig más hangok mögé, most egyszerre ott dübörgött, mint hatalmas üregben, a fülében, s ő maga óhatatlan borzadállyal kapta fel nyomban a fejét.

No, I don't work here, I'm taking pictures of messy bathrooms for a photo essay on the American West. But I'm always up for clean, so if you want to pitch in, I've got Pine Sol and a sponge in my car... It's that VW microbus parked next to the dumpster, and you don't need a key, just pull hard.

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One of the saddest experiences which can come to a human being is to awaken, grey-haired and wrinkled, near the close of an unproductive career, to the fact that all through the years, he has been using only a small part of himself.

In 2005 joblessness would peak at 10.6 percent. To combat this scourge, between 2003 and 2005 the Schroeder government announced a national restructuring program titled Agenda 2010. Its main thrust was a multiphase program of labor market liberalization and benefit cuts, designed by a committee headed by VW’s head of human resources, Peter Hartz. The fourth and final phase of cuts, Hartz IV, became synonymous with a new German “reform” narrative. The unemployed were returned to work. Wage restraint restored German competitiveness. The reward came already in 2003 when Germany could boast of being the world export champion (Exportweltmeister). Agenda 2010 would come to define a new bipartisan self-understanding of Germany’s political class. Having accomplished the enormous task of reunification, Germany had overcome its internal difficulties and “reformed” its way back to economic health. It is a narrative that is superficially compelling and it would have significant implications for how Berlin approached the crisis of the eurozone, but it does not withstand close scrutiny. Hartz IV certainly drove millions of people more or less willingly off long-term unemployment benefits into a range of insecure jobs. This helped to hold down wages for unskilled workers, such as cashiers and cleaning workers. In the first ten years of the euro, despite soaring productivity, half of German households experienced no wage growth at all. This shortened unemployment rolls. It also increased pretax inequality and lowered Germany’s wages relative to its European neighbors. But as to the competitiveness of German exporters, the significance of Hartz IV is far less obvious. German companies do not win export orders by shaving the wages of unskilled workers. A far more important source of competitive advantage came from outsourcing production to Eastern Europe and Southern Europe. Added to which there was the boost from the global recovery of the early 2000s. While its economic impact has been exaggerated, what Hartz IV did transform was German politics. The blue-collar electorate and the left wing of the SPD never forgave Schroeder for Hartz IV.

I’d like to be known just as a good worker in the vineyard who held his own and contributed generally to the advancement of the law.” Harry Blackmun, Associate Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States of America, 1970–1994, author of the Roe v. Wade decision. Section 5, Lot 40-4, Map Grid V/W-36, Arlington National Cemetery.

I see you everywhere, in the stars, in the river; to me you are everything that exists; the reality of everything." V.W

Perhaps most stunning thing about the VW emissions debacle is that it's by no means a singular event. The same script – unreachable target goals, a command-and-control hierarchy that motivates by fear, and people afraid to lose their jobs if they fail – has been repeated again and again. In part that's because it's a script that was useful in the past, when goals were reachable, progress directly observable, and tasks largely individually executed. Under those conditions, people could be compelled to reach them simply by fear and intimidation. The problem is that, in today's volatile, uncertain, complex, and ambiguous (VUCA) world, this is no longer a script that's good for business. Rather than success, it's a playbook that invites avoidable, and often painfully public, failure.

Over the course of those few days in South Africa, I felt myself floating. This visit was a long way from my first trip to Kenya in 1991, when I’d ridden around with Barack in matatus and pushed Auma’s broken-down VW along the side of a dusty road. What I felt was one part jet lag, maybe, but two parts something more profound and elating. It was as if we’d stepped into the larger crosscurrents of culture and history, reminded suddenly of our relative smallness in the wider arc of time.

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Ben may be a skeptic, but he's curious enough to be at my house Saturday afternoon when Maeve arrives along with her ghost-hunting team. "This is Todd and Evan, who'll handle the technical aspects tonight," she says, introducing the two burly young men who are unloading camera gear from a white van. They are brothers with identical red beards and they look so much alike that I can only tell them apart by their different T-shirts. Evan's is Star Wars, Todd's is Alien. I'm surprised that neither is wearing Ghostbusters. A VW comes up the driveway and parks behind the white van. "And that'll be Kim, our team sensitive," says Maeve. Out of the VW emerges a stick-thin blonde with cheeks so hollow that I wonder if she has recently suffered an illness. She takes a few steps toward us and suddenly stops, staring up at the house. She stands motionless for so long that Ben finally asks, "What's going on with her?" "She's fine," says Maeve. "She's probably just trying to get a feeling for the place and detect any vibrations.

It was done with respect for both tradition and the full array of Nazi panoply. The mood was jovial at the May 1938 laying of the VW factory’s cornerstone as Hitler tried his Beetle’s rear seating. Robert Ley and Ferdinand Porsche were the most prominent of those behind him.

we now know that UFOs apparently come in an array of shapes and sizes. They are shaped like ovals, cigars, triangles, trapezoids, disks, spheres, coins flipped on their sides, boomerangs, crescents, hexagons, Vs, lenticulars, diamonds. They are black, silver, metallic, smooth, textured, and can change colors and shapes. They range in sizes as huge as a football stadium and as small as a VW. The crafts reportedly move at incredible speeds, can hover, hang seemingly motionless in the sky, and are capable of astounding maneuvers. They usually make no sound, don’t have wings, often have a dome on top, and even lit portholes.

How to read this book: Even after I was told my father was dead, I believed (I still believe) that I could fix everything- that if I logged enough miles in my VW and kept telling stories through the countless dead ends and breakdowns, I could undo the terrible tree events…not that I should have expected to with this particular power, which is incomplete (as I was forced to sell a few stories and procedures for time-of-money), full of holes. Sure, the book turns on, lights up; its fans whirr and the bookengine crunches. But some of the pages are completely blank; others hang by a thread. the book’s transmission is shot, too, so don’t’ be surprised if the book slips from one version to the next as you’re reading .Finally, the thermostat’s misked, so you should expect sudden changes in temperature, the pages might get cold, or it may begin to snow between paragraphs, or you may turn the page and get hit with a faceful of rain or blinding beams of sunlight. So go ahead. Do it-open the book. See? You see me, right? And I see you. See? I am reading your face, your eyes, your lips. I know the sufferdust on your brow. I can see you reading, and I can tell, too, when you are here, when you are absent, what you’ve read and how it affects you. There is no more hiding. I see your chords- your fratures, your cold gifts, where and when you’ve hurt people…your stories are written right there on your face!

The heart of the engine is the one part that I can’t help you find, unfortunately. There is just no way for me to document its location; it’s different in every car. I could barely find the heart of my VW-it was too confusing, and there were too many routes. Every time I thought I’d reach the center point I realized I was lost, not where I thought I was, following the wrong sunrise yet again. I wonder: Does the heart move around or something? The geographic arrangement of the engine compartment doesn’t make things any easier- some of the mechanical parts are underground, nestled in the hills, and others are hidden behind the hustle and lathe of small mechanical cities. But don’t cloudy-day! We’ll find the heart eventually- I don’t care if we need to tear the engine down to every bolt and moment to do so.

LOVE is measured in GAUGE TWENTY- specifically, love pressure in the surrounding area. If it drops below four percent, though, you may have trouble-the VW might get sad, slow down, or even stop altogether. If this occurs, you have to immediately find/write a story that somehow convinces him that there is more love, caring or compassion in the area than he thinks there is. I can’t tell you how many times this has been a problem for us- how many trips were interrupted because I had to head into the nearest populated town to see if we could find examples of kindness.

Er spricht Hochdeutsch. Alles an ihm ist Bredeney. Wahrscheinlich Helmholtzgymnasium und dann irgendein Verwaltungshochschulstudium und jetzt einen sauberen Dienstwagen von VW. Ekelhaft. Und faszinierend. Ich lächele.

Can’t you see I’m starving?” asked a very large man in a very loud voice. His words were clipped, desperate and breathless. It was less a question than a demand. Less a shout than a gargle, as though the man spoke through a mouthful of gumballs and old chicken bones. His head was massive; a pregnant watermelon perched neckless atop a VW Bug. His swollen body oozed off the sides of his bed and rippled with aftershocks after each huffed syllable. Two EMT’s in ventilated hazmat suits circumnavigated the obese man like puffy yellow astronauts orbiting a small moon. “Sir, calm down. Please. We’re here to help you.

Imagine trying to jerry-rig a Volkswagen Beetle to travel at speeds of 150 miles per hour. In 1933, Adolf Hitler commissioned Dr. Ferdinand Porsche to develop a cheap car that could get 40 miles per gallon of gas and provide a reliable form of transportation for the average German family. The result was the VW Beetle. This history, Hitler’s plan, places constraints on the ways we can modify the Beetle today; the engineering can be tweaked only so far before major problems arise and the car reaches its limit. In many ways, we humans are the fish equivalent of a hot-rod Beetle. Take the body plan of a fish, dress it up to be a mammal, then tweak and twist that mammal until it walks on two legs, talks, thinks, and has superfine control of its fingers—and you have a recipe for problems. We can dress up a fish only so much without paying a price. In a perfectly designed world—one with no history—we would not have to suffer everything from hemorrhoids to cancer.

Driving through the refugee camp made us think about how embarrassingly frivolous most of our problems are.

The report, which did not cite sources, said VW, the world's No. 2 automaker, was interested in acquiring Chrysler to help it improve its struggling footing in the United States, and specified that Fiat's Ferrari subsidiary would be excluded from any deal. Fiat said no merger talks had taken place, a position that was repeated by its majority shareholder in a separate statement issued at the request of Italy's market watchdog.

VW used to mean FAHRVERGNUGEN and now it's FARFROMUNION! Birgit Von Schondorf

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POP FACT Like the Passat and the Scirocco, the Golf was another ’70s VW named after a wind. In this case, Golfstrom, which is German for Gulf Stream.

This is not your standard “How to restore” your VW Beetle book. It’s also not a workshop manual. Aside from a basic rundown on the differences between various bug models through the years, there is a section on some things you can do to preserve your bug. Mostly however, what I’ve done is reviewed all the things I did to my bugs and put those ideas together as cheap, skillful, cheap, d.i.y, cheap means of enhancing your grocery getter’s performance and handling.

To minimize the risk of abduction by an accountancy firm, I let my hair grow long and lank, wore bangles, dressed in hemp and kikoys and drove around in a rickety white VW Golf car with tinted silver windows. It was the sort of car that only a cyclist could love.

VW was like North Korea without labor camps,” Ellinghorst said, paraphrasing a description of the company once made by Der Spiegel magazine: “You have to obey everyone.

Traffic slowed as they entered Fort Washakie with everyone rubbernecking the spirited powwow taking place in an empty field just off the main road. Most of the audience gathered round was non-native. But everyone there was stomping and clapping and surrendering themselves to the rhythmic spell of the drums, much like the performers themselves, and the dust of the earth which coalesced with their smoky breath to envelope them together in a billowing cone of palpitation. And Joshua sat there at the stop sign a little too long because he couldn’t bring himself to look away. But no one inside the VW or in the other cars cared, or even noticed, because they were doing the same.

The third quirk is that we assume other people will see the transaction from the same perspective as we do. We somehow expect the buyer of our VW to share our feelings, emotions, and memories.

Even Aristotle, despite the abuse he has suffered in these pages, had enough common sense to point out, once, that "I see" always contains fallacy; we should say "I have seen." Time always elapses between the impact of energy on the eye and the creation of an image (and associated name and ideas) in the brain, which explains why three eyewitnesses to a hit-and-run such as we postulate here may report, not just the blue Ford of the first speaker, but a blue VW or maybe even a green Toyota.

it’s perhaps little surprise that the biggest carmakers can’t get by without hoards of cash: in 2017 GM had $20 billion in cash on hand; Ford had $26.5 billion; Toyota and VW both finished fiscal 2017 with $43 billion in their bank accounts.

You don’t need to be a hippie to own a Volkswagen campervan. VW camper soon became just as well known for its funky yet functional design, as well as a fashion statement.

Maurice could recite every detail of every model of VW going back almost fifty years, from the split-screen window on the early T2s to the notorious heater core in the ’92 Jetta.

Then he saw the VW bus. It was still running. He scooped his wife up in his arms, carried her to the VW, and set her carefully on the floor in the back.

Finally, up to Boston and our first taste of New England: a chaotic March snowstorm. I woke up the next morning, put on my crisp dress blues, ready for my first day at work—and immediately had to change back into jeans to dig the VW out of the snow. It was a difficult introduction to the Northeast for a beachcomber from Southern California, and my first days at the Office of Naval Research weren’t much better. I had been training to be a warrior in the Army, then I got a great job designing submersibles and working on my Ph.D. Being activated by the Navy had meant a sharp detour with a huge pay cut. But here I was. I figured I’d do my duty and then head back to California.

I knew we were lucky because we had our old Honda minivan, which had lots of room. I met a kid who lived for a whole year in one of those VW cars. It was red and round like a ladybug and just about as tiny. The poor kid had to sleep sitting up, squished between his two little sisters. Another reason we were lucky was because my sleeping box was just decoration. Some people actually live in boxes on the street.

Want a ride?" ... One look at the car, & I decided that walking didn't sound so bad, after all. ... "Half the people around here shouldn't even be driving." She said this will no irony whatsoever, despite the fact that her car's black cloth top kept rising and lowering like some kind of strange bird trying to achieve flight. The driver, a young ginger haired guy, took a stab at making it stop, & turned the wipers on instead. "I'm good," I assured her. ... Ronnie panicked & veered sharply to the right, missing the race car but clipping a VW Bug that had stalled out in the middle of the air. It's hood was jacked up, and its owner's butt was hanging over the side. Or, at least, it was until the impact caused the Bug to go spinning in one direction & flung the owner in the other. ...."uh-oh" .... Ronnie glanced at me. "Get in if you're getting!" I'd have refused, considering his grasp on the fundamentals of the road -- or in this case, the air. But traffic was piling up around the accident, pushing more people out of the safe zone. And I was beginning to doubt that most of them even knew how to drive on land.

The second quirk is that we focus on what we may lose, rather than what we may gain... The third quirk is that we assume other people will see the transaction from the same perspective as we do. We somehow expect the buyer of our VW to share our feelings, emotions, and memories. It is just difficult for us to imagine that the person on the other side of the transaction, buyer or seller, is not seeing the world as we see it.

For most of the nights of my life I could hear Stewart coming home late from his university studio, the brakes of his bike — they had an old VW bus, but it broke down constantly — squeaking all the way from the bridge down the street. He’d glide down the slope of their yard, under the clothesline, to the garage. Sometimes he forgot about the clothesline and almost killed himself, flying backward while the bike went on, unmanned to crash against the garage door. You’d think they would have moved the clothesline after the second time or so. But they didn’t. “It’s not the fault of the clothesline,” Stewart explained to me one day, rubbing the red, burned spot on his neck. He’d broken his glasses again and had them taped together in the middle. “It’s about me respecting it as an obstacle.

The rusted-out VW bug is the national bird of Waitressland.

been unlikely to spot the headlights of the little VW Polo that followed him some distance back, staying several cars behind. The Seekers were playing on the radio, ‘I’ll Never Find Another You’. Oh yes I will. You, man, are history. But all the same, he fretted. Kofi could give the whole game away if he was caught, and talked. Hopefully, like himself, he’d been smart enough to get away. Thirty minutes later, back in Brighton, he turned off the busy Dyke Road Avenue thoroughfare and down a short distance to leafy, secluded Withdean Road. He drove past the entrances to several

(VW Beetles, as I’ve noted, seemed to be the car of choice for serial killers

As expected, the story about the missing school principal was right there at the top of the news broadcast. “Tonight, authorities in Bisbee are searching for Bisbee High School’s principal, Debra Highsmith, who went missing sometime last night,” the news anchor said. “When Ms. Highsmith failed to show up at work today, police officers were dispatched to her home to do a welfare check, but failed to find her. Our reporter Toni Avila is on the scene. What can you tell us, Toni?” “According to a spokesman for the Bisbee Police Department, when officers were dispatched to Ms. Highsmith’s residence in Bisbee’s San Jose neighborhood, they found no evidence of a struggle or of foul play. Her vehicle, a white 2006 VW Passat with Arizona plate number AZU-657, is also missing. At this point, officers assisted by K-9 teams are doing a thorough search of the nearby area. They’re also checking with area hospitals to see if Ms. Highsmith may have suffered some kind of medical emergency. Anyone with knowledge of her whereabouts is urged to contact the Bisbee Police Department.