Mr. Leo Timbol, proud new New Beetle owner

Pictured above with yours truly is Mr. Leo Timbol, who I’ve known for over a decade. He used to work in the apartment complex where I used to live, and his wife is now among the army of caregivers working their asses off for my mother.

Today I handed over to him the keys to my New Beetle, #47,844 off the line in 1998, the model’s first year of production. Oh, and in case you were wondering, Leo didn’t buy my car — I gave it to him.

Everyone I tell this to can’t believe it, but for me it’s quite logical: He needs a car, and I have a car that I no longer need. Easy fix, right? Sure, I could sell it, and probably even walk away with a decent chunk of change. But I’d never know who would ultimately end up driving it, and rather than run the risk of my former ride falling into the hands of some posh uptown Super Sweet 16 type I can forever take satisfaction in knowing that I’ve done a good deed.

What I’ll miss:

1. That unmistakable thunk that every VW makes when you slam the door, trunk or hood. Just makes you feel, well… Safe.
2. Those indigo and red interior lights. I never got tired of that. Ditto for the dashboard so deep and wide that you could serve Thanksgiving dinner on it!
3. The road trips, even though we never really got farther than a couple of hours away.
4. The occasional impromptu drag race pulling away from a fresh green light. I usually won.

And not so much:

1. The hole of a parking lot downstairs from my condo, and the abuse my poor Beetle suffered at the hands of drunken 905ers who couldn’t score any phone numbers in clubland.
2. Watching gas prices go higher and higher…
3. The manual transmission, but only when stuck going uphill in stop-and-go rush hour traffic.
4. “Hey, is that a real flower in your dashboard?”