My earliest car memories are all Volkswagens. My parents brought me home in a Beetle convertible. In the late ’60s, we crossed the country in a Microbus. I learned to drive in a ’64 Bug. My first new car was a 1984 GTI. I’ve owned a bunch of VWs since then — only the Porsche crest has spent more total time in my garage.
That GTI was special. Not just because it was my first new car, but because it was a great car. An icon, according to no less an authority than the late David E. Davis. That car carried me across the country and eventually across the world, until it gave its life on a Danish highway. I’ve wondered more than once what it would’ve taken to get me out of that silver box if it hadn’t been totaled that night in 1987. It’s hard to imagine what car I could’ve wanted more back then. The Mustang GT that replaced it was a fun car — loud, dramatic, fast — but if I’m honest, a lot of my car journey since then has probably been an attempt to re-create that GTI feeling.
So here’s the obvious question: why don’t I own one today?
After two Jettas, two GTIs, and a Passat wagon, why isn’t there a VW in my driveway right now? I think the answer has two parts. First, Volkswagen’s stubborn refusal to give American buyers its best products, especially when it comes to engines and trim levels. Second, my own changing tastes. Let’s talk about both.
For decades, VW has had this maddening habit of denying the U.S. its best stuff. Again and again, they’ve sold us mediocre cars with underwhelming engines. There are a few exceptions — the GTI and the Golf R still carry the torch, but mainstream VW in the U.S. has mostly been, in a word, boring. Oh, and expensive.
Take the brand’s bestselling vehicle, the Tiguan. You’re asking about 180 horsepower to move an SUV that weighs nearly two tons. That’s not “confidence,” that’s surrender. VW will point to the 220 lb-ft of torque and call it fine, but the bottom line is simple: these cars feel slow. I’ve driven them. As my 2015 Porsche Macan S got older, I genuinely wanted to fall for the Tiguan. I even knew it wasn’t a fair comparison. But the Tiguan left me cold — waiting for power that never really showed up.
So, problem number one is Volkswagen itself. Up against the competition, their cars are often overpriced and underpowered.
“But the GTI!” you say. And yes, absolutely: the GTI still exists, and it’s still kind of wonderful. I had a 2019 GTI SE for a few years, with the six-speed manual and the so-called “Experience Package,” which I bought during peak COVID from a nice dealership in Petersburg, Virginia. It was an outstanding little car — fun, quick, efficient. I really tried to love it.
And here’s where the second problem comes in: me.
I didn’t keep that GTI for even two years. Why? Because as much as I don’t love admitting this, I’m not that 22-year-old kid anymore. And that’s who the GTI is perfect for. It’s built for the hungry version of me from 1987, not the version of me in my early 60s trying to summon that feeling back.
Somewhere along the way, I realized that as brilliant as the GTI still is, it just wasn’t my car anymore. A little too small. A little too noisy. A little too “weekend cannonball run and Waffle House at 2 a.m.,” and that’s just not my actual life now. I tried, dammit. But then Carvana made me a ridiculous offer, and that GTI turned into another Macan S. Which, if I’m honest, fits who I am now a lot better than a nostalgia project ever could.
So that’s where I’ve landed. My VW roots run deep. The GTI will always matter to me — it’s part of my personal origin story. But aside from that car, Volkswagen’s current lineup leaves me wanting. And the GTI? As the old saying goes: you can never really go home.
Kleine GTI, est ist prima aus!
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