Volkswagens

                              

The People's Car. Fahrvergnügen. Das Auto. Think Small. It's Ugly, But It Gets You There...

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.

                 How little did I bond with the GTI? This is the only photo I can find of it. A Porsche 

                 barbeque run after a motorcycle crash left me unable to get into my 911. It actually 

                                                                      kept up fairly well...

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.

#9 1991 Audi 200 Turbo Quattro

Living in Germany for nearly six years gave me a true appreciation for speed. The stories are real: there are stretches of the autobahn where you really can go as fast as you want. Granted, these moments are somewhat rare due to traffic, construction, and weather, but they do exist. And I took full advantage of them, starting with my GTI and continuing with the 911S, Mustang GT, and the Eagle Talon.

But no matter how quick they were, my cars were never the fastest machines on the road. If you’ve experienced the autobahn, you know the true kings are the big sedans from Audi, Mercedes, and BMW. You could be cruising along at 120 mph, and suddenly one of these titans would appear in your rearview mirror, left turn signal flashing, moving much faster. And I wanted one of those.

As I approached my return to the United States, I began looking for a U.S.-spec car I could bring back with me. I got lucky and found an Audi 200 Turbo Quattro. Despite its modest five-cylinder engine putting out 220 horsepower, this big panzer could cruise at high speeds for hours. Its all-wheel-drive system (a novelty at the time) provided excellent traction and stability. Sure, the Mustang GT could reach those speeds too, but it was a much more dramatic, white-knuckle experience. The rear wing was more for show than aerodynamic function. The Audi, by contrast, exuded stability and confidence. You’d glance down and realize you were going 125 mph or more without even noticing.

But the Audi wasn’t just fast; it was luxurious and refined. The trunk was massive, the backseat roomy. In many ways, the Audi was my first “adult” car. And although mine was bright red, it wasn’t flashy. The 200 had a serious, classy demeanor. If you can’t tell already, I loved that car… for a while.

While I was enjoying my Audi in Europe, the brand was facing disaster in the U.S. In 1988, the TV program 60 Minutes aired a now-infamous report about alleged safety issues with Audi vehicles, specifically concerning "unintended acceleration." According to the segment, Audis were suddenly surging forward without driver input, causing over 700 accidents and six deaths. Audi responded with recalls and fixes, but the damage to the brand was done, despite the fact that the real issue was largely driver error.

When I moved to North Carolina in 1994, the 200 started giving me trouble. My internal speed sense didn’t mesh with American speed limits, and I racked up a couple of bad tickets pretty quickly. Whether it was my frustration or just bad luck, the car soon developed several expensive mechanical problems. And since the 200 was rare in the U.S., parts were difficult to find and service costs were high. I realized it was time to move on, only to discover the car was nearly worthless. Audi’s resale values had been decimated by the false 60 Minutes narrative.

I made the best trade-in deal I could after failing to sell it privately, and bought what I thought would be a more responsible, practical vehicle for life in the suburbs.

Guess how long that lasted?

#8 1991 Eagle Talon TSi All-Wheel Drive Turbo

 

As my time at Fort Lewis, Washington, wound down in the summer of 1991, I faced a tough career decision. The details aren't important, but in the end, I chose to take an assignment with troops in Germany rather than moving into a more administrative Army job stateside. And that meant I was going to need a different car.

My 1989 Jeep Cherokee was a fabulous vehicle. But its best qualities—sure-footed four-wheel drive and a spacious interior for ski trips—wouldn't be much use where I was going. No, the land of the autobahn required something that could do more than about 85 mph. So, I started looking.

At the time, I was attending the Army's Combined Arms Services Staff School at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, and that’s where my search began. I initially looked at used Porsche 911s, but my budget just wasn’t quite enough to get me back into Porsche ownership. That journey would take another 10 years.

Turning my sights to "lesser" options, the newly released Eagle Talon TSi All-Wheel Drive Turbo caught my eye. (That’s got to be one of the longest car names in history!) The model had an interesting history. Marketed by the Chrysler sub-brand Eagle, it was essentially a Mitsubishi Eclipse and was even built alongside the Eclipse (and the Plymouth Laser) at a joint assembly line in Normal, Illinois. Interestingly, today Rivian uses the very same factory for electric trucks and SUVs. The Talon was sold through Jeep/Eagle dealers, and I found two in Kansas City. Both were demo cars with a few thousand miles, and both were white with white wheels and a black roof. It was a bit odd by today’s standards, but in person, it was a striking car. This was the high-performance Talon, featuring a two-liter, 16-valve, turbocharged, dual-overhead-cam engine producing 190 horsepower—quite a lot for 1991! Additionally, the car had all-wheel drive, which was rare in a sports car at the time and a real plus for both aggressive handling and bad weather. And so, I said goodbye to the Cherokee and rejoined the ranks of sports car ownership.

One element that drew me to the Talon was its interior. It fit like a glove, with a pistol-grip gear lever and a fabulous set of gauges. It was a lovely place to spend time, and spend time I did. Honestly, other than the perfect driving position of my later Porsche 944s and 968, it may be the best cockpit of any car I've owned. 

Life with the Talon in Germany had both ups and downs. On the upside, the car was blindingly fast. It could run past 140 mph and easily cruise at 120. The all-wheel-drive system provided astounding grip on fast, sweeping curves, particularly when diving into autobahn onramps and interchanges. However, one challenge that emerged was the brakes. While fine for a U.S.-oriented car, they faded quickly if asked to haul the car down from high speed more than once or twice. And when a VW Golf pulls into the fast lane as you’re bearing down at over 100 mph, good brakes are kinda important.

Even though the brakes weren’t quite up to the task, the Talon was big fun on my occasional weekend forays to the Nürburgring. Yes, that fabled track was just two hours from Kaiserslautern, where I was stationed. While the internet has made the ‘Ring world-famous today, back in the early 1990s, it wasn’t as well-known. Depending on whether a manufacturer was testing or there was a race scheduled, most days you could just roll up, pay the guy at the gate 10 Deutschmarks, and hit the track. It was that informal—and that thrilling—and that scary. I had lapped the track once in my Mustang GT a few years earlier, but now that I lived so much closer, the ‘Ring became almost a monthly adventure. I learned quickly to watch my mirrors, particularly for sport bikes. I wasn't racing, just working on driving as smoothly as I could while lowering my lap time. On a good day, that place is magic.

Needless to say, such hard use took a toll on the Talon. I went through tires quickly—Goodyear Gatorbacks in those days. And though I upgraded the brake pads, it was still dicey coming down from speed. Finally, the car suffered a significant oil leak that necessitated navigating Chrysler Corporation warranty repair in a country where these cars weren’t sold. Eventually, that was sorted out, and the leak was repaired at a German Mitsubishi dealer under warranty. I may have failed to mention taking it to the 'Ring.

In 1994, I decided to return to the United States and leave active duty. I shipped the Talon to North Carolina, along with my newly acquired Audi 200 Turbo Quattro... but that’s a story for another day.

Please read my note about the photographs used in this blog.