We Need to Drive it Where?
The next day we arrive home on our lunch hour and cautiously get in the bus, realize that the seat belts are currently of no use and start her up. Miraculously, between the squealing of miss-aligned front tires and the grinding of trying to find the evasive gears, we make it the mile to the downtown police station. The officer's expression was priceless as he walked out of the station and caught a glimpse of our yellow beauty. He remained stern and made no comment, but a look was worth a thousands in this case. He confirmed the VIN matched the title and sent us on our way.
After a few more lines, forms and signatures at the courthouse we were officially co-owners of a shiny new 1973 VW Westfaila Campmobile. Maybe those adjectives are a bit too flowery for our new baby, but sometimes it's a face only a mother and father can love...rust spots, squealy tires and all.