No. Fuck you. This isn’t a car. I don’t know why we let the Polaris slingshit or the bikes pass but n-

Anyways, now that Monty has been locked away in my special room with no windows, we can proceed.

Sorry, I needed to lock him away for now, because this is a special one. Yes, it’s a true to form, boomer bait, bad-to-the-bone VW beetle-based sand rail. This thing gets more attention than a white guy at the cookout, and I think I know why. But more on that later. First, we’ve got the basics. It’s a classic VW beetle sand rail conversion, which was completed fairly recently (instead of 25 years ago) however the donor car itself is from 1971. However, the fact that it was built recently doesn’t dull the feeling of near-death you get every time ass touches bucket seat. Gotta check the fuel? Use the FUEL STICK. Where do you put your stuff? Figure it out! All the bare comforts of a basic classic beetle are non-existent.

When it comes to driving the thingamajigger, there are two distinct experiences. The physical driving aspect, and the unfortunate social aspect. For now, we can focus on the actual driving first.

First issue after clambering into the contraption; the pedals. More specifically, how far away they are, or perhaps how short they made me feel. Yes, I know I’m small, good things come in small packages, at least that’s what I’m told. Talking about size, this thing is sized oddly. Long but thin, like a speedboat. After the pre-flight check is completed, we can finally set off in the thingamabob. The very first thing you notice is the suspension, or perhaps, the lack of it in the front and the abundance of it in the rear. The front end stays put exactly where it is while the rear oscillates up and down crating a sin wave of a ride that figures itself out I guess. I totally wouldn’t trust it in a corner, but I guess I can put my foot down a little bit. And hey, when you do, it has some pickup. It absolutely has something to do with the lack of any body panels whatsoever, lowering the weight to something about the heft of a penny. However, the rapidly-aging power-plant does get out of its own way, which is perfect for running away from paparazzi.

In the 15 minutes I spent driving around town, there was a total of two (2) old dudes trying to talk to us, five (5) photos takes and constant necks broken. I’m willing to believe this gets more attention than a Porsche, dare I say, a Lamborghini. Not only that, but I hope you have private gas station because every time you fill up, it’ll be an hour ordeal with some balding white man talking about how “I had one back in the 70’s and we used to catcall the BABES out on the dunes in socal”. You CANNOT get away from the attention, which honestly makes the experience significantly less enjoyable (unless you’re a buff “influencer” with 2000 instagram followers). The freeing feeling of having no body panels is taken away by the sometimes suffocating stares from the general public. God I sound pretentious right now, let’s move on.

The whole driving experience is like nothing else, I can’t stress it enough. Of course the steering wheel is half-a-centimeter in diameter. The turn signals are like motorcycle signals, on or off. I bet you never thought self-canceling turn signals was a luxury. Shifting it like moving a spoon though a can of spaghettio’s, but what can you really expect. There’s little to no possible way to have a conversation without screaming over 20 MPH, but it doesn’t matter. The pedal has one of those weird little roller bearings on it instead of a normal ass pedal, because this vehicle tries everything to be as far away from normal as possible. The noise it makes is raspy as all hell, like the engine is constantly clearing it’s throat. And boy, can you hear it. It’s closer to driving a UTV than a car, and it even goes on the beach like it’s supposed to. No pavement princess here. Obviously no power steering, so the road feel is violently active. And remember what I said about the motor wanting to go? That doesn’t mean it wants to go fast, because the contraption is much happier cruising around in second compared to to anything else. 

It’s a joy to drive, the motor wants to go and die at the same time, the steering is vague and direct at the same time, it’s always at the end of two extremes at once. Front hard, rear soft, car loud, dick small, you get the idea. It’s sketchy, creaky, loud, windy and slightly terrifying. (I FUCKING LOVE ADJECTIVES) It is quite an experience, but something you gotta do once. Drive something that has the opportunity to kill you wherever you go, no matter how fast or slow.