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March 28, 2007



um. vas?

did you know how hard it is to wire a 1968 variant dash into a 1970 variant? i never could get the gas gauge to work right.

Dale Hazelton

Tell us a story to go with the pictures!

Derek Rowe

Ahhh...a melange of Type 3's....I can hear the left front cylinders overheating from here.

Tip-A-Roo: Downshift and go slowly up "The Grapevine" when leaving the City of the Angels.

Mike Lupica

A story? OK -- here's a quick one. My family had a light yellow Squareback in the 70s. I have many fond memories of being driven around in it to baseball games, movies, friends' houses, and all that other mock-pastoral crap that people mention when writing about their suburban upbringings. One day, my mom was driving me and my friend Tommy home from school in the Squareback, and as we neared his home, the back seat grew very quiet. When we reached his house, he thanked my mom, hopped out, and ran inside. When we got home, my mom discovered that Tommy had strategically placed his mouth over a small opening between the backseat and runningboard, and vomited into the tiny crevice that was created there. I have a strong memory of my father walking from the garage to the car with a bucket of cleansers in one hand, and rubber gloves in the other. I can't remember if my mother called Tommy's mother to tattle on him in that weird way that suburban moms do, but I'm certain that I regarded him weirdly all the way through high school because of that strange incident.


Ah, beautiful. My Dad had a red one with light blue carpeting inside. I loved that car. It was a great sounding car too.


Type 3's, always better looking in my mind than type 4's (wait. . . are these type 3's or 4's? I always used to get them mixed up, as I only owned the more common type 1's and 2's).


I remember losing some precious kid thingy down the crevice between the hatch and the rear seat. I also remember our Type 3 having to be towed back to Philly after breaking down on Route 72 on the way back from LBI. Thanks for the recall, Mike.


Holy crap, Mike, what a story! Or rather, holy upchuck! Heh. I always like your stories.


I got a green squareback new in 1973 when I graduated from college. I was NROTC, and ended up stationed in Spain in 1974. It was the perfect car for the narrow streets and all. Loved that car - put over 100,000 on it, and finally traded it in around 1982.


It was 1973, or maybe '74 or '75 . . . who can remember? We were on the Dan Ryan Expressway near the midnight hour, eight of us crammed into a squareback, trying to make a midnight showing of Fellini's "Satyricon," at a northside Chicago theater. Stoked on acid, coke, and pot, our swift drive into the city came to a sudden halt at an accident scene. A semi-trailer had tipped over and a very large tow-truck had strung a cable across all of the lanes to try and pull it upright. We had a grandstand view, being at the front of our lane. The most paranoid of the group, it occurred to me that the straining cable might snap and whipsaw its way in our direction, leaving our squareback and us somewhat decapitated. After a quick emergency conference, we scrambled out of the car, leaving the driver to fend for herself with the sage advice to duck if the cable snapped. Gregarious to a fault, we began schmoozing with people in cars further back. Suddenly, traffic began to move and we quickly ran to the shoulder where we saw our squareback leading the pack. I ran my personal best that night to catch up to the car. We walked into the theater as the opening credits rolled.

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