Though we were totally 3 siblings- brother, sister and me, the youngest- we always considered ourself 4 in the family, the fourth being our dear dear Volkswagon Beetle Car.
The Bug was such a part of my growing up that I cannot even imagine it is no longer in the family. The car was lemon green in colour with a air cooled rear engine. It was a 1960 model with a nice number KLD 7525. We bought it from Dr.Raghavan in Vadakara in 1972, when father got a promotion and was about to leave Vadakara. Prior to our buying it, we had seen the gleaming car with chrome plated bumpers taking Dr.Raghavan around on his house calls in Vadakara. In the days of Ambassadors, Fiat and Standard Herald the VW was a traffic stopper. For the childless Dr.Raghavan, the VW was as close to a child as he ever had. He bought a 1966 model VW and suddenly the dream car was available for sale. Father had to use up his entire savings of 17 years - Rs 17,000, a princely sum those days for a 12 year old car.
It was our first car and for a 8 year old boy, it was the high point of his life. I can still vividly remember the long journey from Vadakara to Palakkad as also the attention it drew when father took me to enrol in the school. The VW remained only one of its type in Palakkad for more than a quarter of a century. Most of the people of that period knew my father, who was the Executive Engineer in the Electricity Board, or even me, but even if they cant remember either of us, all we had to do even today is to mention our VW and their face will lit up.
Maybe I tasted the benefit of being different from my VW. The car, made famous by the movie in which it is the main protagonist called HERBIE, was instantly recognisable from a distance or even from the sound emitted by the more noisy air cooled engine. From 1972 to 1978, my job was limited to sitting on the right hand side seat (it was a left hand drive car) and shifting the gear rod when father pressed the clutch. That was my initiation to driving. I longed to drive the car and envied my brother who was 8 years elder to me and who drove it around with ease. Being an old car, it had its own share of breakdowns and prolonged spell in the Workshop where Ramachandran mama fondly molly coddled it back to the road. Mama, who owned the workshop, genuinely loved our VW and used to welcome it like a prodigal son whenever it made its customery visit to his garage.
It was the summer vacation of 1978. I had just finished my 9th standard when I was travelling on the Chittur - Kozhinjampara road with my father on the wheel. The road is sparesely travelled but ran through some of the most beautiful paddy fields you can see. But it was summer time and paddy fields were barren. The heat was oppressive as it was around 3 pm on a April afternoon. Suddenly father pulled over and asked me casually 'Is your leg long enough to press the clutch fully?'. He had watched me play around with the stationary car behind the steering wheel the past few days. I said 'Yes, almost'. " Good, then come over and sit on the drivers seat". So saying he opened the door and casually walked to the passenger side. I slipped behind the wheel. He got in, and said only this " Drive". Remember, it was an open road, not even a ground and I had never tried driving in my life. I was a puny 38 kg lean boy of 14. I didnt need a second invitation. This was what I have been waiting for the past 6 years. I put the car in the neutral, started it, pushed the clutch, shifted to first and released the clutch as if I had done this all my life. The car started with a jerk and then stabilized, with the wheel a little wobbly. Since the Engine was in the rear, the steering of a VW Beetle was very very light, even lighter than a power steering. I still dont know how I did it nor do I understand the confidence (foolishness) of my father, but it was as if I had been driving it for ages. The car felt so much an extention of me that first time, and since.
I drove without licence for 4 years, taking father around most of the days in his official duty after coming back from the school in the afternoon. Everyone knew I was driving without a licence but no one cared those days as father was well known. And 'Swamy's son basked in his reputation. Since that day in mid april, I was the charioter to my father. We must have driven more than one lakh kilometers together. He, always sitting on my side , with his hand loosely over my backrest. If I am slighly careless in driving, he will gently press my shoulder with his fingers. That was my signal to buck up. We discussed everything under the sun on those drives - from politics, to sports, to career, to books , to family issues, to abortion to gossips to advice. The VW was a mute spectator to the unique bonding the father and son had. I am sure without the VW and all those kilometers on the road, we would never have become so close.
When I turned 18, I applied for a Driving Licence. Father had a word with MVI Chandrasekharan Nair. He called a AMVI and asked him to take the test of me. The AMVI, a short dark guy, was pissed off as he just didnt like the fact that I had come with a wasta. He gruffly asked, 'Which is your car?". When I pointed to the VW, his eyes lit up. He jumped into the passenger seat and asked me to take off. He made me drive 25 kilometers all the while crooning about the car. When we returned he remarked 'Ha! I always wanted to travel in that car'. Then with a flourish he signed my license papers, not even bothering to check if I could drive a two wheeler properly, for he was supposed to take the test for both.
I created an uproar in Victoria College when I took the car while in my Pre Degree 2nd year (+2). Those days only 3 of us had a scooter or a bike, and forget car. You can imagine what my feelings were taking a foreign car to a mixed college having 2000 girl students.
The Car had many nicknames coined by onlookers. It was called 'mootapoochi' meaning 'Bug', the locals called it 'Aama Car' meaning the tortoise and to the next generation in our family it was just the 'Thatha Car' - 'Grand fathers car.
By 1984, I moved out of Palakkad and the VW also started feeling its age. Ramachandran mama died and his son did not have the passion to find ingenious solutions to the problem like mama had. Getting spare parts became a problem. Once I travelled 48 hours to Delhi to have an armature rewound. As years rolled on, father retired, and with me moving out, the VW also slowly entered the retirement phase. It spent more days in the house car-shed than on the road. Father reduced his driving after he had a heart attack. For some bizarre reason father had the car repainted dark blue, and for once he didnt consult me. I was aghast at the change and could never accept it. It was as if a part of me had broken off forever. Maybe the Car also didnt like it. The next 3 years, it was idling in the porch before one of my cousins, who was a leading truck operator, took a liking to it and asked father to sell it to him. We could never bear to sell the car. Since the boy was so eager to have it, father gave it to him as a gift. It was lifted to one of their trucks and was shipped to Mumbai over road. I never saw my beloved car again.
Since then I had the fortune of owning so many cars - Ambassadaor, Tata Estate, Maruti 800, Lancer, Mazda, Dodge, Grand Marquis and GMC Envoy. But I never had a sentimental attachment to any one of them like I had for my dear Beetle.
Maybe father knew, for within a year of the Car leaving our house, he breathed his last. It was a double whammy. It was as if a huge part of me was torn away from me, leaving fond memories that evoke a small pain in the corner of the heart once in a while.
