I have a favorite CD of classic David Bowie songs performed by Seu Jorge whose astounding concept was to record these songs on acoustic guitar – in Portuguese. This is a pretty weird mash-up that I know I could never have conceived. These tunes were pouring through my head (and through my Turbo Beetle) as I drove my daughter and my mother to the Volkswagen Drag Races in Woodburn, OR.
Two by two, classic Bugs from the 50s and 60s tore up the strip, which was little more than an asphalt gash in a hay field sandwiched by bleachers and corn dog stands. Some had nitro for extra speed, popping wheelies at the start and clocking up to 130 MPH. Others chugged and wheezed and choked, literally burning their little rear engines to death, spewing all manner of fluids down the track in the process. Still others didn’t move at all, parked at the swap meet or shown in an alley of classics neatly nestled near each other with little room for intruders. Beautiful powder puffs in original, mint condition snuggle with black Bugs ornamented with punk studs and skull mirror danglers next to flower power daisy painted girl-worship-mobiles. A Vanagon evolved into a mini tow truck stood with good posture next to a Bug covered entirely in grass. Real grass, not weed in a metaphoric sense, which might be more expected at this type of event. No – some guys had tacked steel mesh to the car, plastered it with thick mud and applied grass seed, sun and water in copious amounts. I think there was also plenty of beer involved, though they wouldn’t admit that to me. Fully sprouted and freshly mowed, it took its place next to the rest, drawing a crowd to admire the detail of marigolds growing in the front bumper.
And, that’s the beauty of the Bug. It is as ugly as it is beautiful. It is Bowie in Portuguese – unintelligible to the naked ear, but as riveting as the first moon launch or an angry fist raised in protest to the empty sky. So, don’t ask why someone would trick one out to do 130 MPH in 12 seconds. Ask “why not?” That’s where you’ll find your answer.
Two by two, classic Bugs from the 50s and 60s tore up the strip, which was little more than an asphalt gash in a hay field sandwiched by bleachers and corn dog stands. Some had nitro for extra speed, popping wheelies at the start and clocking up to 130 MPH. Others chugged and wheezed and choked, literally burning their little rear engines to death, spewing all manner of fluids down the track in the process. Still others didn’t move at all, parked at the swap meet or shown in an alley of classics neatly nestled near each other with little room for intruders. Beautiful powder puffs in original, mint condition snuggle with black Bugs ornamented with punk studs and skull mirror danglers next to flower power daisy painted girl-worship-mobiles. A Vanagon evolved into a mini tow truck stood with good posture next to a Bug covered entirely in grass. Real grass, not weed in a metaphoric sense, which might be more expected at this type of event. No – some guys had tacked steel mesh to the car, plastered it with thick mud and applied grass seed, sun and water in copious amounts. I think there was also plenty of beer involved, though they wouldn’t admit that to me. Fully sprouted and freshly mowed, it took its place next to the rest, drawing a crowd to admire the detail of marigolds growing in the front bumper.
And, that’s the beauty of the Bug. It is as ugly as it is beautiful. It is Bowie in Portuguese – unintelligible to the naked ear, but as riveting as the first moon launch or an angry fist raised in protest to the empty sky. So, don’t ask why someone would trick one out to do 130 MPH in 12 seconds. Ask “why not?” That’s where you’ll find your answer.
SEE THE DRAG RACE VIDEO:
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