Author Topic: August 2004 - JR Friesen  (Read 3506 times)

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ColoradoB5

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August 2004 - JR Friesen
« on: August 02, 2004, 02:31:12 PM »
I never really had a love for cars. Not like my dad and my younger sister. I thought cars were cool, especially if they were fast, but that was about it. Growing up, the garage almost always had a Euro in it and my dad’s hand with a wrench in it. I was constantly asked, much to my chagrin, to help with a starter here, a water pump there, “Give me a quarter inch socket will ya?” I hated working on cars.

I liked riding in them though. Getting slammed back in my seat by the 944’s 250 ft/lbs of turbo'd torque or flying down the interstate at 120+ in the Mercedes were always the highlights of my otherwise mostly eventful life, until I graduated from the passenger seat. Then came the Fox.

I was 17, been driving for about 3 years and it was my second, but first REAL car. My dad found it for 12 Franklins. I paid half, he paid half. He was really proud of that car. I wasn’t, at least, not at first. It was the worst color in my opinion: Brown. That nasty, California-banned brown. The dirty, sun-faded brown that only cars come in. But hey, it was my car so it was cool. It was….VW. A 4-door, 1988 Volkswagen Fox.

I could fit my bass rig (I was touring at the time), my tech (younger brother), me and our luggage in that car and still do 120mph down a hill. She had a CD adapter, stickers on her windows and custom seat covers. She went with me all over the state of New Mexico. A year and a half, thousands of miles of high desert, no speeding tickets, and my first enjoyable wrenching job (muffler), I drove around that state, just bonding with my car. Then, I left for school.

My sister was home and using my car. My sister was on her way to work and had a head-on collision in my car. Thus ends the life of my 1988 VW Fox (my sister was fine and so was the other lady). Our driveway went from 3 Americans and 4 Euros to 3 Americans and 3 Euros. (oh, and quick props to my bro for burning out, then replacing the clutch in that car too.)

After I married, my 4-door, 3 cylinder, ’87 Civic began to lose yet another cylinder. I wanted VW. My wife wanted Jetta. I donated the Civic and went to the dealership to buy a Jetta I had seen listed. The listing was wrong. “What else do you have?” I asked.

Enter Elegant Green 1999 VW Passat 1.8T GLS 5spd (used lot right)



I drive it home. My wife drives it all around the neighborhood. I drive it back. We sleep. We eat. The next morning, we drive to the dealership and buy the car. Then I see a sign on the dealership door: VOLKSWAGENS ON THE GREEN 2003.

My wife and I arrive to a wonderful sight. I liked toys, but for some reason didn’t like cars to an extreme growing up. Then I spy a Passat with 20” wheels…and more Passats with big wheels behind it. Instantly, signals shot to my brain from eyes and told me: cars are cool.



Taking in the row of B5’s, I like the look of one of them and I ask this dude sitting in a hippie-esque circle on the ground, “What’s been done to this car?”

“Oh, that’s Wendy’s car but she’s off somewhere else right now.” He stated, smiling from ear-to-ear. “I’m Winston.”



The happy-go-lucky grin and out-stretched hand engaged us and we chatted with him for a few minutes. If I only I had known what he was really thinking...

Walking back to the car, I said to my wife, “He was cool.” She turned to me and said, “Can you lower our car? It looks like it has a lift kit.” I laughed and put my arms around her smiling. “I sure can honey.”



Thus it began. I joined the social-excuse to spend excessive amounts of money needlessly, my wife drives around real fast, and I still dream about driving a modified car. But I do it all with the best bunch of guys and gals I've ever known.



Meanwhile, back at VWOTG '03:

Winston: I’ve snared another sap with my deceptively good looks, winning personality and engaging enthusiasm...it feels so good to entice another ingnorant car-lover over, over to our money-sucking, social excuse we call a car club so we don’t have to be alone in our deranged sense of fun. Welcome to RMCB5....
You can't rehabilitate a fire ant.