It is often said that it is more fun to drive a slow car fast than a fast car slow. I’ve driven my share of slow as well as fast cars, and overall I agree with Abner Perney’s quote. Today’s story is about one of the cars on the slow side of the spectrum; and yes, I did have fun driving that slow car as fast as I could…which like so much in the 1980s was not all that fast, but good enough to move me down the road.
As hinted at the end of last week’s COAL – the one about the 1971 LeSabre (t c f t m w k w i a…or at least the car for someone who was trying to figure out what man I am) — by 1984 the Buick was a lost cause. Between the massive amount of structural rust and the increasingly constant breakdowns, it was clear that the Buick was done.
It was also right around this time that I managed to find a “real” job which would ultimately move me along a trajectory to my current career. Although at the time, I wasn’t so concerned about trajectories as I was about finding work with a guaranteed paycheck and a chance at the holy grail of health benefits. I’m rather sure that my parents – who still held some sway with 23-year-old me – advocated for this as well.
Living in Amherst, MA, a real job for me if not most people in the area was defined as something at the University of MA. After some time spent stalking the UMass employment office, I ultimately found a job as an office temp in a continuing engineering education program. This placed me simultaneously in an entrepreneurial program (all continuing education is by definition entrepreneurial), the education sector, and work involving engineering and technology. As it turned out — although I couldn’t have known it at the time — I had slowly started down a road that would be the one that has taken me to my current career. Slowly, but surely. More significant to me at the time, I had found a job that had an adequate paycheck and security for at least one annual contract renewal at a time. That was – and still is – a pretty big deal to me.
It was perfect for cobbing together the funds to purchase a car.
I still have the brochure, but not much else.
Through what I’ve written about my family automotive history, some have commented that it seems remarkable that the Suns – as clear devotees of imported small cars — always managed to steer clear of the 1960s and 70s VW juggernaut. I therefore suppose I have some explaining to do around why when it was time for me to buy my first new car it would end up being from Wolfsburg (via Westmoreland, PA).
The part that probably doesn’t need much explanation is my desire to ride the pendulum swing from a two-plus ton Buick to a car half that size. The fact is, I really had never been a Big Car guy, so naturally when given the chance, I leaned back into getting a Little Car. Actually, in my mind the Buick had been fun precisely and mostly for its ponderous – almost comical (to me) – size. Aside from its initial value as critical transport, the Buick served as an affectionate goof…a purposeful nod toward ridiculous (so I thought) conventional suburban existence within the context of my twenty-something college life, not coincidentally at a school that worked overtime to rigorously and haphazardly (we struggled to cover all bases) eschew everything and anything conventional or established.
It appears likely that the driver has decided to ride her horse to the nearest phone to call AAA.
Basically, the 71 LeSabre was my automotive equivalent of the hipster’s “ironic” fedora. Except my fedora had become illegal to drive in Massachusetts (said the guy at the inspection place) and drank an inordinate amount of gas just to travel between breakdowns.
While the Buick was useful for its size and as a literal vehicle for the kind of self-centered sociocultural commentary so important to many late-stage adolescents (and others), the bottom line was that in 1984 my life was changing and a giant car was no longer necessary or prudent. By then I had mostly settled into an actual house, thanks to down payment support from my newly-minted in-laws. I therefore didn’t need to move around all of my worldly possessions every few months. My wife’s daily driver at the time was a small truck, so in our new household, she had the “Big Car” thing covered. I really just needed something that could comfortably carry two people on road trips, commutes, and shopping errands around town.
My solution turned out to be another mélange of practicality and desire. Thereby setting up one of life’s eternal equations relating to vehicle choice (and pretty much everything else, but we don’t have to go there right now).
At the outset, it has to be said that on the side of practicality one can’t deny that Rabbit diesels were economical.
The EPA book that I picked up at the dealer clearly showed that the Rabbit Diesel had superior mileage.
A Rolls Corniche is a “subcompact”?!
See? 47. The largest number on the page! Despite the fact that it took some work to achieve 47 mpg, this was a big step up from the LeSabre and also most small cars at the time.
Another factor in favor of the Rabbit’s practicality was its cost. I’ve lost my original purchasing paperwork, but I recall paying around $4500 for it. This was about $2000 under sticker, and was achieved by a couple of days of (I’m sure rather incompetent on my part) negotiation with the dealer. I got several hundred for the Buick as a trade — rather generous, in retrospect — and the rest of the “discount” probably came from the fact that this car was a low optioned diesel car at the very end of the 1984 model year. In fact, it was a hold-over on the lot as the entirely re-vamped 1985’s were already arriving. The dealer was eager to get this white, no-radio, no-air conditioning, cloth interior, 4 speed manual off the lot.
The first thing I learned about having a white diesel car – something that undercut the practicality – was that the Rabbit traveled in its own little cloud of soot and grime. Sort of like Pigpen from Peanuts. The car was always dirty with black particulate matter. But, I could live with that.
The next thing I learned — something that is written about often in contemporary reviews of this car — is that 47mpg was difficult to maintain in the real world. Oh, I could do it and then some when taking long Interstate trips if I did not feel the need to rev high or do much passing. On trips like that, 60mpg was not entirely out of the question. But as soon as you got on it, and drove with any verve, mileage suffered. Unfortunately – for fuel efficiency — the Rabbit Diesel L still had enough of the driving appeal of its siblings with very much different powertrains. Whether it could do it or not, the car wanted to be driven fast.
Insertion of this famous 1984 GTI ad into a story about a diesel Rabbit may seem preposterous to some…largely because the GTI remains a positive archetype of the “hot hatch” and the spiritual ancestor of many of today’s fun to drive small imports. On the other hand, the Rabbit Diesel is generally used as a punchline to bad jokes about the 1980s.
But here’s the thing. That GTI ad was intended to do a number of things and it turns out that it did most of them well. The GTI helped reestablish a connection between Germany and VWs at a time when the American car-buying public realized that American-built VWs were not quite the same thing that Europeans were getting from their more domestic product. Particularly for the enthusiast market, VW needed to become more German.
In the manner expected of a halo car, the GTI served to at least temporarily revive flagging American interest in the VW brand. Drawn back into VW showrooms, consumers could be sold on less sporty (i.e., perhaps more practical to their needs) Rabbit models and interest could be drawn to the upcoming Mk2 refresh.
The degree to which all of that worked should be debated, but I will definitely say that it was a strategy that helped draw me into Westfield VW for a look-see. Once I was there, I found that what I actually had enough money for was a substantially discounted Rabbit Diesel L. The fact that it had a 4 speed reminded me of my original driving love – the Fiat – and was a welcome alternative to the very different Buick/Big Car driving experience. And actually, if you put your foot into it and suspended a bit of critical thinking, you could imagine a little bit of that GTI halo shining on you too. A little bit.
This partially explains the desire part of that practicality/desire equation I mentioned above. Ultimately it was all about compromise and slowly easing ones way into something that would ultimately be better. That’s what the late 80s were mostly about for me…as I flogged the bunny around the east coast, in its little cloud of soot, making clickity-clack sounds, biding time until something else could happen.
Back in its late 80s moment, my Rabbit served me well enough. In those days, we still frequently drove down to DC to see my folks and friends and to NY to visit my in-laws and a wide variety of friends who had taken up post-college residence in The City. The Rabbit was economical, spacious enough for two, and fun to drive…just not very fast or very distinctive.
In those days, particularly in a college town, Rabbits of all sorts, not to mention plain-Jane white ones were pretty common. In order to make mine stand out a bit in parking lots, I affixed a duplicate of one of the same bumper stickers I had on the Buick.
I still keep a Bub’s sticker around…and think about putting it on my current car.
You can just make it out in my final picture, below. An all you can eat bar-b-que restaurant was always something of a poke in the eye to a very left-leaning college town chock full of vegetarians. Therefore having a Bub’s sticker on the Buick had only seemed right; and not yet having quite grown out of my contrarian period, it also seemed to work on the Rabbit.
I’ll note that Bub’s still exists. I go there sometimes, and have taken my kids. It now even has a vegan menu option. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. If that should be your kind of thing.
Adding to my opinion that Rabbits are highly under-rated is the fact that mine took a beating and (literally) kept on ticking. Over the years that I had it, it sustained two significant accidents – once getting hard rear-ended while stopped at a light and again during an ice storm on the NJ Turnpike where it ended up as a Rabbit-sandwich between a large box truck and the guard rail. In both cases, it was repaired by insurance and put back on the road…clacking, smoking, and smelling like a very small bus or locomotive but as dependable as ever.
When I ultimately moved on from the Rabbit, it was for next week’s car and not because there was anything particularly wrong with the Rabbit itself. This would in fact be the only time I ever got rid of a daily driver without a practical reason – such as my feet going through the floor, the engine threatening to explode, or impending repairs that would cost multiple times the value of the car. None of these were issues with the Rabbit. Rather, in the end, the practicality/desire equation simply solved for desire.
I still kind of feel bad about that.
But really not too bad, because in separating from the Rabbit I made a pitch toward good carma by essentially passing it on instead of actually selling it. In those post-college days, always surrounded by friends and acquaintances who had various post-college jobs (i.e., something sketchy that had little guaranteed income) and yet a need for cars, I turned the Rabbit over to one such friend for whatever cash she had to spare. In short order she decamped in the Rabbit to Colorado. That was 31 years ago. My understanding is that she kept it for quite a while out there. I’d like to think (and actually suspect that I could be right) that she in-turn gave it to someone who needed basic, practical, transportation.
So there’s a chance that it’s still out there somewhere, becoming its best self. Chugging around the Centennial state with its Bub’s sticker, but bearing much less animosity to vegetarians. Dreaming like we all do of someday being a GTI…especially when going downhill. Uphill? Not so much.
(CC has discussed diesel Rabbits extensively in the past. I recommend those articles for additional and perhaps polarizing perspectives on this now largely vanished appliance. Like any good equation, this one seems to generate constant proofs.)
CC effect. Saw one of these on the road yesterday! In Milwaukee. I was on my bike & the Rabbit was next to me at a RR crossing that had gates down w/ no train anywhere near. Gates rose for a moment & off we went.
I know them well. You got a screaming deal on yours. Late in the 1985 model year I think I got them down to about $10.5K from the $12K sticker on my 85 GTI. I remember you could get lots of modest cars for maybe $7k, but the pickings got slim below that.
I am feeling pretty smug about my choice of a 1971 car that I moved on from around that same time. My slant 6 Scamp was evidently far heartier than your Buick and I was able to pass it along in the way you eventually did with your VW.
People can evolve from a contrarian period? It has not yet happened with me. 😀
I have been fortunate enough to pass along at least 3 cars that I can recall; the diesel Rabbit, next week’s COAL, and somewhere around about the same time an early 70s Volvo 142. I can’t recall exactly what year that Volvo was except that it was a 4-speed and so anemic (even relative to the Rabbit) that just didn’t feel like holding on to it. But since I’d gotten it for free, I felt that I had no choice but to pass it along equally free to its next owner.
Some of this all had to do with living in a college town where (as I said in the article) I was surrounded by folks who were passing through stages of life where something like a free or virtually free car might make a tremendous difference in their lives. Seems like the right thing to do.
Having already owned two used VW’s, by the time I had a good job and desire for my first new car in 1980, a VW Diesel pickup seemed to fill the bill for outdoor lifestyle and sharply rising gas prices. A trip to the dealer to see the ridiculous markup above sticker, even more that on a Civic at the Honda dealer, changed my mind in a hurry. A coworker had a new Westmoreland-built Rabbit. The car looked a bit too Americanized for my taste.
It was off to Ford for a Mk1 Fiesta instead. A leftover gold base model without even a radio, or a loaded bright green one with black and white houndstooth seats were both marked way down. I took the gold one and accessorized it to my taste.
A few of these still puff around in Sonoma County, California. I live near Cotati which still is of an “old grey hippies” repute despite the big box store whose tax payments keep the city from bankruptcy. It’s still an “old diesel Rabbit” kind of place.
Rolls-Royce Corniche was listed as a subcompact because the EPA classifies vehicles by interior volume, and it’s really that small inside.
Both my elder brothers bought first year two door Diesel Rabbits in Boston and loved them .
I was way out West and rattling around in a 1950’s oval rear window Beetle so the new Rabbit was an affront to me, it turns out they were indeed very good if basic little cars .
Still a few Diesel Rabbits running around Los Angeles, mostly in very good nick .
If yours had visible smoke it needed repair, mostly likely it had fungus growing in the fuel tank and this screwed up the injectors spray patterns .
-Nate
I recall that fungus was a concern and could also grow in the fuel filter if not changed on schedule. But that wasn’t a problem with mine. I didn’t have black exhaust, more just soot that was largely invisible until it landed and built up on a white car.
Fubguas grows in the _entire_ fuel system not just the filter .
if there’s _any_ soot, there’s a problem .
One brother bought a white Rabbit Diesel and never any dust on it anywhere and he never washes his cars .
Same deal with two of my Mercedes Diesels : neither the white nor the beige one _EVER_ had any soot on the bottom of the bumper where most do .
-Nate
I wanted one quite badly when they first came out. I was an efficiency maniac, and the combination of very high mileage with adequate performance was unlike anything else in the world. The Prius and Tesla of its time.
By the time the second energy crisis hit, I saw some being offered for sale at insane prices, up to $16k. You did well t wait a few years.
Ah, the “slow car fast” thing! I drive a 50hp VeeDub of the arcooled variety as my DD and enjoy it immensely. Just came back from a Chicago to Auburn trip (CAD museum and South Bend Studebaker museums highly recommended) and the old thing plodded along at 70+ on the freeway and was a hoot on the backroads. Just plan your moves carefully, be in the right gear and let momentum be your friend. Proper concentration required, making every trip involving. Frustrations? Getting held up by 400+hp SUVs!
I’ll make a point of visiting Bub’s next time I’m in Massachusetts. Who would have thought that you could get good BBQ and hush puppies in New England??
Whenever I read about diesel Rabbits I’m reminded of the couple knew who owned one. They kept theirs into at least the mid 1990s, and it was the husband’s commuter car. He had a fairly long, mostly highway, commute to work, and loved the Rabbit for its economy. But I remember saying that commuting was all he used it for… his wife was terrified of having the kids ride in it, so they always rode in the family’s Taurus instead.
Anyway, this was another enjoyable read – thanks!
I wrote a COAL about my Rabbit Diesel and I had several over the years. By far the best were the 1980 cars, still made in Germany and with the upgraded 1.6 litre engine. It made four more horsepower but significantly more torque.
As for real world MPG, I got about 50 Imperial MPG on mine, so roughly 40 MPG in US gallons. It didn’t make a whit of difference with either city or highway driving, it always used the same. Being young at the time, my right foot spent a lot of time on the floor so better mileage was surely possible. I remember $17 taking me three weeks and I drove a fair bit.
No Rabbit Diesel I ever drove felt “slow.” The motors were smooth and flexible in the VW traditional way. Their modern engines are much the same in that regard.
I too was living in Massachusetts when I bought my ’78 Scirocco (40 years ago this past January) and haven’t bought anything else since. I sold my ’74 Datsun 710 back then, and a couple years later moved to Texas, where I’ve lived ever since, buying 2 more VWs, an ’86 GTi, and my current car, a ’00 Golf. All of them have been gasoline, 8v, standard transmission (the Datsun was my last car with an automatic).
Small cars were selling well in 1981, and interest rates were sky high, but I was selling a small car (the Datsun) even though it was a few years older than the Datsun, it still wasn’t inexpensive…though I had started my first professional job, there was no way I could have swung a new one (only started the year before) though I was lucky that my manager was also the president of the credit union (a volunteer position, our jobs had nothing to do with banking nor finance), and though I was only eligible for a $3500 loan due to the short tenure as credit union member, he wangled an extra $500 which made the difference, even used, the Scirocco wasn’t inexpensive.
I bought 2 more VWs in Texas, my Scirocco wasn’t air conditioned but I kept it till I got the ’86 GTi, something I couldn’t have done nowdays since the traffic in the city I live in has gotten much worse, and seldom being in traffic back when the city was 10x smaller made being air-cooled (me, not the VW, never owned aircooled VW though my Dad had a ’59 Beetle for a couple years in the 60’s). My current car is going on 21 years, may need to get an automatic due to terrible traffic here and my advancing age, since no one else knows how to drive manual in my family, and I’ve been incapacitated a couple of times such that working a clutch was a pain in my leg.
Pork barbeque seems more common on the east coast, though I like it fine, beef is still predominate in Texas. We’ve gotten some more east coast food in the time I’ve lived here, but still not quite the same…my departed Father’s best friend even opened up an italian restaurant in Texas but it isn’t quite the same as back on the east coast. I still have cousins living in Massachusetts but sadly my recent trips back have been for funerals, I don’t get to return nearly as often as I would hope to.