That old bug, the old blue 61 Volks, with its little engine, and lack of power, well it did take me a few places Bought Junker, in the fall of 62, yeah that was 40 years ago, forty years on one old car, driving to and from work and running around town, well lots of towns, for during the time I owned Junker, I have lived in eight different places around the US of A.

And lordy, oh lordy, the times I have had in that old car, well the times BM, before marriage that I had. It seems that lots of young and middle aged ladies loved to ride in a Bug, Beetle, or whatever you wanted to call them. And it seemed about 75 or 80% of those ladies wondered one ting, and one thing only. Could you in a VW?

Land O' Goshen, it is a good thing that old bug cannot talk for if it did, oooh the stories it could tell, and the smiles that would be forthcoming. Well if I have time maybe I could tell you a couple, but first I better get back to the topic at hand.

Junker turned 237,000 miles in mid June, and I sort of let it be known that I felt old Junker was on his last legs, and oh boy what happened next, that I must tell you. I got up on the seventh of July, planning on going fishing; just me and Old dog, were going to wander some trout streams and while away the day, but when I went out to get in Junker, he was gone and instead, there in the driveway was a brand new Jag, yes maam, a 2002, Jag, the most beautiful blue you have ever seen, and it had the old license plates from Junker, "2-JUNKR" the plates I had run for the last twenty or thirty years.

I walked around the new blue Jag, and Immediately I knew what had happened. The wife some years back had bought some Jag stock and it hadn't done diddley, but then Ford bought them out and they Americanize Jag. Man I walked around it about four times, looking, and Old dog he finally just walked over to some grass and lay down, waiting to see what I was going to do.

My wife came out, all smiley and her face did get solemn when I asked, "What did you do with Junker, what did you do with my car?" I was loud and adamant, "Where is my car, where is it, Pearl, what did you do with it?" She saw how excited I was over the new car but at the sadness at the loss of my Junker. "Ah, old man it is in the barn, and the real plates for this car are in the glove box, I just did it to see if you really liked that old car more than I."

Well, I remember the first time I went to the high country fishing in Old Junker, just me and Bill Simms, I know you remember him, he was the guy with the tall thin body, long arms, and great big Adams apple with a big shock of black hair? Well anyway we were over on the Platte where we had a great day, fly fishing, and just enjoying the day when a big storm blew up. We hurried up and started to get out of there, for the rain it was coming, and coming hard. "Look out the bridge is gone, the bridge is gone, Bill said as we came flying up the road along side the river, and sure enough the bridge was out. "Ain't no other road out of here, for this one just goes up to a sawmill and cattle camp," Bill said as all at once there were tree limbs and stumps floating down the river; a river which is not very deep but is wide and has little pockets and channels four or five feet deep in places. Reminds me of an old Mary Robins, about the Platte in Nebraska, a mile wide and six inches deep.

I stop and we dig into the glove box and find an old BLM map and sure enough it shows there is no exit except this one from the south side of the river. Then I look over on the other side and there is a sand bar, and the river is like a small beach, and I get an idea. "Want a thrill Bill? Want a real thrill?" Then he spots the other bank and the gleam in my eyes, "No, you are not are you?" He read my mind for Bill and I had grown up and he knew that I was prone to silly and wild stunts.

I shook my head, turned around and slowly drove down the road, until I got to the large parking area for fishermen. I turned around, looked at Bill, tighten your seat belt and batten down the hatches," I yelled as I gassed old Junker and held it wide open, first gear, second gear, and then into third and I went off the bank wide open in third. We hit the river and the momentum, and the pan bottom on the old Junker, did what I thought.

"Oh my god, you did�����.," Bill yelled as he grabbed the little handhold bar in from of him. We hit the risen river and the little bug just hit skipped, and glided, sort of skipped, across the river and on the sand bar. I had it wide open in third and we just kept on rolling, plowing and up over the love gradual sloping riverbank and onto the road.

"Whee, that was fun," I said as I backed up and turned around and started up the road home. "Well Bill at least we don't have to walk."

I looked over and Bill was grinning, and he had that little dash mounted handrail thing a ma bobit in his hand, it had broken off.

I opened the door of the new Jag, and immediately notice the right hand seat had an old blanket on it for Old dog, so we just got my fishing gear and took off for the hi country. Now if you see a pretty blue Jag and an old man with a big old dog with him, just wave and say hi, and you know what, I bet this durn new car won't float?