Not many of these are left running around the east coast. And even fewer that are still fuel injected. I had no idea what can of worms I was opening with this car, but after months of rust repair and electrical work, the car is in… functional condition.

Is it perfect? No. The floors were welded in instead of bolted in because there’s no shot you’re bolting anything to the underbelly of this beast. And the fuel injection works because of a potentiometer and a toothpick. But in the wise words of David Freiburger: “don't get it right, get it running.” I still refuse to carb swap this thing until it’s absolutely necessary.

The car has left me stranded many times, but with a face like that, you can’t stay mad for too long. Oh! And he’s named Fargo, which actually has a two fold meaning.

Upon purchase, the name was short hand for “how far will I go to fix this car?”

Now that I can drive it, the name is short hand for “how far will this car go before it conks out on the side of the road?”

It’s not the most glamorous VW, but not all cars have to be clean to be cool.