ode to my Karmann Ghia

by Tim Broadway


Oh my poor, poor, poor 1970 Ghia.  How many months now has she been neglected? Maybe 8……or 9.  Oh how I’ve missed her.  The adjustment to power steering, push button windows, electric mirrors, steering controls, even heated seats-and a stereo-has hardly been anything but exquisite.  My resistance to forfeit stiff seats, leaky windows and smelly gas was a misguided attempt at nostalgia.  At the time, I felt the transition was maybe a little foolish and impulsive, and now that I think back on it, it was.  But nevertheless, it was definitely a step up.  What I do miss, that my new chariot cannot possibly, at all remotely compete with, were the head turns.  I still drive the new girl around expecting people to look at my car in astonishment and awe, and, to my surprise, they do not.  Then I remember, I am driving a Subaru, not a moving work of art.  For now I wish that she was still my number one girl, and I do still drive her, as she runs like a swiss watch, and looks as good as one too!  But alas, you can only be in one car at one time, one room at one time, and due to this neglect, she goes unappreciated.  Maybe I will put her in my living room, so I can look at her at any time, start her up once a week, sit in her and watch TV.  Eat dinner. (I don’t think so).  Something must be done.  Because I am starting to believe that there is absolutely no justification, rationalization, or validation for having two cars.  When I was a kid I dreamed of it.  A stable of them.  My own harem of vintage beauties.  Seasoned with age.  Made like they don’t make em’ anymore.  But you know what?  that would cost too much.  I don’t need a mechanic on the payroll.  But what can I do?  She’s waaaaaay too pretty to break up with.  They gaze in awe as we slide by.  One of a kind. Paprika.  A body style like no other Ghia.  Unique design restricted to that one year only.  What can I do?????