The Sterlings' Super Beetle

Defending The Family Car's Honor...From The Family

Whenever an idea strikes me, but it isn’t weekly, quarterly, or rainy-day anthology material, you may find it under the given title of a QUICK BYTE.

Dashed out and ran on the spot, this will be an infrequent interjection to the usual RED LIGHT BYTES fare, likely to lean more into the humorist/slice-of-life side of things. By virtue of their impromptu nature, they shall always be FREE to all readers. Enjoy.

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“48…49…50. Now our lil’ Thunderbug should fire up fine!”

Jane Sterling had suspected Buck was showing off to the kids again, though it seemed that deadlifting her cream-colored Super Beetle was just good exercise for the gray-furred father of two.

“The blood pumping yet, you two?” the red wolf teased.

Buck set the car down gently. “Yes ma’am.”

“And you sure you want keep driving it?” his wife pressed. “At least let us re-rig the pedal assembly and get the seat fixed or something so you’ll fit better.”

The stocky gray shrugged, throwing his tank-top back on. “Ain’t the lil’ fella’s problem I’m built like this, so he ain’t gotta change for me.”

He shifted the driver’s seat as far back as it could go (all of two inches) and slid right in. None of it bothered him. The buff hound playfully drummed on the steering wheel and patted both brake and clutch with a sandaled right paw. He made room for his left when he threw both pedals down and turned the key, the engine now humming politely.

Jane made sure their tan-furred pups were all buckled up for the stunt-filled drive, and took her seat up front. While daughter Laci was happy as a clam by the sea, Junior was none too fond of the Super Beetle.

“Why can’t we take the Jeep, Dad?” the six-year-old asked. It wasn’t sulking, but the irritation in his voice caught Buck quite off-guard.

“It ain’t built for those mountain roads either.” Jane added innocently.

It was like the whole clan was ganging up on the poor thing! Such an affront was something Buck would not stand for, though he made the point in his own, gentle way.

“We’re taking him,” he began quite nobly, “because our lil’ Thunder deserves some love too! If it wasn’t for this cute critter, I would never have met your momma and you two would never have been born. And I want to keep him just the way I fixed him that day.”

The way Jane’s eyes lit up said it all, and she cozied right up to Buck before he turned his attention to their son. “Besides, the way I keep him up, he could race circles ‘round the Cherokee.”

“Bet not!” Junior teased.

“Oh yeah?” snickered his father. Buck ripped the car into gear, popped the clutch and rammed the throttle down, the Bug leaping onto its back wheels and tearing off. The only thing louder than the little engine’s roar were the delighted cries of his children, and the guffaws of his gal, all thrown back into their seats as the valiant little machine raced into the desert. It was a case made flawlessly.