Blog Post 17 - My VW Beetle ’67 - A Project I Never Thought I’d Start

How the Seed Was Planted - Much Earlier Than I Realised

I didn’t wake up one day in Peru and suddenly decide to buy a 1967 VW Beetle. The idea had actually been forming over the years before. Looking back now, the first seed was planted while I was travelling Australia, driving my old Nissan X-Trail across long stretches of road, fixing little things myself, and realising that cars don’t have to be such a mystery after all.

Back then, I learned some basics out of necessity as well as curiosity. You’re far away, sometimes in the middle of nowhere. Things break. Mechanics aren’t always nearby - and are expensive - and you either panic or you learn some tricks so you don’t have to panic. I chose the second option.

During Covid times, I lived on a farm with a local family who took me in and treated me as one of their own. My Aussie dad, Nick, has been working on cars all his life and even builds engines from scratch. Before a big road trip, we went through my car together and he taught me the basics. Through him, I started to understand how engines work in general, and he gave me tips and tricks - for just in case anything would play up whilst traveling the Outback.

Still, even with the basic knowledge and experience, I rather paid someone to do those things for me instead of getting my hands dirty myself. Knowing and doing are two different things.

When Trust Was Broken and Curiosity Sparked

That changed in Darwin.

I had some serious issues with a mechanic in the far North of Australia. Beyond the general disrespect - being a woman, a foreigner, a traveller just passing through - he tried to sell me countless things my car supposedly needed. Of course I said no and just told him to do the things I asked for. This mechanic ended up nearly blew up my engine by forgetting to put the lit back on the oil after doing the service. His explanation afterwards? “I’m just human, not a robot. I make mistakes.” Which I get, however, even though he caused the issue, he had no intention of properly fixing it - discuss reimbursement or helping me in any form.

That was the moment I decided I’d rather trust myself than a random mechanic. At least I would double-check my own work before starting the car and driving off.

Later that year in Margaret River, my starter motor suddenly gave up on life. With Nick on loudspeaker and a friend helping, we managed to replace it - at the carpark of the Coles supermarket. It was a matter of undoing a few wires, three bolts (the hardest part), then removing the old starter motor, replacing it with the new one, putting the bolts back in the exact same place and reconnect everything - and the car started again!

The car started. We did it. Ourselves.

That’s when it really hit me: in essence, it’s not all that hard.

Somewhere along the way, Nick mentioned that old VW Beetles are one of the best classic cars to learn mechanical skills on. The idea quietly settled in the back of my mind.

Mexican Daydreams (That Stayed Dreams)

Anyone who has travelled Mexico knows: Mexico is full of Beetles! Parked on dusty streets, filling entire roads, still very much alive decades later. They’re affordable too — something I learned later is that for a long time they were also produced in Mexico.

I was tempted - very tempted - to buy one and travel with it instead of using public transport systems.

But reality kicked in when I started asking around and doing some research into this idea. Safety concerns, logistics and borders… And so the idea stayed with me as a dream - something for “later.” Maybe one day, when I’d be more settled. A hobby car. A future version of me.

Settling Down in Peru

In Peru, VW Beetles are considered affordable cars as well. After my visa was approved and I signed a contract for my house, buying a car suddenly made sense. It would give me more freedom - the kind I was used to in South Africa and Australia.

Collectivos - the local busses - generally work well, but they’re also a bit of a mission. Especially if you want to explore waterfalls, hikes, or places slightly off the beaten path. These adventures became a more complex matter of timing, negotiations, taxis, and detours.

For exploring without having to worry about the logistics, you want to have that freedom. Having a car gives your the option to go places on your own pace. It gives you the option to choose your own road and stop in the cute little towns along the way whenever you want.

And once again: Beetles everywhere. Different colours. Different conditions. Some from Mexico, some from Brazil, some from Germany.

I assumed a project like this was for my 40s or 50s — when life would be more organised, money more predictable, and I’d have a garage and a permanent address.

But standing there in Cusco, that belief no longer made sense. Life is too short. What brings me joy now? Why wait, if I’m financially able to do it now? Why assume learning, building, and messing things up belongs to a later version of myself?

Choosing Between an Easy Ride or a Rollercoaster

After viewing about ten Beetles in Cusco, I narrowed it down to two:

One was ready to go. Brazilian. Polished. Functioning perfectly. All windows in place. All the roadworthy papers in order.

The other was more… IKEA-style. Not broken, but unfinished. A German classic that would ask more of me: an investment of time, patience and money.

A lot of friends told me they’d go for the first option - the easy ride. However - of course - I chose the second one. (That saying: better to fix a car than trying to fix a broken boy, right?!)

Learning as I Go — and a Lot of Joy

Now I’m learning as I go. I bought a toolkit. I ask questions. I learn a lot of Spanish car vocabulary along the way. And honestly — it’s incredibly empowering.

With every small thing I fix or understand, the car feels more mine.

The Pink Beetle That Never Was

Somewhere along this journey, the idea of a pink Beetle appeared. A Barbie car. Half joke, half fantasy. In town, I’d been given a nickname that played with that image of being a Barbie in the Andes (yeay for my blonde hair!)

For a moment, I loved the idea: I could imagine myself cruising through the stunning Peruvian landscapes in a bright pink Beetle. Loud. Funny. Impossible to ignore. A statement that would attract attention. And I like being in the centre of attention.

But when I decided to buy this particular Beetle, I chose not to repaint her. She’s still wearing her original color and was repainted about a year ago. Repainting her a Barbie pink now feels wrong. This color is part of her original story.

So, the pink Beetle stays an idea. A version of the story that could have been. And this Beetle stays exactly as she is and will soon be restored, respected, and brought back to her original classic state.

More Than Just a Car

This Beetle isn’t just a vehicle. She’s a reminder that I don’t have to wait for some future version of myself to start something that brings me joy right now, in the present moment.

I don’t know exactly where this project will take me, and it does require dedication. But I do know this: I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. And I wouldn’t trade this messy, greasy, beautiful learning curve for an easy ride.

Definitely follow along for more adventures - and if you’re in the area, give me a heads-up. We’ll take her for a spin.

With warmth,
Kimberly 🌻