I saw an ad for a car for sale this morning, the sort of car that, normally, I’d be very interested in. It was an ad for a 1964 Volkswagen Beetle, and it was in incredible shape. It was also selling for an absolutely bonkers one million dollars, which even for a Beetle fetishist like myself is the same level of insane as toothpaste made from live wasps. Why is this Beetle selling for a million dollars? Because it has only 22 miles on the clock. That’s also why this would be a miserable car to own.
I’m not saying this Beetle isn’t valuable, or even isn’t worth the money—it probably is. It could be the most original, like-new Beetle in the known universe, and as such it’s sort of a priceless thing. It’s got every original sticker on it, the hubcaps are still in dealership boxes, it has little parts and fittings I’m not sure I’ve ever seen on a Beetle outside of pictures in an owner’s manual. It’s incredible.
But owning it would be torture. And not just this ultra-low mileage car—any ultra-low mileage car. I can’t imagine a more frustrating thing to have than an ultra-low mileage car I really love.
Because cars are best appreciated by driving them, anything that’s valuable because of how little it’s been driven is going to be something that you inherently can never truly enjoy. And I think that would be a path that leads to madness.
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Look at that visor sleeve thing! I’ve never seen that! It’s amazing that still exists! Damn.
I’d kill for a mint-condition mid-‘60s-era Volkswagen, but part of why I’d commit such an atrocity for one is because I’d like to drive it. The idea that you could own an amazing car but if you actually used that car, the value would plummet and you’d be a fool just makes no sense to me.
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I can imagine walking by the keys to the car every day and every day being tempted, and every day having to remind myself what a bad idea it would be. That doesn’t sound like fun.
Sure, you could argue that you could just say, fuck it, it’s only money! and drive the thing, but then you have to wonder why not just buy one of the many other perfectly restored, high-mileage cars that you can drive as much as you want, absolutely guilt-free? The low-mileage car just makes no good sense, if you actually want to own a car.
Sure, cars like this are important, but they’re the sort of thing a museum should own. For actual, car-loving human beings, ultra-low mileage cars are just cruelty.
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If you found an old dome light for a Simca in a junkyard, and were cleaning it, which caused a genie to be released, and that genie offered you the finest, most perfect, most delicious gyro ever created in the history of food, that’d be amazing. But if that genie then said, wait, you can’t actually eat that perfect gyro, then you would be well within your rights to call that genie out on pulling some serious monkey’s paw bullshit. That’s exactly the case with ultra-low mileage cars. They’re amazing things you can own, but can never really enjoy.
It’s rare that I’m happy that I don’t have anywhere near a million dollars to blow on an old VW, but in this case, I think I am.
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