When the heating worked, it was great since the small interior space warmed up quickly. When it didn’t, winter travel was miserable. I was a nursing instructor at the time, and though my college office was 20 minutes away, I also met students at the hospital twice a week which was 40 minutes away. My routine was to throw my hat, mitts, scarf, jacket, and a small blanket into the clothes dryer until I was ready to go; I’d bundle up and with luck my teeth wouldn’t start chattering until the last quarter of the trip. The more important problem was the pitiful defrost. I’d spend most of the trip steering with one hand while I scraped the interior windshield with the other, maintaining at least 4-6 inches of viewing space. Does this sound a bit dangerous? Fortunately I’d get lucky on occasion when some of Calgary’s  more manageable winter temperatures (the infamous chinooks) would prevail.

It was a pain in the butt getting the heater repaired. It would last for a while, sometimes a whole season, then bum out again. The end of my beetle days finally came when I took it in for an overhaul during the summer and got no action for three weeks despite my phone calls. When I finally went in to find out why, the employee at the front counter called up the mechanic and I heard him whisper “… I know… but no one wants to work on a bug…”. A flash bulb went off in my introverted brain and I marched the mechanic to the car. I calmly told him to pile all the removed parts lying around into the trunk, and that I would not pay for any time spent so far. I backed up with everyone watching and I drove that car home, hardly thinking about the heater but pretty darn impressed with my assertiveness! I still smile at the thought today.