Pegasus Gliding Club had a constant stream of cars, almost all Beetles, passing through on the way to the scrap yard. While struggling to pass the TUV test, they still did sterling service towing gliders or pulling out cables from the winch.
One such Beetle was stretching a new cable, with the big American V8 on the winch maintaining the tension. When the V8 began to win, the Beetle driver failed to hack the high speed rearward tow, and the ensuing roll ended that car's use.
Arriving on the airfield after the set-up for glider flying had begun one day, I was a little surprised to see my 13-year old son parking one of the Beetles in line. He had been taught to drive by other gliding club members without my ever noticing.
I went one of many farewell beer calls, and at this one the departing person became quite emotional about his experience. He sadly described how, during his tour, his work had not gone as planned, his father had died, and his wife had left him. He had felt that the final straw had come when his beloved old car, a 2CV, had failed its roadworthiness test. However, he pointed to me and said that the single redeeming event in this catalogue of disasters was when I had offered to take the car for the gliding club, where he was sure it would serve a long and honourable retirement from road use. I managed to keep a straight face, and I think that he was unaware until his departure that we had already managed to wreck the gearbox and sent the car for scrap the day before the beer call. If he reads this here, surely time will deaden the blow.
