Euro-spec single headlight GTI. Drool.Turn 10 Car of the Week: Volkswagen Rabbit GTIBy J. Mason
The
first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem. OK, here goes.
I have an unhealthy passion for the Volkswagen Rabbit GTI.
Now
hang on one second, Sonny Jim. Is an addiction to one of the most
iconic cars ever, the soft-spoken car that created the term “
Hot Hatch”
and launched a series of clones, really a problem? My depleted bank
account may think so, and the scars on my knuckles probably agree, but
those in the Volkswagen
cult community think otherwise (and they want
me back in the fold, where it’s safe and warm).
It all started
very innocently. Back in high school, a friend who was also a
remarkable driver and mechanic owned a tan Rabbit C four-door. On a
cold January morning he offered me a taste for free. “Dude, it’s
snowing. I’m picking you up and we’re hitting some parking lots.” At
the time I didn’t own a car because 1) I grew up raised by a pack of
wolves, and 2) stupid me focused on an education rather than an
after-school job. But look at me now!
I digress.
After
a day full of five-passenger four wheel drifts, quick stops at the pay
phone for SkyPager callbacks, and tire-smoking burnouts on ice, I knew
I must own a Rabbit. I was addicted. Quick research revealed that only
one model of the Rabbit would pass muster: it must be a GTI. Where else
could you find 90 horsepower, 0-60 in under 10, .8g on the skidpad, a
close-ratio gearbox, and enough space in the trunk to smuggle a buddy
when escaping campus for a Fat Burger?
Snow plow!The
Rabbit GTI was everything a red-blooded high school sociopath could
want. Throw racks on it and you could haul four clowns up snowboarding,
passing 4x4s in ditches, without breaking a sweat. Don a helmet, take
out the spare tire, run a full lapping day at your local track, and
have enough gas in the tank to get home! Put two12s in the trunk for
all the Wreckx-N-Effect rump shaking bass you can handle, and still fit
in three bags of groceries. And the best part – it’s small, quiet and
nearly invisible to the local constabulary, a must-have feature for
anyone asking their car to perform
backroad tom-foolery.
So I
bought my GTI, and I modified my GTI, and I raced my GTI, and I wiped
it down every weekend and thanked it for the joy it provided. In return
it happily raised an inside rear tire whenever I pushed it to the
limit, and it went those few extra miles when the gas gauge was buried
way too far past empty, and it contently clicked and cooled when I
parked it in my garage. I wonder where it is today.
Took another sip of the potion, hit the three wheel motion.Hey!
I think I’ve just reached my twelfth step to recovery -- spiritual
awakening. I may need another dose of Rabbit GTI. Anyone know a good
dealer?
Images courtesy of www.toutypasse.com and www.promosporttruellois.com.