Saying goodbye to the Volkswagen Beetle

In early 1945, with the allied forces advancing, the SS was clearing workers’ camps, sending inmates to Bergen-Belsen, before American troops occupied the ‘Stadt des KdF-Wagens’ in March of that year, liberating forced labourers and later setting up a maintenance works for allied military vehicles.

The rest of the story is better known. On 5 June 1945, the plant was handed over to Major Ivan Hirst of the Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers. By the end of the war, 336,000 Germans had signed up to the KdF savings scheme, but not a single car had been delivered through it. Thousands of Kübelwagens had been made during the previous six years, but only dozens of saloons, so the British military government commissioned 20,000 VW saloons be built to meet transport needs during occupation.

Hirst restarted production and, later, the VW’s design and tooling were offered for sale to British car makers. None were interested in it, reckoning they wouldn’t be able to make a sales success of the car.

They were wrong. In 1949, VW ownership returned to the German government; by 1950, 100,000 Beetles (or Type 1s, as they were officially known) had been built. The millionth example rolled off the production line in 1955.

Simple to fix, in plentiful supply, easy on petrol, cute to look at, and brilliantly advertised through campaigns like ‘lemon’ and ‘think small’, a million Type 1s were being made each year by 1971 and the car was so adored that The Love Bug had grossed £39 million at the box office. If you wanted a small, cheap, reliable car to bum around California in, the Bug was it, its infelicitous start in life largely forgotten.

And so, when it was replaced by the ‘new Beetle’ in 1998, that car had a flower holder on the dashboard. The third version, driven here, arrived in 2011 and was unusual in being officially called Volkswagen Beetle. And now it too is going out of production, with no replacement imminent. You can still find one new in the UK, and production goes on until next year, but VW has stopped taking orders. So where to take one for a last drive? And what it is like?

First question: to the seaside, south coast, because it’s sunny and peaceful and chilled and if you squint it could be SoCal. Plus, I like a Cornetto.

Second question: it’s a bit like the old Golf, only less spacious. But still, I rather like it. This one’s a 1.2 turbo with an easy power delivery, a sweet gearshift and a gentle ride afforded by retro wheels with large sidewalls.

The interior’s halfway to cute – there’s a slab upper dash reminiscent of the original’s, complete with diddy glovebox – but otherwise it’s just functional. And although it obviously resembles a Beetle, it hasn’t quite struck the same chord as the Type 1 or the ’98 car. It isn’t a total pastiche, which is commendable, but neither is it as sweet as a new Fiat 500, nor has it forged its own new identity like Mini has.

So it’s off. That’ll be it. After 80 years of, in one form or another, ladybird-backed Volkswagens being produced, as of today they’ll be no more – a fact that perhaps warrants more attention than it’ll get.

What’s next, then? At the moment, nothing. But the Beetle could be back, as a four-door, battery-electric vehicle, as part of VW’s upcoming ID range of EVs. It’d be Beetle-shaped and once again with the motor driving the rear wheels. With, this time, optimism from the outset.

The Beetle’s greatest hits: 

TYPE 2: On a visit to Wolfsburg, VW dealer Ben Pon was inspired by a parts mover based on a Type 1 platform. His sketch helped VW engineers create the Type 2 Transporter.

KARMANN GHIA: Nearly half a million of these coupeÃs and cabriolets were built between 1955 and 1974. It wasn’t particularly fast, but the 2+2 sports car was low and pretty.

HERBIE: He wins races in more unlikely fashion than cars in The Fast and the Furious franchise, but Herbie is a sentient Beetle who, apparently, knows right from wrong.