Goodbye GTI

I have owned some cars that are generally considered to be horrible. Actually, here's the whole list of cars that I've owned in order, with the last four being cars that I currently own, or in the case of the Willys, co-own :

1. 1984 Plymouth Horizon

2. 1990 Dodge Dynasty

3. 1991 VW GTI

4. 1992 Audi 90 20V Quattro

5. 2006 VW GTI

6. 1969 Ford LTD

7. 1973 VW Super Beetle

8. 1984 Porsche 911

9. 1987 Lada Signet

10. 2001 Jeep Grand Cherokee

11. Willys CJ2A

I'll leave it to you to decide which ones are junk and which ones aren't, but I can say quite honestly that I miss each of the ones I've sold/ruined -- with the exception of the 2006 GTI. It's the only car I've let go without regret.

I was, in fact, thrilled to be rid of that car. So thrilled that I let it go at a huge loss, and drove four hours for the privilege.

I'd watched the rollout of the MK5 GTI in Europe and read the reviews. I watched TV hosts thrash it. I went to the dealership to ask when I could get a black one with the 0 package -- plaid seats, stick, no sunroof. When the dealership -- Traverse Motors of Traverse City, Mich. told me that there were no package 0 cars in the whole state of Michigan, I called my cousin who was then a VW employee and had her e-mail me a list of the black, package 0 GTIs that had been delivered to Michigan dealers. Turns out there were quite a few.

I bought a black, package 0 GTI from Traverse Motors and I left work early to pick it up. I showed it to my family, my friends, and my coworkers. My parents were proud. A couple of times I acted like the kind of person I'd always hated the very most, the showy asshole.

I made a CD with Mp3s of rap songs on it. My friend Carl, who was the only DJ I could ever tolerate and whose opinion I respect, said it was a great mix of songs. It was great. I packed four people into the GTI and drove it to the beach, drove it all over the state and endangered myself, some friends and a bunch of strangers by driving way too fast for public roads. I never thought I was immortal; I just failed to understand that my driving too fast could destroy someone else's life. I'd never seen a life destroyed before, or at least I'd never felt any empathy at seeing someone's life destroyed. I am ashamed to think about that now.

A friend got a DUI in the GTI when he ripped it into the parking lot of J&S Hamburg, only to find that the lot was packed full of underworked and soon to be overfed Traverse City cops. The friend had offered to be the designated driver, but he ended up blowing a .09 on his way to a night in the drunk tank instead. But the cops didn't impound my car, they shoved my tipsy ass into the diner, told me to eat and come back for the car in the morning.

I wanted to want the GTI, I wanted to be happy with it, but once it was mine I never did. It wasn't bad, but for a lot of reasons it was too easy. It was very easy to drive. When I sent it back to the dealership because the speakers rattled, they actually tried to fix it. Someone changed the oil for me. Owning the GTI taught me that I didn't want that kind of car ownership experience. For whatever reason, I like drama and distraction.

So I went driving around the hinterlands of Northern Michigan with a woman I would later attempt to marry (miserable, catastrophic failure) and I whined about how the GTI was cold and boring. I spotted a semi-ratty 1984 Porsche 911 in a parking lot and asked after the owner, who agreed to sell it, probably because it was the worst in his stable of five air-cooled 911s. I paid $300 for a pre-purchase inspection and went to the local bank for a $16,000 high-interest loan. I'm dating myself there. Yes kids, in the heady days of 2007, you could walk into a bank at 24 years old -- with a crushing mortgage and an existing car payment -- and walk out with a cashier's check for the full price of a decades-old sports car.

And then, I had to get rid of the GTI. I drove it to Kalamazoo on out-of-season snow-tires and pushed it into the hands of some kid from Chicago who literally could not believe the deal he was getting until the title was in his hands. It was the first car I ever bought new and it will likely be the last. As good as the car was -- and anyone will tell you that it's a good car -- I never loved it.

That Porsche, on the other hand, has seen me through some dark times, and I have responded by heaping abuse and neglect on it at every opportunity. I've pushed snow with it in the winter and shade-treed it near to death. Still, when I lose absolutely everything, they'll have to drag that thing off of my lawn.

By Rory Carroll