THE VOLKSWAGON BUG

The Volks Wagon Upchuck

As a young junior high school student looking to make some money, I had a neighbor named Mr. Haller, who delivered Newsday newspapers on the North Shore of Long Island.

Every Saturday I got in the back seat of his Volks Beetle and a pile of newspapers and off to the North Shore and his route to deliver his papers. He paid me and I was happy to have the job. It paid for stuff that occupies a young teenager and it made me feel like I was responsible for the job and Mr. Haller.

There was one problem, however, sitting in the back seat of a Volkswagon riding the roads of the North Shore made one's stomach queasy. As the deliveries went on along the winding and up and down roads, my stomach became weaker and weaker, to the point that a cold sweat would begin to form on my forehead.

To make matters worse, it was the middle of the dog days of August, the heat and humidity taking a toll along with nausea that went with things. Add the smell of newsprint and you had the perfect storm to heave, maybe on Mr. Haller's head. I was miserable.

Did I ever say anything about how I felt? NO. I wanted the job no matter how sick it would make me. It was money found with hard work and I was taught that you never turn down work.

I was the real originator of the Volkswagon Bug, the real bug.