This 1977 Volkswagen Scirocco Was a Refreshing Taste of Champagne

As a budding gearhead, the transition from cars of the college years to those of the career years was instant and profound, as a steady paycheck enabled moving from cheap castoffs to cars costing thousands. In 1979, good employment thus netted me a nearly new Volkswagen Scirocco. After a coworker praised his '76 model, based on the Rabbit but sporting a rakish Giugiaro body design, I joined the club with this mint, low-mileage 1977 Champagne Edition, which I'd found nearby for $4700.

Compared to the $300 Triumph TR6 it replaced, the 1.5-liter fuel-injected Scirocco seemed like a Mercedes-Benz 300SL. The doors closed tightly, the sound insulation excelled, and the Platinum Metallic paint and interior materials were faultless. I had never owned a car with such stellar and fit and finish. And that tartan upholstery? Well, it reminded me of Jackie Stewart's F1 helmet. I had arrived.

Some surprises eventually emerged, including that one door had previously been VW Lime Green. Annoyed, I called the seller, who confessed that the original had been stolen while the car was being serviced. (Aside: Who steals a door?) When I finally decided that the MacPherson struts were inadequate, I replaced them with Konis. The swap took all day and resulted in perceptibly different front and rear dynamics best described as "sketchy."

No sooner had I gotten the Scirocco "dialed in," however, than a move from California to Florida for grad school dictated change. The VW obliged, with a U-Haul box on its roof, a bicycle riding the tailgate, and my stereo, electric typewriter, slide rule, scuba gear, Igloo cooler, and current girlfriend all squeezed inside. The whole rig totally gave off a Grapes of Wrath vibe.

That Igloo came in handy, it turns out, as the air conditioning faltered in Texas, in August, making for one sweaty ride. But it wasn't enough. The last straw for my passenger was camping in Texarkana, Arkansas, and witnessing an armadillo scamper past the tent at night, as cicadas sang loudly in the stifling heat. Adding to the sadness of the "See ya!" that soon followed was that I was now once again confined to a student's budget, so the Volkswagen didn't get the love it deserved. I eventually sold it, lazy A/C and all, plus a suspect alternator and a sticking odometer.

In 2018, I contested an SCCA autocross at California Speedway in a 2004 Mini Cooper S. Another entrant had a race-prepared first-gen Scirocco. When I told him I'd owned a sweet Champagne Edition for a time, he really lit up. "Are you kidding me?" he exclaimed. "Those are so rare!"

Another one bought right but sold too soon…