The last VW Beetle rolled off the line today.
81 years.
That is a long time to be everywhere and doing everything. It started as a cheap car for German workers, then became an American obsession, and eventually put half of Latin America on two wheels. Now? It’s a collector’s item. People pay good money to own one. It’s gone where few cars have gone. It conquered dirt, mud, snow, even the frozen wastes of Antarctica where it hauled scientists around. It carried millions through the smog of Mexico City.
Here is how that happened.
A Simple Machine for Hard Times
Ferdinand Porsche knew how to build fast cars. The 16-cylinder Auto-Union racers proved that. But early on he had a different idea. He wanted a simple machine. Affordable for a factory worker. Radical then, obviously boring now, when everyone assumes cars are expensive.
Adolf Hitler liked the idea. He gave Porsche the budget to make it happen.
The brief was strict. A 650-kilogram four-seater. One liter engine. Roughly 26 horsepower. Top speed of 62 mph. And air-cooled, so it wouldn’t freeze in winter Germany. The prototypes looked like the car you know today.
Type 60: The State Builds Its Own
Officials wanted to outsource the building to existing manufacturers. They didn’t.
In 1938 Porsche built the first prototypes, the Type 60. It looked nearly identical to the production model. A state-owned factory would handle assembly.
War Chassis, Peace Time Soul
Only 210 Beetles were built by hand before World War II started.
Porsche’s design team went to work immediately. They lifted the suspension. Added four-wheel drive. Swapped in a stronger engine. From that same chassis came the Kubelwagen, and the Schwimmwagen which could float.
Germany’s answer to the Jeep? Built in Germany, fought in Europe, bumbled around North Africa.
The French Refusal
This part is fun.
In July 1940 German officers occupied a factory in France. Citroën’s assembly line was quiet. Early prototypes of the 2CV sat there, waiting.
The Germans asked for three cars. Promised Hitler would be the only one to see them. Promised no competitors would know. Then they made an offer. Trade the design for their “people’s car.”
They never named it in the documents. But they did offer to send Ferdinand Porsche to Paris to explain the engine.
Citroën wasn’t interested.
The Germans returned five more times with the same pitch. Each time, the French said no.
On the final visit the Germans brought an actual Beetle into the showroom. Citroën management watched the engine cover the car with a tarp. Ordered their staff to look the other way. Ignored the most iconic car of the 20th century.
Why bother building what you don’t respect?
Citroën used the cover story to completely redesign the 2CV in secret during the occupation.
The Germans left. The Beetles stayed away. And Citroën went back to making cars the Germans didn’t want.
So here we are. The factory in Mexico is silent now. The machine is done.
