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Tesla tires turning on Stretchla Vanagon EV conversion project

It is one thing to say you are going to Frankenstein a Tesla Model S with a pair of Siamese-twinned Volkswagen Vanagons and quite another to actually start taking your newly-acquired, smashed-up electric sedan apart in an effort to bring it back to life. Otmar Ebenhoech is doing just that, and having no small successes along the way. The Stretchla project, as it is being called, has officially started and our protagonist has put together another bit of video to document his progress and let us know about some of the different challenges he's encountered and conquered. While our original post about this endeavor featured video of the stretched Vanagon's drivetrain removal, this latest installment focuses on the Model S. Otmar received the Tesla in less-than-operable condition. Otmar received the Tesla in less-than-operable condition and has been tackling some of the basic problems one might expect to encounter: lots of error messages and an electrically disconnected battery pack. Without the aid of a manual or technical diagrams, he's removed the battery pack and discovered why it wasn't sending power to the car. Scroll below to watch the ten-minute presentation and celebrate some initial victories. You can also check out the official Stretchla blog for more photos and updates, including the most recent one that discusses how he talked himself into paying (*spoiler alert) $42,000 for a wrecked, non-functional electric car, along with more recent struggles with the steering rack. Hit us up in the comments to let us know what kind of trouble you would get into with a Model S drivetrain of your own. This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings.

Last VW bus ever made arrives at final destination

A Brazilian politician tried to save it, unsuccessfully, so the final Last Edition Volkswagen Type 2 Kombi was produced on December 20, 2013 and now resides in a vintage museum at Volkswagen's Commercial Vehicles HQ in Hanover, Germany.
The Volkswagen Microbus was built for 56 years, starting in September 1957. Brazil was the last country still assembling it, but new safety regulations in the country requiring airbags and ABS on all cars spelled the end. When that politician introduced a bill that would pardon only the 'Bus from a death sentence, it couldn't garner the required number of votes for passage. The South American country takes the Kombi production title, though, with 1.5 million of the 3.5 million total made in the home of Copacabana beach and the girl from Ipanema.
The VW Bus is dead. Now perhaps we can turn our attentions to the still-not-totally-settled matter of the Bulli...

The super-sized Atlas isn't the three-row VW should build

In the late '50s and early '60s the Volkswagen Beetle wasn't ubiquitous in my hometown of Lincoln, Nebraska, but it came pretty damn close. Fords and Chevys dominated, but beyond the occasional MG, Triumph, or Renault the import scene was essentially a VW scene. When my folks finally pulled the trigger on a second car they bought a Beetle, and that shopping process was my first exposure to a Volkswagen showroom. For our family VW love wasn't a cult, but our '66 model spoke – as did all Volkswagens and most imports at the time – of a return to common sense in your transportation choice. As VW's own marketing so wonderfully communicated, you didn't need big fins or annual model changes to go grab that carton of milk. Or, for that matter, to grab a week's worth of family holiday. In the wretched excess that was most of Motown at the time, the Beetle, Combi, Squareback, and even Karmann Ghia spoke to a minimal – but never plain – take on transportation as personal expression. Fifty years after that initial Beetle exposure, and as a fan of imports for what I believe to be all of the right reasons, the introduction of Volkswagen's Atlas to the world market is akin to a sociological gut punch. How is it that a brand whose modus operandi was to be the anti-Detroit could find itself warmly embracing Detroit and the excess it has historically embodied? Don't tell me it's because VW's Americanization of the Passat is going so well. To be fair, the domestic do-over of import brands didn't begin with the new Atlas crossover. Imports have been growing fat almost as long as Americans have, and it's a global trend. An early 911 is a veritable wisp when compared to its current counterpart, which constitutes – coincidentally – a 50-year gestation. In comparing today's BMW 3 Series to its' '77 predecessor, I see a 5 Series footprint. And how did four adults go to lunch in the early 3 Series? It is so much smaller than what we've become accustomed to today; the current 2 Series is more substantial. My empty-nester-view of three-row crossovers is true for most shoppers: If you need three rows of passenger capacity no more than two or three times a year – and most don't – rent it forgawdsake. If you do need the space more often, consider a minivan, which goes about its three-row mission with far more utility (and humility) than any SUV.