Sleeper of the Year, 1974

Unlike Ludwig, this is a deluxe Campmobile--the propane tank hiding out under the sliding door powers the integrated stove (Ludwig just has a compartment), and it has an actual fridge (Ludwig just has an icebox).

The Turn of the Screw

The puzzle of bent metal that shrouds an air-cooled VW engine is largely held in place by dozens of what are apparently called "cheesehead" screws, and they're all straight slot (re: annoying). The slot is nice and wide, and as Melcher told me long ago, you want to use the biggest tip that will fit any given screw. So I usually use this fat little stubby, but I could probably still go up a blade size.

This ratcheting screwdriver is perhaps the tool I'm most disproportionately and undeservedly proud of. Well, I ought to be, it took over fifty bucks to get it off the Snap-On truck in 1996. I think I like it so much not merely because it's a great screwdriver (it is), but because at least two people whom I've wrenched on cars with hate using it: Melissa and Colin.
They used to make them in a variety of colors including neon green and hot pink, but now it looks like they only come in orange or black. Mine is yellow, of course, for reasons inadequately explained in a previous post.

So when others--for reasons beyond me--complain about that yellow beauty, I toss them this trusty Craftsman.

File under Fire

For a chunk of the early and mid 1990s I was what I guess you'd call a heavy smoker, up to a pack a day sometimes. When my habit kicked in, during the waning days (literally) of high school, I was smoking Drum and Three Castles rolling tobacco nearly exclusively. For a while afterward I got lazy about rolling them so I smoked Old Golds but would often pine for that unfiltered bite and buy a pack of Pall Malls or Lucky Strikes.

Soon after I'd begun smoking, Melcher (who'd turned me on to the foul weed) bought me this Zippo, engraved "Sonny" obverse, and "WHC" reverse. "WHC" of course stands for "Wolfsburg Hurricane Club" and "Sonny" is my code name within that organization, Melcher's being "Cisco", and McDonald's being "Leadbelly" (APA citation: Dylan, Bob (1962). Song to Woody. On Bob Dylan [cass].).

Besides that you need a way to fire up your smokes, you need a lighter when working on cars to shrink some kinds of wiring wrap and connector ends, start your brake pads and shoes on fire to clean them (really!), and to see if a particular material is flammable or not (not advised).
I'm a sucker for certain classics and can't imagine owning any lighter except a Zippo. Yeah, those butane things will fire up in a hurricane, but they're too gadgety for my taste.

Maybe you and a Volkswagen were made for each other.

Maybe.

Timing Light

During the nascence of my enthusiasm for air-cooled Volkswagens, I often had occasion to help Melcher with his Beetles (a '63, a '74 Super, and a '71 Standard; none driven concurrently) in addition to my own car ('73 Fastback). We always used his timing light, a really good (re: expensive) one if I remember correctly. Certainly of a brand good enough to honor a lifetime warranty. Despite its pedigree, it had an annoying tendency to short out so you had to whack it once in awhile while using it, and even then it didn't always flash at each firing. It made timing the engine kind of annoying.

But it didn't seem annoying at the time because it was the only timing light I'd ever used, not that I thought it was supposed to work like that. When I got and started using my own timing light in the mid-1990s, I retrospectively understood just how annoying it had been. It flashes when it's supposed to! Replace or fix your timing light for chrissake, Melcher.
Hint: if you hook up your timing light and the engine stalls out when you pull the trigger, you have the red clip clamped to the wrong post on the coil.