Volkswagen was pleased to announce in 1973 that you no longer had to worry about the reason you hadn't yet bought one of their "station wagons".

In 1955 Volkswagen Transporters were nothing more than commercial vehicles, albeit strange and relatively rare commercial vehicles—at least in the US. Volkswagen hadn't yet captured American hearts with their clever advertising and few people even knew what they were. Even so, a few Volkswagens did make it over to this …

Welcome to Down On The Street, where we admire old vehicles found parked on the streets of the City That Rust Sorta Ignored: Denver, Colorado. Remember the Veggie Tales Fiat 500? Here's a Transporter that parks on the same block.

When is your house not a house? When it's a Volkswagen Bus. ("Ja," said Tom, "but can you drive your house to get ein plate of schnitzel? I don't think so.") [via fuckyeahcarburetors]

While I was honeymooning in Telluride, Colorado, a couple weeks back, I spotted this Volkswagen with a license plate/bumper sticker combination you don't see very often on such vehicles.

Back around 1990, when I was a broke-ass slacker and figured out how to make beer for cheap, I got into making custom photocopier-and-glue-stick custom beer labels. You've seen Powerglide Road Soda, and now I've unearthed another old label.

This VW Bus was engulfed in a relatively violent conflagration until the heat becomes too much for a compressed propane tank inside. At that point, a staggering explosion blows the van inside-out.

Welcome to Down On The Street, where we admire old vehicles found parked on the streets of the Island That Rust Forgot: Alameda, California. Even though TITRF is home to numerous T2 Transporters, I've sort of ignored them. No more!

Customs inspectors doing a routine inspection on a container on its way to Europe discovered a VW Bus which had been stolen 35 years ago inside. The recently restored Bus will be going to the insurance company, not the owner.

Can the sense of freedom and joy caused by vehicles be expressed in a museum? Joseph Beuys’s Das Rudel does just that. With wooden sleds and hunks of fat.