Four Kids, One Hippie Bus, and Zero Regrets, A VW Bus Restoration
- May 15
- 9 min read
There's a version of this story where I tell you I bought a vintage Volkswagen bus, restored it beautifully, used it as the perfect Southern California family beach vehicle, and sold it for a profit. That version is mostly true. The part I'll add is that when all was said and done, I was about $2,800 in the hole, and I would do every single bit of it again.
It Started With My Brother
I grew up with Volkswagens. In high school I drove a red VW Fastback, and I was genuinely proud that I could maintain it myself. I had the Idiot's Guide to Volkswagen Repair — the original one — and as a 16-year-old I could change the alternator, swap the battery, and top off every fluid. It felt like a superpower.
But the car I really wanted was my brother's. He had a blue and white micro bus, and to me it was the coolest thing in the world. He could go anywhere in it — beach trips, camping, hauling friends. It was freedom on four wheels. I was jealous then. I never really stopped being jealous.
I moved through a yellow Super Beetle next (bought from a cousin for a few hundred dollars, drove it until the steering column gave out), and then life moved on. But living in Santa Monica, you see VW buses constantly. They never stopped being fun to look at. And somewhere around 2016, with four kids ranging from preschool to middle school and a life that revolved around the beach, I decided our family needed one.
Finding Her on ClassicCars.com
I did my research on ClassicCars.com and found a 1971 bus that looked promising. I was able to vet the mechanics remotely and felt confident enough to pull the trigger — $14,198 for the bus, plus $1,300 to ship her from the Midwest. In hindsight, I'd do one thing differently: hire an expert appraiser at purchase, not just at sale. I ended up with a car that needed significant transmission work that a trained eye probably would have caught upfront. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
The delivery was an event. ClassicCars.com makes it easy to arrange transport, and when that car carrier came down our street with a 1971 VW bus on top, the whole family ran outside. Watching her come down off that truck was genuinely exciting — the kind of moment that makes you feel like a kid. Was it a lemon? Had I made a terrible mistake? The car started right up. It had a sticky first gear, some sputtering, and a grumpy battery, but she ran. We drove around the block and the family was sold.
She came to us green. And stinky. And rusty. But she had good bones.
The Restoration: Mechanical First, Then Beautiful
I started with the mechanical work, finding a local VW specialist — one of very few in existence, it turns out. Classic car mechanics are a rare breed, and in Southern California we're lucky to have any at all. Over the first year we tackled brakes, clutch, seals and gaskets, rust repair (she came from Michigan, which told its own story), and new panels welded into the wheel wells where the metal had simply given up. A new battery. The following year, a new starter after one too many jump attempts finally revealed the real culprit. All told, the first round of mechanical work ran about $2,000.
While the mechanics were underway, I was already scheming on what she'd look like.
Those seats. I want you to really look at those seats. Ripped, sun-bleached, decades of foam crumbling out of them. Finding them in this condition was actually lucky — the frames were intact, which matters enormously with a VW bus because original seat frames are nearly impossible to source. I had the structure. I just needed everything on top of it. This VW Bus restoration was underway.
I tried ordering cushion covers from JBugs.com — the VW enthusiast's bible for parts and accessories — but nothing fit right. These seats needed professional attention.
I found a local upholstery shop run by a family who had never done a classic car before. It took several visits and a lot of enthusiasm to get the owner on board, but he fell in love with the project. The timing overlapped with a loss in his family, and I gave him all the time he needed. When I got the seats back, they were picture perfect. White leather throughout. Every surface clean and cohesive.
For the floor I used FLOR carpet tiles in charcoal gray — the square modular ones you install yourself with a carpet cutter. I had the whole floor done in under an hour. Perfect for a beach vehicle: durable, cleanable, and completely replaceable if a tile gets destroyed by a wet dog or a sandy surfboard. Total upholstery and interior work ran about $2,750. Paint and bodywork was another $4,400.
The Reveal
White paint. White leather. Dark gray floor. The wooden storage box, custom-built by the previous owner, was painted white to match. The bonus seat was reupholstered to match everything else. Curtains on magnetic rods so they'd stay closed against the sidewalls when I wanted privacy.
She was completely transformed. VW Bus restoration level unlocked!
Life With the Bus
We used that bus constantly. Surfboards before school. The whole family loaded up with a wagon, boogie boards, and a full day's worth of food and towels. Vi's preschool friends thought it was the funniest, most wonderful thing they'd ever seen. Little kids on the street would point and stare from their car seats. Grown men of a certain age would stop me every single time I took it out — asking what year it was, telling me good job, giving me the peace sign.
I once described it as being exactly the right amount of famous. Enough that people noticed. Not so much that it was overwhelming.
On the flat streets of Santa Monica, getting back into a stick shift felt completely natural. A joy, even.
The dogs claimed it immediately. There's something about an open side door at the beach and a dog who knows exactly where they belong.
The Pandemic Office
When COVID hit and we were all stuck at home, the bus became my mobile office. I'd load up a portable folding table, my laptop, my Wi-Fi hotspot, my cooler, and the dogs, drive down to the beach, and spend the day working while looking at the Pacific Ocean. I'd take breaks by walking on the sand. The dogs kept anyone unsavory at a comfortable distance. There was always a breeze.
It was genuinely one of the nicest work environments I have ever had.
On the days I wasn't on deadline, I brought my sketchbook instead.
The only downside: a pristine 1971 VW bus is not exactly inconspicuous. I had a constant stream of visitors - people who wanted to pose in front of it, car enthusiasts who wanted the whole restoration story, strangers who just stood there smiling. At some point I installed curtains with little magnets on the bottoms so they'd stay closed when I wanted to disappear into my work. Problem solved.
Before School Surf Runs
There were mornings when my sons wanted to get in the water before school. It was so easy. Load the boards, pile in, drive down while it was still dark, park facing the water. He'd change in the bus, I’d get to have my coffee wrapped in a blankie, able to reheat in the bus if necessary. He’d paddle out while I watched. We’d make it to school on time, a little adventure already under our belts for the day.
That's the thing nobody tells you about having a beach vehicle: it's not really about the vehicle. It's about what it inspires. The spontaneous mornings. The "sure, let's go" when you would have talked yourself out of it otherwise.
The Camping Trips That Never Happened
I should tell you that I scheduled three separate camping trips with that bus. Three.
My husband wasn't interested. My kids weren't interested. Every single time, when it came down to actually going, no one wanted to sleep anywhere that wasn't a real bed - including in the bus, once they realized "camping" was the actual plan.
I'm genuinely glad I never spent thousands outfitting it with a kitchenette and a refrigerator, because we never would have used any of it. The bus was perfect, exactly as it was. A beach hauler, a mobile hangout, a changing room, a dog transport, a surfboard carrier. A giant, adorable, peace-sign-earning cooler on wheels.
That was enough...really, more than enough.
Teaching Venice to Drive It
We attempted to teach my oldest to drive a manual transmission in the bus. We chose the quietest streets in Santa Monica. So mindful. So aware.
And naturally, out of nowhere, a full-size FedEx semi appeared behind us - in a residential neighborhood, for absolutely no discernible reason - as Venice stalled out in first gear for the fourth time in a row.
We could not. stop. laughing. He did not immediately fall in love with manual transmissions.
Selling Her
Eventually the kids got older, the boys went to college, and the bus sat on the street gathering dust between beach days that came less and less frequently. In a city, a car you're not driving becomes a burden fast — especially when street cleaning days mean it still needs to be moved every week.
I listed her back on ClassicCars.com — the same place I'd found her. I staged detailed photos and included lifestyle shots that showed how we'd actually used her: dogs, beach, kids, the whole life. I had her appraised before listing (she came in at $24,450, well above what I'd originally paid), listed her at $27,500, and held out for the right offer. I wasn't in a position where I needed to sell quickly, and that patience made all the difference.
She sold for $27,500. After everything I'd put into her over the years, I came out about $2,800 behind — which, spread across five years of some of the best beach ? dog / office days we have had, feels like a good deal. It was like I had a crappy rate savings account whose return was hippy bus joy. Best. Deal. Ever.
I used the money for a family trip, and she went to a good home. The new owner got a freshly rebuilt transmission and a car I felt genuinely proud to hand over.
One thing I'd tell anyone selling a classic car: do the DMV title transfer at the exact moment of sale. I didn't, and spent months being billed for licensing and registration on a car I no longer owned. Learn from me.
What I'd Do Differently
Hire the appraiser at purchase, not just at sale. Find a car that needs cosmetic work rather than mechanical work — the transmission rebuild alone was $4,000 that I probably could have avoided. And seriously consider the electric conversion: a restored classic with an EV drivetrain is a completely different investment category. I'm confident I could have sold that bus for far more with the right conversion. Maybe next time.
I'd also look into marketing it to studios, production companies, and wedding vendors. It was a genuinely special-looking car and I probably left real money on the table by not thinking of it as a revenue stream.
What I Wouldn't Change
All of it.
Every wave from a stranger. Every peace sign. Every preschooler who lost their mind with excitement when we pulled up at school. Every early morning surf run with boards hanging out the back. Every pandemic beach workday with the doors open and the dogs stretched out and the ocean right there.
It wasn't free. But it was worth every single penny.
The Numbers
Here's exactly what we spent and what we got back, so you can go in with eyes open if you're thinking about doing something similar.
Purchase price (GR Auto Gallery via ClassicCars.com):
$14,198 Shipping (American Auto Transport):
$1,300 Mechanical — clutch:
$400 Mechanical — seals and gaskets:
$600 Mechanical — brakes, rust restoration, battery:
$800 Starter replacement:
$438 Tune-up and door handle install:
$375 Horn, clutch, door, fuel gauge repairs:
$735 License and registration:
$285 JBugs interior accessories:
$183 JBugs interior upholstery materials:
$859 Centimeter Interiors upholstery service: $
1,700 Paint and restoration (MAC Auto Collision):
$4,400 Transmission rebuild (Westside Transmission):
Total invested: $30,274
Appraised value (May 2021): $24,450
Sale price: $27,500 Net: -$2,774
Spread across five years of beach days, surf mornings, pandemic office sessions, and preschool pickups that made little kids gasp with delight — that's $554 a year. I've spent more on worse things.
Resources
ClassicCars.com — where I found her and where I sold her. Their transport coordination made cross-country shipping surprisingly straightforward, and their listing platform is the right place to be if you're serious about buying or selling a classic.
JBugs.com — the go-to catalog for all things VW. Parts, accessories, upholstery materials. If it exists for a vintage Volkswagen, JBugs probably has it.
FLOR carpet tiles — modular, cut-to-fit carpet squares that are perfect for a vehicle floor. I used a solid charcoal and installed the whole bus in under an hour. Easy to replace individual tiles if one gets wrecked.
Pendleton Glacier National Park Blanket
Have you restored a vintage car, or are you dreaming about it? Drop a comment below — I'd love to hear about it. And if you're specifically considering a VW bus, feel free to reach out. I have a lot of thoughts and I'm happy to share them.
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