Car woes

My car is in the Volkswagen hospital tonight. It made weird and alarming noises when Jordan drove us to the country last weekend, and as long as it was at the dealership I asked them to check the persistent rattle in the driver's side door. That turned out to be more expensive than the alarming noises, which were loose fender liners (whatever those are). The latch on the door needs to be replaced, the oil needs changing, and they will wash and vacuum (much needed).
Meanwhile I am driving a sedate Passat. Don't get me wrong--I'm grateful for a loaner. But it's just a car. Jacob was excited, thought I'd gotten a new car, liked the new car smell (he complains my car has a funny odor). But I'm not a particularly happy camper in that car. For one thing, there's that terrible sense of responsibility that you're driving a loaner and must return it in the same pristine condition in which you received it. But beyond that--it's just a car. Sedate is a good word for it.
I bought my Beetle convertible in 2004 because I declared I would not be a stodgy grandmother, and I wanted a car with personality. I am the subject of laughter hidden by hands at the dealership--a nine-year-old car with 24,000 miles on it. But I love my car, top down, top up. People stop me on the street to say they like my car. A woman stopped me the other day at Central Market to ask if I would buy one again, and my answer was an enthusiastic yes. We had a big dinner tonight for which neighbor Jay joined us, and he said "The car is you!" I justified the expense of these repairs because I'm going to drive that car forever--and he said, "Until we take the keys away from you!"
Ellen Degeneres has been on Facebook with a post that says something to the effect of "Can't we stop judging people by whether or not they're gay and just judge them on the car they drive." I think that's so true--just like you know people by the food they eat, you know them by the car they drive. Yeah, I have had my share of Chevrolets but I've also had a VW bus, a Karman Ghia, a black-on-black VW convertible with walnut paneling (a woman stopped me one day and said, "My husband would kill for that car."). I've had a Mercedes, a Sterling, and my first car was a VW bug the color of tomato soup with striping(popular in the sixties)--my theory is anything with personality.
One other problem with the Passat--I don't think it will fit in my 1922 garage. The Bug barely makes it!