Death By Volkswagen
How a small car club showcases the Northwest community, family and a passion for speed
Story by HARRISON AMELANG | Photos by OCTOBER YATES & LINCOLN HUMPHRY
Grant’s Burgers opened in Ferndale, Washington in 1964. The small town, family-owned burger joint offered each burger with fries and a witty one-liner from the owner Russ. Over half a century later, Grant’s Burgers still hasn’t lost the homestyle humor or the smell of burger grease.
Grant’s sits right off Main Street in rural Ferndale. It looks out over one of the busier intersections in the area and is easily the most colorful. Bright yellows, contrasting reds and splashes of blues act as their own neon signs, spotlights for attention under the greying sky. It’s easy to see why Grant’s has been a neighborhood hangout hotspot since its opening.
Today, Grant’s is hosting a different guest. As the day slows and the time approaches, preparations for the new customer begin. Employees with Grant’s hats and black shirts shuffle outdoor chairs around, set a table outside and quickly wipe up left behind scraps from the day’s previous eaters.
The guests will be here soon.
The pink sky is cut short by brilliant fluorescent blue headlights slicing through the darkening air as a car pulls into the empty parking lot. It’s a black Audi, the signature four hoops on the front of the car glistening under Grant’s lights. The low burble of exhaust interrupts the scraping of chairs on the ground as employees glance up at the car parking. They’re here.
Two minutes later, a throaty growl announces the arrival of another. A navy blue Volkswagen Golf R pulls off the road and backs into the spot next to the Audi. As the car ticks itself cool in the evening air, it’s joined by two more Volkswagen Golf’s. These are older cars and could be heard long before they were seen. With a loud BRAAP from the tuned exhausts they announce their arrival and parade around the lot for a lap or two before also settling down in parking spots.
As Grant’s employees start preparing food, a low BMW pulls into the lot, followed by another Volkswagen and another Audi. Within 15 minutes, the lot is full of a variety of unique machines, engines still muttering, headlights piercing and doors thudding shut.
The members of Death By Volkswagen have never met at Grant’s, but it already feels like home. The sound of sizzling hamburger meat mingles with the chatter of toddlers climbing out of a Volkswagen Jetta. The owner, Maleah Smith, tries to wrestle the little ones out of the busy parking lot and towards the food. Her boyfriend, Jordan Brandt, lends a hand but the youngest members have set their sights on milkshakes and french fries. Meanwhile, the driver of the black Audi, Gary Lambert, is chatting with the very tall driver of the blue Golf R, Cody Vanderwerff. Through breaths of steam in the chilly night air hugs and hellos are given and received.
Death By Volkswagen is not so much a car club as it is a family reunion. Members know each other by name and by the car they drive. While some reunions result in arguments over politics, this family discusses intake manifolds and what tires to buy. That’s how this all started in 2011; three guys in a garage, working on Volkswagens, sustained by a love of VW’s, pizza and beer.
As Grant’s serves greasy burgers, corn dogs and shakes, members make their way into the warm indoors. Their cars sit parked outside, cold to the touch in the October evening. The diverse cast of Death By VW is showcased in the cars they drive. A lowered Audi, an old 1980’s Golf that’s been rebuilt twice, a tuned Golf R an old truck with a dying motor and a hole in the exhaust, a brand new VW Jetta leaves Grant’s parking lot bursting at the seams.
While the title hints that only Volkswagens are allowed in the club, anyone can join. One of the administrators of the club drove a Cadillac to Grant’s. All drivers are welcomed too, as proven by the members sharing dinner at Grant’s tonight. Fathers, friends, mothers, mechanics, teenagersbound together through a shared passion.
The unique name “Death By VW” came about after one of the founding members, Kyler Lee, nearly died in a catastrophic accident. While driving one of his VW’s, Lee lost control of the car and plummeted down the side of an embankment. Punctured lungs and a rib through the heart nearly claimed his life. After crawling his way back up toward the road, he was eventually saved by a passing driver, his car a twisted wreck at the bottom of the hill. What a way to go, members chuckle. Death by a Volkswagen.
The name goes deeper than that, though. It stands as a symbol of camaraderie and family. Dubs, slang for members, know each other by the cars they drive, waving “hello” on highways and posting photos on the club’s Facebook page with captions like “Found you!” or “Spotted!”. If someone can’t make it to an event, members do whatever they can to get it going again.
Car enthusiasts like those in Death By VW see their cars as a form of self-expression. There’s a television in the corner, but no one pays attention to it. Chatter drowns out the evening news, mostly about what a car needs next. These auto enthusiasts know their vehicles inside and out. Ask any member and they can tell you exactly what work has been done on their car and what needs to be done next. How much money spent in the process isn’t as much of a problem as it is an inconvenience. Most owners expect the price to come with the passion.
As the children get antsy and the meals are finished, the family of Death By VW bundle up and make their way outside, graciously thanking Grant’s employees as they begin to close for the night. Tonight boasts a group of about 20 members, a fairly good size but nothing extraordinary. The first Death By VW car meet had a similar turnout six years ago. In the years since its conception, Death by Volkswagen has grown tremendously. Now, after spreading south to Seattle and north into Canada, the tally sits at around 700 members.
Sweatshirt hoodies pop up, winter jackets appear and the shivers return. Death by hypothermia seems more appropriate tonight.
Crashing, cuts and scars are the tattoos of this passionate family. Nick Rinehart laughs about his friend who rolled his VW but called a tow truck and still managed to make it to a blink-182 concert. And the time piston one lost compression in this Cabriolet and nearly destroyed the engine but he still made it home. And when the suspension had to be rebuilt. And when the differential exploded.
Grant’s lights flicker off as the neighborhood favorite closes for the night. The garbage has been taking out, the counters wiped and floor swept. Finally, time to go home.
But the parking lot stays full. The youngest Death By VW members run in circles, arms raised, singing about flying like eagles. The cold doesn’t seem to bother them and nearby parents pray the little ones will be just tired enough for bed. It’s getting late, anyway.
Two blue haloes silently erupt at the front of the lowered BMW and shine on the small VW truck parked in front of it. A mechanical hum undertones the voices of nearby dubs as the sleek grey car slithers around the truck and out of the parking lot.
Members talk about what Death By VW used to be. In the past, the club hosted charity drives and donated money to other causes, but those days are over. Busy lives and other commitments make Death By VW a family of similarly passionate people. The first Sunday of each month marks their breakfast drive, driving around Lake Whatcom or other Northwest gems before meeting up at a diner to start the day. It’s a similar story on every 13 of the month, like tonight at Grant’s. Anyone with a passion for cars is welcome to join the club for good food and great company.
The VW truck with a bad exhaust and smelly motor bursts to life like a box of fireworks, startling the nearby kids and turning the heads of members. With a cough and a snort, the small beast lunges forward and makes its way to the nearby street. With a bellow, it pulls out of sight into the night.
Fog is rolls in, obscuring streetlights and bright red taillights. The sharp contrast of headlights flood the parking lot as each motor revs to life. Heaters are cranked to full and frozen noses are rubbed as the cars shake off their frost.
Within minutes, Grant’s is once again empty. In a month, Death By VW will be looking for another place to settle down and catch up with each other. Grant’s may be a recurring stop, Jordan thinks. The kids loved the food.
