Go Westy - 1965 Volkswagen Westfalia Kombi

Has a socially significant cult car ever had such a dull name? Volkswagen dubbed it the Type 2, but history’s added far more colour to the model we Aussies affectionately call the Kombi.

Since its 1950 launch, the air-cooled rear-engine Transporter has been nicknamed the Splitty, Hippie Bus, Ganja Bus, Campervan and Shaggin’ Wagon, although the latter’s seemingly applied to any vehicle that fits a mattress.

These Kombi Fun Buses are as woven into Australian beach culture as surfboards and suntans. No other car so perfectly represents a lifestyle on wheels, and clichés runneth over. Peace, love, freedom … with a decent dose of Good Time thrown in.

Tracey Little’s 1965 split-window T1 Kombi is a live-in party van with a hotted up flat-four in its rump. It’s a genuine Westfalia SO 42 ‘Campmobile’ first registered in 1966 to an American chap travelling through Europe. The Kombi followed him to Australia when he scored a job on the Snowy Mountains Hydro Scheme, was right-hand drive converted and has been resident here ever since.

Kombi is much more than a home away from home.

“Everybody’s got a Vee Dub story, and Kombi ones are absolute crack-ups,” said Tracey as we sit on colourful scatter cushions in the Westy’s (another nickname) cosy camping-ready cabin.

“Stories are always great when it involves camping, and on a hot day, parked in the Queensland sun, I swear you can smell 1960s man odour in here. All the original cabinetry’s still there, but with new laminate faces.”

There’s fascination everywhere you look. A bench seat that converts to a bed; mini wardrobe; curtains; bookshelves, roof speakers; faux plants, pop-top tent; picnic table; safari (top hinged) windows front and rear; front quarter lights; wooden roof rack; dashboard basket and bus-like near-horizontal steering wheel sitting directly above the front axle.

It’s in glorious condition dressed in Mango green and Lotus white paint – a factory VW colour, but not for this model year. Tracey’s been custodian for nine years, buying it fresh from a two-year full rotisserie restoration overseen by NSW’s Jeff Chaseling.

The work was substantial. “My job was stripping it then putting all the nuts and bolts and interior back together,” Jeff explained.

“And of course paying the bills. Someone else painted it, did the rust work, upholstery and engine. If I had my time over I’d have just done a little resto and kept it original as possible. It hadn’t been in terrible condition, and cost me a lot of money.”

These early VWs are highly prone to rot. Years ago Nick Parker-Davies, owner of Sunshine Coast specialist The Kombi Shop, told me they’ll only do bare-metal restorations to eliminate nasty surprises. The bill will be six figures, but values of these split-screen buses are mega these days.

The Westfalia Kombis hold additional appeal. The German company made its first Camping Box in 1951, converting an early split-screen Kombi in to a mobile home. As official builder of VW camping conversions, by 1960 it introduced a folding roof, meaning easier-living stand-up space inside.

Westfalia used codes for its special models, and looking back over its 1960s’ brochures is a wonderful way to waste a few hours. Tracey’s is the SO 42 camper package, optioned with a pop-up top, awning tent and roof rack.

The driving position takes getting used to.

Features included front and rear bench seats, dinette table, icebox, water tank, the wonderfully named “What-Not cabinet”, clothes/linen closet and mattress. The SO 42 guide shows the Westy in sleeping mode, introducing venetian blinds to block out light (Tracey now uses curtains instead), the rear bench seat converted to a bed, and a children’s hammock above the driver’s seat. Cosy.

Perhaps we were a hardier lot back in the 1960s, but Tracey said it’s not the comfiest thing to sleep in. “We did a backyard camp-out during COVID, and me and the hubby lasted five hours,” she explained.

“I said: ‘If we sleep in here any longer I’m not going to be able to walk in the morning.’ A mattress topper would have helped, but it’s hard for two people to sleep there with the cabinetry down the sides.”

Speaking of which, the original brochure speaks of heavy-grade plywood for the cabin’s removable major components, PVC flooring and birch plywood with clear varnish finish for the insulated ceiling and walls. The pop top, meanwhile, is secured by four elasticised canvas straps. These easily unhook and you push two handles to raise the roof.

Yeah, we smile at it every time we look at it too.

It’s lovely to stand up in and enjoy views through tent mesh, then simply walk between the front seats, open up the split windscreen glass and (in ideal circumstances) watch the sun go down over a vast ocean, cocktail in hand, before bed.

As a former member of the air-cooled owners’ club, I’ve been to plenty of VW events and pored over Westfalias good and bad. And the bad ones can be really bad. Warped and damaged cabinets, mould, stinky stained carpet, ripped seats and water tanks, and fridges best handled in hazmat suits.

Repairing and restoring to this car’s level is arduous and expensive, but results are standout. The mesh platinum seat fabric – typically found on deluxe Kombi models – looks especially excellent.

The underside and oily bits work has been equally thorough. The original (and gutless) 1500cc single-port four-cylinder donk made way for a 1916cc unit, based on a 1600cc engine case and with bigger heads.

It was built by Wollongong’s Rod Penrose Racing – the go-to place for air-cooled enhancement – featuring a counterweighted 69mm crank, Mahle 94mm pistons and rings, and Engle W100 Series camshaft. The 40mm IDF Weber carburettors help to amplify the distinctive air-cooled rumble.

Power and torque numbers aren’t known, but Tracey says it’ll rarely see 100km/h. But at the helm there’s a bit more of a kick than a normal 60-year-old Kombi. “She’s got a lot of guts and gets up and boogies well,” Tracey said. “I actually love that she can be a real bitch to drive. When it’s windy and trucks go past at 100km/h, that can be quite exciting.”

Running gear’s been transplanted from a 1968/69 T2 bay window (or lowlight) Kombi. “The front’s a later beam, so that changes it to ball joints,” said restorer Jeff.

“It’s got a different gearbox fitted (a four-speed Beetle’s) and given trailing arm independent rear suspension from a later Kombi.”

Its 14-inch steel wheels with hubcaps have also come from a bay window Kombi, which necessitated the not insignificant job of changing the stud pattern.

The stance is excellent, this Westy sitting markedly lower than standard. Its rear spring plates have been readjusted, while adjusters in the front beam help drop the nose down a few inches.

“It also looks a lot lower because the tyres used on old Kombis are like proper truck tyres,” said Jeff. “The later Kombi’s smaller tyres (185/75R14) help give an overall drop of around four inches.”

So this splitty’s something of a bitzer, and not a purist’s delight. But the upgrades all seem smart and sensible – there’s a front disc-brake conversion for example – helping drivability, reliability and safety. It takes nothing away from the surprise and delight of this striking head-turner.

The bread-loaf-like purity of design is best seen from the passenger-side flank, the rear whitewall tyre sinking into the wheel arch below giant air vents in the metalwork. Parked up on Tracey’s Bribie Island home’s driveway, you get a childlike excitement opening giant side barn doors to clamber in the welcoming, soft furnished living space.

There’s charm overload, and it’s easy to see why Kombis have become history’s go-to travelling van. Within five minutes I was ready to pack in my job, grow my hair long and head towards some remote, deserted surf break. Some Creedence, Grateful Dead or even a smattering of Beach Boys would likely dominate the playlist.

“There’s lots of road and wind noise, the steering’s loose at speed and then heavy in town, but she’s just so goddamn cute and I love the smile it puts on people’s faces,” Tracey explained. “It’s used for weddings and photo opportunities, then hubby and I do car shows and charity events, because we just love driving her.”

Now 60 years old, this Kombi feels absolutely from another time. New car equivalents – Volkswagen’s electric I.D. Buzz modernised Kombi included – are painfully dull in comparison, with only touchscreen menus for entertainment.

Whereas the Westfalia air-cooled party bus is an Aladdin’s cave of exploration, from its pop-out windows to pop-up roof; seats turning in to beds to secrets hidden in that What-Not cabinet.

With the modern world going from one crisis to another, couldn’t we all use a bit more classic Kombi in our lives?