Sad as it may be, it's true: the New Beetle is not garnering anywhere near as much attention as it used to. West Hollywood and Santa Monica, Calif., where the Beetle had been living for the past few months, are now riddled with the cute little hatchbacks. But staffers who live near the San Diego area still got lots of attention during their tryst in the Beetle, especially from children in minivans who would smear their hands, noses and cheeks up against the glass as the Beetle passed.

Early in the month, one of our production managers took the car into Bob Baker Volkswagen in Carlsbad, Calif., for its 5,000-mile checkup. Although the service went without a hitch, we were annoyed to learn later that another staff member had already taken the car in to Volkswagen of Santa Monica for its 5,000-mile service and the Carlsbad dealer failed to mention that the service had already been completed. Isn't that why they ask for VIN numbers and all that other information when you drop the car off? At least it only cost us in time; both services were free thanks to VW's two-year service plan.

A host of complaints have resurfaced regarding the hatchback's cupholders. Our editor-in-chief managed to squeeze a large McDonald's drink into the left cupholder without the straw inserted, but a Snapple bottle won't fit into any of the cupholders provided. Our office assistant, who was so enamored with the Beetle a few months back that she went out and bought one, now says the cupholders are a constant source of aggravation. They hold a soda can snugly, but the drinks tend to spill when you try to wrestle them out of the holder. Taller cups and bottles won't fit under the radio console, and if you're drinking out of anything wider than a soda can, forget it.

One of our drivers took the Beetle to pick up dry cleaning this month, but couldn't safely hang her six articles of clothing on the hooks provided because, once the seat was moved into place, it knocked the clothes off the hook. The clothing couldn't be hung on the grab handles because then they blocked the seat belts. So, the only available option was to lay the clothes flat across the back seat to avoid wrinkling them.

It's been an interesting month for our cute little long-termer. First, a staffer drove the Beetle from LAX to Rosemond, Calif., for Edmund's Track Day at Willow Springs Raceway. The Beetle was parked facing down a steep incline in the parking garage at LAX, about three feet away from a shiny new car, which was facing up--not the best situation for someone who had never put a manual VW into reverse. Not knowing that to get the car into reverse the driver must first push down on the shifter, our staffer had to swallow her pride and ask the valet guys for assistance.

Next, we drove the New Beetle around the Willow Springs racetrack during a mid-month sportscar comparison (just for fun), and found out that it actually was fun, though one driver amended that accolade to "funny." Our editor-in-chief was surprised by how composed the Beetle was on the track. Weight was obviously biased to the front of the vehicle, but it didn't understeer excessively and could even be drifted with the right amount of finesse.

When Town Hall guru Nancie Meng arrived at the track, she was immediately drawn to the neon yellow Beetle, partly for a chance to recover from her obligatory ride around the track in an Acura NSX driven by our editor-in-chief, and partly because she had learned to drive a stick shift on her father's 1963 robin's egg blue "old" Beetle. For her, climbing into the car was like being hugged by an old friend who, despite a recent body sculpt and an obvious "in" with the best make-over artist in Beverly Hills, still maintained all her best qualities.

Because Nancie felt so at home in the Bug, she opted to ride back to L.A. in it with Senior Media Specialist John Davis. Then came the snafu. With half a tank of gas (more than enough to get back to L.A.), they decided to pull off at a Palmdale exit and top it off for the next day's driver. They located the gas cap, paid the attendant, and began to fill up. Nancie, serendipitously exhibiting a new preoccupation with fuel tank capacities, peered closer to the cap, looking for a notation on its size. Instead, she noticed in not-too-large letters, the words "Diesel Fuel Only." She yanked the nozzle out and stared at the pump. Only four gallons of unleaded poison had gone into our New Beetle's belly. She and John double-checked everything: no notation in the manual or on the door wells, hood, trunk or sides of the car advertised that this was a diesel. The only thing to do was shift the car into neutral and roll her downhill into a Denny's parking lot.

Locals who frequented the AM/PM and Denny's at 8 p.m. in Palmdale flocked to the Beetle like flies and, in exchange for information about the vehicle, offered advice about the duo's predicament. Siphoning all the gas out seemed like the right idea, so they appropriated a cab driven by Xena the warrior taxi driver and purchased siphoning gear at a nearby Pep Boys. Nancie had acquired the skill of siphoning during the gas embargo of the '70s, and we're not quite sure where John learned how to do it, but regardless of their talents, they were unsuccessful. Sleep tight, Beetle owners. No one will ever be able to steal gas out of your car.

The next step was to call VW's 24-hour roadside assistance number. The first attendant they spoke with offered to tow them to a VW dealership, but also said: "I'm sure nothing will happen if you drive it back to L.A." Luckily, that didn't sound like good advice to our staffers. They redialed, contacted a different VW assistance person, and arranged to have the car towed to a VW dealership seven miles away. The dealership would drain the unleaded gas, refill the tank with the right stuff, and have it ready the next day. By this time it was nearing midnight, so they decided to call Xena for a ride back to L.A. They settled into the cab for the $130 trip, and waxed philosophic about their experience. The conclusions?