Call it a Breadloaf, a Loaf, a Bay Window, a Bay, a Transporter, a Samba, a Type 2, a Kombi, a Bus … or, in this case, a basic post-Chicken Tax VW Van. And, if you squint real hard, you can also call this 1969 example, found here on Facebook Marketplace in St. Petersburg, Florida, a survivor. Barely.

The good news? The seller represents that it runs. “Strong!” It shifts “as it should.” And, as sorta shown, there be parts. You’re gonna need ’em. The bad news? You’ll find it in the photos.

This Loaf’s story is typical. “We were planning to redo it into a camper.” The automotive resto highway is, of course, paved with good intentions. And one-of-these-days VW camper conversions. As the ad notes, “other things have come up.” Funny how that tends to happen.

First, the body. The two holes beneath the fuel filler show why you should never clean a grenade launcher in the vicinity of a motor vehicle. And, Neil Young notwithstanding, rust does sleep. It’s napping just starboard of the twin puncture wounds, consuming the lower quadrant of the slider. A replacement is provided, but this is gonna be more than a simple swap job. But, to be fair, it could be worse.

The apparent exit wounds can be found on the driver’s side. Along with some primitive evidence of the embryonic van conversion attempt. The moon hubs look correct. Further, there’s a lot of “there” there. Most of the stuff that tends to fall off these things has either been replaced or figured out how to defy gravity. You likely won’t wind up on a first name basis with the salvage yard guys.

Although the seller rationed photos of the van’s innards, this shot suggests it might not be the crime scene you’d otherwise expect.  Gauges? Check. Door/window handles and panels? Check. Seats? Sorta. In technical lingo, it’s got stuff. At least up front.

The economics? Original MSRP for this baby hovered around $2,400. That’s $16,666 in current currency. All those beastly sixes bought you a 1.6 L, 47 bhp rear-engine heavy breather that was guaranteed to wheeze to a halt well before reaching the 8,100 foot, snow-covered summit of Switzerland’s Grand St. Bernard Pass. All because you and seven of your ski bum friends were too cheap to pay the tunnel toll. Someone ask the monks to unleash the hounds and the brandy casks, please.

Today, the Loaf’s estimated street price is $11,800 for something that’s mechanically functional (it supposedly sorta is – but no engine pix), needing only “minor reconditioning.” This one’s likely gonna require more than a trip to the detailer before it fetches that kind of green, however. At the high end, where the full restorations live, the price guides claim a value of $50,000. If you believe the numbers, you’ve got about $8,000 in low end money to blow on this one before you’re underwater. Or not.
About those parts … the seller’s listed inventory includes a passenger side front door, a passenger side slider, a right rear quarter panel, new windshield, and still-in-the- box taillights. Which, the seller notes, you’ll need to install if you’re planning on scaling the approach to Tampa’s towering Skyway Bridge under the van’s own power. Otherwise, it’s a trailer queen.

Then there’s the “typical rust for the year.” The year was 1969. Remember Woodstock? (HINT #1: Not if you were actually there.) Remember the rain? This one appears to have been caught in the storm. And it seemingly forgot to come back inside. Presuming the integrity’s there and you took your doctorate in welding, the body work is most probably manageable. A minor in upholstery would also be a plus.

Fortunately, parts are available at reasonably reasonable prices. A replacement split front seat, for instance, can be had for under $250. And a full set of vinyl interior panels is yours for less than $700. Some assembly, and lots and lots of free time, required.

The price appears to be in the ballpark. The bones might be poking through the soft tissue, but they’re there. And the inventory of salvageable Type 2’s isn’t growing. Like real estate, they ain’t makin’ ’em anymore. Is this one a contender for a full or partial resto? (HINT #2: If you’re still reading, ask yourself why.)