While walking around downtown Calgary with dcnewsman last night, I spied a Volkswagen Beetle and said “Black Punchbuggy, no punch back!” and punched him in the arm.
He looked at me as though I was completely insane. Since he was partially right, I backed away and explained that it was something we do here, and that I was confused by his strange Amercian ways. Later I saw a commercial and pointed it out to him, of a woman doing exactly that to a cabbie.
Is punching at the site of a VW Beetle not a universal thing? I have lived in western Canada for most of my life, but the year that I spent in Ontario, it was observed.
US Dopers, Brit and Aussies, please join in as well.
My daughter just picked it up down here, but I don’t have a clue where she got it from. Apparently, if you say the color of the VW means you can’t get punched when you see another of that same color.
Got it here in NE Fla. … hadn’t heard the “new Beetle” variation.
Back when I was just a PlanBoy we played a game where different VWs had different points - regular bug = 1, red bug or regular microbus = 5, red microbus or Kharman Ghia = 10, red Kharman = 25, or something. Back then, those were the only types of VW on US roads. Had to call out something, I don’t think it was Beetle - Beaver comes to mind, but … would we … after all we were young, and not exposed to alternative word meanings.
I played punch buggy as a kid growing up in Southern Ontario. D18 Jr. and I now have an ongoing game. We do one punch for a new Beetle, and a “vintage bonus punch” for an original Beetle. We also play “pinch cruiser” when we see a PT Cruiser.
And Francesca - our excuse for gratuitous violence is ice hockey. Go Leafs Go!
Yup, common in upstate New York and apparently New Jersey (where my best friend was from). Only, I don’t know why, we wouldn’t say “Blue punchbuggy,” it’d be “Punchbuggy blue, no punch-backs.” Color comes second. Go figger.
Also “cruiser bruiser” when you see a cop car. Not as widespread - only heard of it from the New Jerseyan.
I was not introduced into the punch-bug cult until well into adulthood in Northern Ontario, when The Human Probe would occasionally give me a shot and chant the mystical words.
I didn’t have a clue why he was doing this to me. I asked, but he just kept on grinning, and after a while would do it again.
This went on for weeks.
Now The Human Probe had many fine pastimes. As a child he and his four brother cut down trees by having one of them chop and the remaining four climb to the top and ride it down. In the summers they played soccer with large live field rats. We won’t go into how he came to be named The Human Probe, but suffice it to say, it was well earned and involved much pain. Thus I came to the conclusion that the random punches were simply a result of The Human Probe’s inability to go without violent physical activity for more than half an hour.
So one day I worked up my nerve, tightened my seat belt, hammered him in the arm, and recited the chant. He did a good job at keeping the jeep out of the trees, and asked me what the hell I was doing.
So I did it again.
So he slugged me back.
And back and forth it went for a couple of hours, weaving down a dusty logging road. He kept saying “There aren’t any Volkswagons!” and kept returning my punches. I kept saying “What have Volkswagons got to do with anything?” and kept punching him.
We arrived at the river black and blue. Sometimes I’m a slow learner.
Yeah, my family did this. We would always have to say “[color] punch-buggy, no punch backs!” My sister insists that new beatles count, while I am an adament no on that subject.
(My sister, BTW, is 25 years old and still plays this game. Drives her husband crazy…)
