Love the one
you’re with.

How many 30-, 40-, or even 50-year-old cars do you still see out on the road? And how many of those are Volkswagens?

Quite a few.

There’s something worth appreciating about that. These vehicles have their quirks and compromises, certainly. Engines in the back. Boxer configurations. Air-cooled engines, followed by water-cooled engines with unmistakable air-cooled ancestry. They’ve never followed quite the same path as everything else on the road.

Yet here they are, decades later, still taking people places.

So why are we often in such a hurry to replace the engines that helped get them this far?

I’m writing this primarily for newer Vanagon owners and people who aren’t necessarily comfortable elbow-deep in an engine bay. My focus is the water-cooled boxer engine, usually called the Waterboxer, or WBX.

This is a perspective I think gets overlooked too often. It comes from owning, driving, modifying, and working on these vans, including both original-engine vans and conversions. If I’ve got a fact wrong, please get in touch. I’m happy to correct it.

The decision about your van is yours. I’d just like to give the humble Waterboxer a fair hearing.

Why are we so quick to replace it?

I hear the same reasons all the time:

• “It’s so slow. I can only climb mountain grades in third gear at 45 mph.”
• “It’s unreliable.”
• “It’s hard to find someone to work on it.”
• “It’s an old engine design.”
• “Everyone says I should put in a Subaru or a diesel.”

There’s some truth behind these complaints.

The WBX is modestly powered for the vehicle it has to move. After decades of service, many engines and their supporting systems are suffering from age, neglect, or both. Finding someone who understands them can take effort. And yes, it’s an old design.

But in my opinion, those things don’t automatically make an engine conversion the best answer.

Before you rip out that old, slow Waterboxer, it’s worth understanding what you’re changing—and what you may already have.

The engine is only part of the van

Volkswagen designed the Vanagon as a complete vehicle. Its engine, transmission, brakes, suspension, and drivetrain were chosen to work together within a particular set of demands.

Depending on the version and market, the original Waterboxer made roughly 100 horsepower, give or take. A common Subaru 2.5 conversion can bring that figure to around 160 horsepower. That’s a substantial change.

When you replace the heart of a vehicle with something considerably more powerful, the rest of the vehicle deserves attention too.

“No problem,” you might say. “There are aftermarket solutions for all of that.”

And you’d be right.

But what’s that? You’re on a budget? You thought you’d install another engine and drive off into the sunset?

This is where things can get expensive.

When I first wrote this article, I described a professionally installed conversion costing $10,000 to $20,000 or more as the price of admission. The exact bill will vary, but the point remains: paying for the engine conversion may only be the beginning.

If you’re going to use that extra power to travel faster, accelerate harder, or carry more weight, you need to consider the condition and capability of the brakes, transmission, CV joints, and everything else being asked to do more.

Not every conversion requires the same upgrades. Much depends on the engine, the condition of the van, and how you drive it. But those questions belong in the budget from the beginning.

A new engine doesn’t make the rest of the van new.

And spending $20,000 on a conversion doesn’t turn your Vanagon into a Porsche 911, even if the first trip up a mountain makes it feel that way.

There’s also the matter of replacement-part quality. Some modern replacement parts are excellent; others don’t live up to the original equipment. Replacing a tired component is necessary, but “new” doesn’t automatically mean it will give you another 30 years of service—particularly if you’re now asking it to work harder.

Your transmission and CV joints are part of the story

The transaxle—the combined transmission and differential—is one of the most important parts of this equation.

Its gears, bearings, lubrication, and ability to manage heat all matter. More torque, harder acceleration, and heavier loads can place greater demands on it. High-torque diesel conversions deserve particular attention here.

There are ways to address those demands: upgraded components, improved lubrication, oil cooling, and a rebuild suited to the intended use. But once again, we’re talking about money, planning, and the quality of the work.

I learned this firsthand.

My Subaru 2.5-powered, two-wheel-drive Vanagon went through two transaxle rebuilds in approximately 50,000 miles. The first failure came about 5,000 miles after the Subaru installation.

That experience doesn’t mean every converted van will have the same problems. It does explain why I take the rest of the drivetrain seriously when someone talks about “just” changing the engine.

With a Syncro, the financial stakes can be higher still. In the original article, I quoted roughly $5,000 for a stock replacement transmission, if you could find one, and $5,000 to $10,000 or more for a rebuild depending on the work and upgrades involved. Those were examples from that period, but they illustrate how quickly the overall project can grow.

All else being equal, asking less of the drivetrain gives it an easier life. Maintenance, component condition, gearing, and driving habits still matter enormously.

The same thinking applies to CV joints, which transfer power through the axles while allowing them to move with the suspension.

More torque and hard acceleration can increase their workload. Suspension lifts can also increase operating angles, affecting wear and the amount of articulation required. Porsche 930-style CV and axle conversions are one approach owners use to accommodate more demanding setups, but they bring their own costs and installation considerations.

Keeping power and suspension geometry close to the original arrangement can simplify all of this.

And the same whole-vehicle thinking applies if you add significant power to a Waterboxer. Keeping a VW engine doesn’t make the rest of the drivetrain immune to increased demands.

There is another way forward

With enough money, time, and attention, an engine conversion can produce a Vanagon that is both reliable and considerably more powerful than stock.

I’ve owned them. I understand the appeal.

But maintaining or properly rebuilding the engine you already have can also be a very satisfying way forward. Depending on your van’s condition, it may require less money and less sorting out than a conversion.

The Waterboxer has loyal supporters for good reason. Some love its character. Some enjoy working on it. Some appreciate keeping the engine that belongs to the vehicle’s original design.

For me, it’s all of those things.

And retaining a Waterboxer doesn’t mean preserving every worn-out component simply because it left the factory that way.

That distinction matters. When I talk about “keeping it stock” in this article, I’m mainly talking about keeping the WBX and respecting the character and balance of the van. Sensible improvements to wiring, fuel injection, cooling, and other aging systems can be part of that approach.

When I first wrote this, companies were already developing ways to address some of the Waterboxer’s longstanding frustrations. GoWesty had introduced replacement engine-management and wiring components with modern diagnostics. Mansispeed offered upgraded injectors and cylinder-head work.

I installed Mansispeed injectors in Miki, my 1991 Syncro, and loved the improvement in the way it ran.

There has also been a substantial community supporting these engines, with used parts through TheSamba and suppliers such as VanCafe, GoWesty, Bus Depot, and Van-Again providing parts and expertise.

The right choice may be a complete rebuild. It may be a targeted refresh. It may simply be catching up on maintenance that should have happened years ago.

The important thing is to understand the condition of your own van before deciding that a different engine is the answer.

The pleasure of getting to know your Waterboxer

I’ve found the WBX to be a joy to work on.

A Subaru is a more modern design, and depending on the engine and location, some replacement parts may be easier or cheaper to obtain. Those are real advantages.

But take a little time to understand the Waterboxer, and it becomes much less mysterious.

For nearly every problem I’ve encountered, I’ve found a wealth of information through TheSamba, GoWesty’s technical library, and YouTube. There’s an enormous amount of accumulated experience available to anyone willing to learn.

Many routine jobs—ignition coils, distributor caps and rotors, plugs, and belts—are approachable once you understand the layout. There’s no timing belt to replace, either.

That doesn’t make it maintenance-free. External belts still matter, and knowing what your warning lights mean—and stopping promptly when something is wrong—is part of owning one responsibly.

But the more time I spend getting my WBX dialed in, the more I enjoy it.

There’s satisfaction in understanding the machine that carries you around. In recognizing its sounds. In tracing a problem, fixing it, and feeling the difference the next time you turn the key.

And the burble of a nicely tuned Waterboxer through a good exhaust?

Sublime.

What a slow van can teach you

The Vanagon is a slow vehicle.

That shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone buying one. There are plenty of other vans available if modern highway performance is what you’re after: Sprinters, Transits, ProMasters, and more.

A stock Vanagon, loaded with people and camping gear, has a different pace.

I didn’t appreciate that immediately.

I used to love fast cars and motorcycles. I owned fast BMWs and Ducati motorcycles. Moving into a slow Vanagon was a shock, and like many owners, I started trying to make it fit my expectations.

With my heavily modified two-wheel-drive van, I became so focused on what I thought it should be that I failed to appreciate what it already was.

A well-maintained Vanagon can take you, your family, and your things across town or across a continent. Think roughly 55–65 mph on suitable roads, with hills and mountain passes often bringing that down to 35–50 mph, depending on the van, the load, and the grade.

Those are the kinds of speeds to make peace with.

To me, a Vanagon is happiest on a back road. And it just so happens that those back roads are often where the fun is.

Windows down on a warm, sunny day. Scenery passing slowly enough to notice. A turn onto a forest road. A secluded place to camp at the end of it.

That’s what it’s all about in a Vanagon.

Learn to love that. Learn to seek it out.

You may find that you can save yourself a great deal of money, time, and frustration by becoming comfortable with the pace the van was designed to travel.

Owning Vanagons has changed my life. I quite literally went from the fast lane to the slow lane.

Learning to slow down and enjoy simplicity are the greatest gifts these vans have given me. The Vanagon has become a metaphor for the simpler life I continually seek—with varying degrees of success.

Even the occasional breakdown can become part of the story. I don’t go looking for them, but I’ve learned that the best stories aren’t always made when everything goes perfectly.

When an engine conversion makes sense

There is absolutely a place for engine conversions.

The right conversion, done properly for the right owner, can create a beautiful beast of a Vanagon. The important thing is to be honest about your expectations, resources, and willingness to see the whole project through.

You enjoy the process of building and improving a van

I understand this completely. I’m an enthusiast too. I love tinkering, learning, and seeing where something can be improved.

For some owners, the project itself is a large part of the pleasure. They’re willing to invest in a good shop and address the rest of the van alongside the engine.

That commitment can be substantial. I had nearly $70,000 invested in my two-wheel-drive high-top Westfalia, although that certainly wasn’t all engine-related.

My view is that if you choose a substantially more powerful engine, you should be prepared to assess the whole vehicle and do the work it needs. The job is complete when the van works well as a whole.

Getting there can take time and money. For the right person, the result is worth it.

You have better access to conversion expertise than WBX rebuilding expertise

A Waterboxer rebuild is only as good as the person doing it and the parts and processes they use.

Finding someone with real experience and a good reputation is worth the effort. Ask questions. Talk to previous customers. Spend time in the owner community.

When I first wrote this article, I suggested that a quality rebuild might cost $5,000 to $7,000 or more, depending on what else needed replacing. The exact amount will vary, but my concern was with choosing a rebuilder simply because they offered a suspiciously low price.

A cheap rebuild that has to be done twice is an expensive rebuild.

If there’s an established conversion specialist you trust and no practical access to a capable WBX rebuilder, a conversion may be the more workable option for you. Having someone who understands and supports the finished installation matters.

You have the skills, space, and time to do it yourself

A DIY conversion can be an excellent project for a capable mechanic.

You can reduce labor costs, particularly with some of the well-established Subaru conversions, while learning a tremendous amount about your van. That knowledge can be valuable if something needs attention later.

There’s real satisfaction in driving a vehicle you’ve put together yourself.

But be realistic. You’ll need mechanical ability, a suitable workspace, time, and the patience to work through the details. For some people, that’s an ideal way to spend a season. For others, it’s a project that will keep them from using the van they bought to enjoy.

How Miki changed my mind

The stock-versus-conversion debate was well established long before I wrote this article. I don’t expect to settle it.

What concerned me was the assumption I kept encountering: that replacing the original engine was something every Vanagon owner should plan to do, preferably as soon as possible.

It sometimes seemed irrelevant whether the engine was running well. The conversion was treated as an inevitable next step.

I was guilty of that thinking too.

Then I bought Miki.

The Waterboxer was running reasonably well, so I decided to live with it for the better part of a year before making any decisions. I wanted to learn what it was like to own and travel with one.

During the summer of 2020, I drove from my home in La Paz, Baja California Sur, to Puerto Vallarta, then into the mountains around Guanajuato and north to Monterrey. The return journey took me through Pátzcuaro, Michoacán, Puerto Vallarta, and Culiacán before I made my way home to La Paz.

About 5,000 miles in all.

Somewhere along the way, I fell in love with that engine.

When I returned, I had it torn down and rebuilt at Geraldo’s VWs in La Paz. It was still running well. I wanted to understand its condition and establish a known starting point for the years ahead.

By the end of 2020, I’d put about 1,000 miles on the rebuilt engine. It was running beautifully, and I continued to be surprised by how much I enjoyed maintaining it.

Its character and personality felt like a perfect match for the Vanagon.

Could I change my mind someday? Of course.

But those miles taught me that an engine conversion deserves to be a considered choice. There is beauty, usefulness, and a great deal of fun to be found in the engine your Vanagon came with.

Give yourself a chance to discover that before you remove it.

And if, after thinking it through, a conversion still feels right for you, then by all means do it. Do it well, understand what you’re taking on, and enjoy your van.

The humble, underappreciated Waterboxer deserves our love and consideration.

Long live the WBX!