Winding up my new job was a breeze. I was going to be away for a month, but there was no rushing to meet deadlines, or working frantically to tie up loose ends, it was pretty straightforward. I still had time on my last day to remove a huge cactus stump from the backyard and cut the outdoor blind to size to prevent the “three doors” fiasco. I could say goodbye to Scottsdale knowing that I’d left my in-laws in a functioning home. Poor Cleo is so confused but she’ll do alright. She’s in good company. Happy birthday Deb, I hope the rest of those Lillies flowered before you left.
My flight (the first of many) to San Francisco was seamless. It was easy to spot Nick when he drove through the crowd to pick me up. He had the top down on his yellow Camaro and despite the late hour, it was blissfully warm driving south towards Santa Cruz. The sun was setting as we pulled up to the Shanty Shack and now it was jumper weather. Ross, Jen, Levi and Jonah were there waiting for us and I happily received their hugs. They’d been to Australia since the last time I saw them so we had lots to catch up on. Levi was animated and was talking even more than he had been when he left. They reminded me of what I had waiting for me at home, even if it was just the simple things like a curry meat pie.
Way past the boys’ bedtime, we said goodbye and Nick and I continued our drive south to his home in Pebble Beach. This was my third pilgrimage to car week and Nick’s fifth. An annual celebration of the motor vehicle and its heritage, it is something that will trump all else on my calendar for a long time. We pulled into the driveway around 10:30pm and Katy was waiting for us. We sat outside on their new outdoor furniture and I enjoyed the prime position by the fire as we caught up and sipped on hot drinks.
Little Car Show
Wednesday was our first day of volunteering. Nick was the new edition to the Media Host team and though the daily early morning wake-ups were a cause of concern for him, he was bright and cheery for our 8:45am departure. Our beige and white uniforms matched the interior of his new Jaguar I-Pace and with it being electric, we didn’t even disturb the deer on our mile-long drive down to Concours Village. We missed our carpark turn-off but soon found ourselves in Lot 12 and walking into a village that, just like last year, was nowhere near ready for guests.
We found the Weathertech Media Center easily enough and, just like last year, nothing was ready. Our volunteer coordinator was nowhere to be seen, nor was Greg, the Media Center boss. We took it upon ourselves to wander around the village and get the lay of the land. The Mercedes temporary building was now twice as big and while the vendors inside RetroAuto were mostly the same, there was now a coffee shop serving hot drinks and pastries, a much-needed addition for the patrons.
Back at the Media Center, our volunteer kits were ready. When we looked inside the bag, we were shocked to see bright colors. While the scarf and tie were the usual dark blue color with little cars forming a pattern and a Pebble Beach logo, this year we’d be donning bright red vests with bright yellow hats. Now presenting the 2023 Concours d’Elegance, proudly sponsored by McDonalds!
Still with nothing to do, we wandered over to the Gooding auction house to glean some information about the weekend happenings. Having just opened for the week, the people at the front desk were chatty. They informed me about the schedule and what patrons could expect for their $50 admission fee. We were surprised when they offered us wristbands so that we could go in for a look at the vehicles on sale, as long as we gave them back when we were done. Well! We’d talked about paying the $50 to see the Gooding auction on Thursday afternoon but now that decision was made for us.
We wandered the aisles for a good hour, chatting to a security guard, admiring the variety of cars and gawking at the expected prices. This was not your run-of-the-mill car auction. I’m surprised the entry fee wasn’t $500.
Somewhat naively, we tried to exit without giving up the wristbands, but we were caught and feigned forgetfulness as we handed them back. I felt bad for taking advantage of such kind people and pretty stupid for trying to exit subtly while dressed as Ronald McDonald. But no harm done, we were soon back to our volunteer posts.
Tablecloths had now arrived on a rack so we set to it, taking it very slowly as we covered each of the decrepit folding tables with nice black and white tablecloths to dress up the place. By noon, we had a couple of media personnel showing up but we were turning them away until opening time at 1pm.
After dressing up the back eating area, we sat down to enjoy our gourmet bagged lunch. I’m not joking when I say gourmet. They do a stunning job of feeding a lot of volunteers and staff members. As we ate, our afternoon volunteers Emma and Gary showed up. I’d met them last year and so we caught up on our years and they heard Nick’s story.
With Emma and Gary keen to get their shift started, Nick and I bailed. We had a little car show to get to. After a quick stop at home where Katy was in the middle of her work day, we drove over to Pacific Grove to the Little Car Show. Feeling a bit of deja vu from last year, we wandered down Lighthouse Avenue and found Minis and Bugeye Sprites galore. This was my kind of car show and knowing that I’d be touching the pedals of my very own mini in just a few weeks, it felt more special than usual.
An old-timer band played period-appropriate music and dogs trotted by their owners as we strolled the avenue, stopping at the cars that interested us which for me was many.
Back home, we had plans to bleed the brakes of Nick’s 1966 Mustang, but with dinner reservations around the corner, we opted to leave it for after dinner.
We enjoyed a lovely four-course fondu experience which to me was a treat but for Nick and Katy was an average meal. We had a pretty early night following that, sitting outside by the fire before retiring in preparation for an early-ish start.
Tour d’Elegance
The Tour might be my highlight of Car Week. One of only a few opportunities to see the Concours cars in motion, it is the only tie in the weekend to see dozens of them moving together in unison.
Nick is NOT a morning person, so a 7am arrival time to the grid wasn’t on the cards. Instead, we were rolling into the Concours Village around 8am and were waved past our normal Lot 12 parking. A popular event this year! Through the hoards, Nick played it like a local, taking pole position at The Hay Restaurant while the plebs were waved towards some other parking lot.
It was a warm barely foggy morning and the grid was buzzing with anticipation. This was the place to be. Three Mercedes lined the field and what a field it was. It was standing room only between the cars and like every year, I was flabbergasted at the proximity of people, cameras, coffee and zippers to some of the most expensive and sought after cars in the world.
Nick and I were quickly separated as he took photos and I wound my way through the field. This is where I would find my pick for Best in Show and I looked forward to the heart-flutter when I found it.
I couldn’t tell you what most of the cars were without looking at the badge situated on the bonnet but it didn’t matter, they were beautiful machines and their owners were on cloud nine. There were many handshakes and conversations involving folded arms with an inquisitive hand held up to a chin.
After reaching the back of the grid, I explored the side staging area. Here, dozens of transport trucks lined the road displaying how these machines had made it here. This was obviously where many of the cars touched Concours ground for the first time and it would have been a pleasure to watch some of them unload.
It was nearing 9am now so it was time to get to the front for the start. That’s when I saw her, my 1930 Rolls-Royce Phantom II Barker Torpedo Sports. Of course I had no idea what it was and it’s beside the point. The boat tail took my breath away. The color, the chrome hood, it was a thing of beauty. I didn’t have much time to admire her, but I knew I’d found my mark.
I found Nick near the front of the grid and we lined up on driver’s right against the fence with our toes hanging over the kerb, feeling a little like the pit crew of an F1 team standing trackside with tire blankets in hand.
Engines starting firing up then and the cameras came out. Not mine though, my hands were busy applauding as engines roared to life and we were transported back to the early 1900s.
A far cry from a race start, the Tour d’Elegance rolled off with much honking of horns and revving of engines. For many owners, this was the culmination of years of work and it showed. While a Lambhorghini with a heavily costumed driver (think full 70s with a dark tan, white Elvis suit and bubble glasses) had issues getting his car started, the start was otherwise seamless.
At the conclusion of the first wave, it was nearly 9:30am and past time for us to report for duty. We found a quiet Media Center in the village and our shift was spent contemplating improvements that were much needed, including a name change from “village” to “boulevard” and artistic signage so people actually knew where stuff was. Yes, the bathrooms were by the entrance to the right. No, you can’t pinch the media center coffee, but there is some available for sale further down the avenue.
I talked to a group of five guys huddled outside the media tent who had been employed to cover a single car. Their time over five days chasing the car and snapping photos and video would culminate into a single one-minute video. Seemed a lot of work and people for such a piece of content, but hey, that’s 2023.
Just past 11am, we could hear the tour vehicles returning after a successful drive. That meant we were soon directing the owners of those vehicles to the Mercedes building at the end of the avenue. Their exclusive hats and general air of importance made them easy to spot, but they weren’t all bad.
We tag teamed for lunch and were soon greeted by Emma and Gary and so made a quick exit. Scarf and tie off, we dipped home to change and give Katy a quick wave as she worked. Ten minutes later, I was behind the wheel of the Jag and driving us over to the Del Monte golf course for the Mecum Auction. Nick and I had made our first pilgrimage here last year and already had an afternoon cocktail in mind. We parked at the door, bought our tickets for $30 (up from $20 last year) and were soon wandering the aisles of vehicles on sale, both classic and modern.
We remembered the lay of the land pretty well and were in desperate need of a sit-down after a full morning of standing. We got ourselves sorted with a pair of Margaritas and sat down in the auction house to watch some sales happen.
It was a quiet day with not many active bidders and heaps of pass-ins, but the enthusiasm of the auctioneers was on point. There were a few that got close to their reserve and the auctioneer was able to chat directly with the owner who’d be standing by the podium and the crowd gave a huge cheer if the owner gave a thumbs up indicating that he was willing to ditch the reserve and sell.
It goes without saying that the auctioneers sounded ridiculous with their “habada-habadas” and “gibidi-gibidis”. If they didn’t have the big screen overhead with the current bid, I’d have been lost. I couldn’t help but laugh when they got into a rhythm.
We stayed until the last sale of the day which was about 3:30pm. By that time our legs were able to contemplate more standing and strolling and we wandered through the inside then outside inventory.
We ran into an older couple that recognized us from the Village and they made a second offer to buy our special yellow volunteer hats. We learnt about them being from Wisconsin and here to support a Concours car owned by McPherson college, which would go on to place in their class.
Nick then got chatting to someone near a Cobra and I met a guy who was writing up the porches on sale for a magazine and he advised me which one I should spend my dollars on should I be so inclined.
We wandered until closing time, gawking at all sorts of car, some destined for sale over the weekend and others parked in the “graveyard” after failing to sell.
Back home again and we happily cruised south a short distance on the highway while northbound suffered in crawling traffic. Katy was off-duty at this point so we cracked a bottle of pink bubbly while Katy single-handedly prepared pizzas for dinner. With the day still beautiful outside, we opted to take the Camaro for a top-down drive to the beach for a picnic.
One of their favorite benches was available so we parked up and I conversely sat facing the road knowing that there’d be a car show going on opposite the ocean. A couple of makeshift cone chicanes had been erected along 17-mile drive to discourage hooning, but that didn’t stop people. There was a photoshoot of a Concours car happening at the next pull-off down from us and every other car that drove by was special.
After dinner (which was delicious), we called Dave and Andrea to check in. They’d dropped their daughter off at university yesterday and so car week was not only a celebration of the car for them, but a freedom party. Everything had gone very smoothly and they planned to be on their way to us tomorrow morning. Great news.
Once the cold took over, we bailed with Nick taking the cheap seat in the back row for the ride home. Now for the Mustang brakes. There is a distinct difference between Nick and I. I would elect to do a brake job at 7:30AM, whereas he was a 7:30PM guy. I was to be brake bitch and pump the pedal while he directed brake fluid through the system to get rid of any air bubbles.
I settled nicely into the assistant role and once he got it jacked up and found the right tube size, we were in position. We didn’t start well with brake fluid spewing from the reservoir because we left the cap off. At least it didn’t get onto the exterior paint but it meant a pretty big clean-up effort. All four corners went smoothly from that point and we were done by 9:30pm. The Mustang was ready to hit the streets after an anti-brake fluid hose down in the driveway.
We watched a show in the living room before I had an early night, excited for our team to grow in size tomorrow.
Dave
A normal 9am start this morning, it was nice to have a lie-in. We didn’t see Katy in the morning as she was enjoying a well-earned sleep-in. It was a slow day in the village with no Tour folk to walk through and the weekend crowd not arrived yet. Nick was good company and we both went for walks up and down the paddock when the standing became too much. It was a day for catching up with the Sacramento Porsche Club volunteers. This massive band of enthusiasts were roaming volunteers and had familiar faces from yers past though I was hopeless at remembering anyone’s name.
Miraculously, for the first time in my three years attending car week, the sun came out! It was full on from 10am and you could see the volunteers down the avenue sweating in their red vests. I was rejoicing as everyone else walked by as if it was a Phoenix summer’s day.
Nick tracked Dave and Andrea’s progress with his Apple technology, including monitoring the activity at his doorbell. He was stoked to announce when they were on their way. He went out back to have lunch so he could bail when they arrived and it was close to knock-off time when we saw Dave, Andrea and Katy wander into the Concours village. It had been just over a month since I last saw D&A but it felt like longer. I got some big hugs, then presented them with some water (limited edition bottles this year) for their trek down the avenue.
By the time they came back down the avenue, the afternoon shift couple had finished their lunch and ready to take the door so we all left together. Nick was in full holiday mode with his shirt untucked and a Sierra Nevada poured by Mercedes in his hand.
We caravanned home then after some light refreshments, we left Andrea to recover from the emotional stress of becoming an empty nester to go back to the Mecum auction. We’d thrown around the idea of going to the Gooding auction house for Dave’s sake, but the class and quantity of car at Mecum seemed more the required pace.
Another tour around the golf course to find a park, then we were ticketed, Margarita’d and in the sat in the bleachers. It was much busier today with the bidding section more than three-quarters full and more energy filled the room than the day before. It was fun to have Katy to laugh with this time and I grabbed a program so we could follow along with what was happening.
Outside, we did a very slow wander, with me and Katy finding ourselves in a natural pair. Nick and Dave stopped for at least twenty minutes at each Mustang so we soon gave up trying to keep track of them.
Again, it was nearly closing time when we got back to the car. With a fancy dinner reservation ahead of us, we were home for only one drink on the outdoor lounge and a custom change before heading out again.
We piled into an Uber and were dropped off in the heart of Carmel outside a gorgeous Italian restaurant. Fancy cars lined the streets, some sat on red carpet placed outside restaurants and shops of note. If you hadn’t known it was car week, this would have made it very obvious. We made our reservation with 2 minutes to spare (a no-show during car week would cost you $50) and were placed at a lovely tucked-away booth by a dimly light wall lined with wine bottles and beautiful exposed brick overhead.
We were well looked after and while Katy and Dave had poor luck with their cocktails, we all enjoyed some beautiful food, the pinnacle of which was Tiramisu for dessert.
Out the door at nearly 10pm, Carmel was just getting warmed up for the night. The sidewalks were packed and people were camped out at every intersection just to watch the cars go by, whatever they were. Another Uber took us home and it was back to the outdoor lounge for chatting. Katy got the Cards of Humanity out, but we just never got to it.
Wes at the Track
I was flying properly solo today. Nick and Dave had their volunteer orientation and then a full day at Laguna Seca. Wes, another mate from SLAC, made the drive down for the day for his first car week experience. I got up early so I could hang out with him a bit before they left. I had an hour to myself so I blogged and did some reading before heading out in the Camaro.
The slow day I was dreading never eventuated. I caught up with Greg, the media center coordinator, hammed it up with the Porsche club people and watched the people show play out. It was the weekend now so the crowds were starting to flood the village.
I poked my head into the Classic Car Forum for Jerry Seinfeld’s slot and thoroughly enjoyed his twenty minute appearance. Having never listened or watched any of his car shows or podcasts, it was a pleasure to watch him enter the room, take it over and so comfortable talk non-stop about Porches, cracking jokes all the while. It was a nice experience.
As I sat out back having lunch, I saw a dark Volvo whisk Seinfeld away to his next adventure and I looked forward to the end of my volunteering duties. It really is such fun, the provided lunches are excellent and the media team are a pleasure, but standing and smiling for four hours a day four days in a row was tiring.
I called my volunteer coordinator to get my Sunday tickets and dipped into the back of the RetroAuto merchandise area to meet one of her representatives. Wow did they have a lot of stuff to sell. Tickets in hand, I reluctantly handed back the parking pass in return then I was ready for the holiday part of my car week to begin.
After Emma and Gary had luncheoned, I didn’t hang around. The vest and scarf was off for the last time, I did a dirtbag change of clothes in the carpark, then put the top down in the Camaro and drove off.
At Laguna Seca I was feeling like a regular having just been here for a mountain bike race not long ago. Ticketing and parking was a breeze (with the roof up to prevent dust coming in) and the sun was out which is always good at Laguna. I walked over the newly constructed bridge and had to block my ears from the muscle cars belting around the recently resurfaced track.
After a quick stint in a grandstand, I started wandering towards Turn 4 where the boys were. At the end of the muscle car race I got distracted as they all piled into the pits and followed them in.
That then put me at the track entrance so I stood to watch the F5000 fire up and blast onto the track. Bloody hell they were loud. This was a series that died and had been revived by a bunch of Aussie teams so I was in good company. I spotted a guy wearing a Targa Tasmania hat and meant to talk to him but he was gone by the time the engine noise had died down.
I did a quick wander through the paddock, then visited the infield where I was inspired by a fully-electric caravan that had some great design solutions for compact living. I took note and the representatives, one of whom as drinking a beer, were kind enough to send me away with a couple of nice gifts which I thought would be just perfect for Katy and Andrea.
There were more Minis to appreciate here so I took it slow as I walked amongst them.
The boys had moved on to the Corkscrew now so I crossed another bridge and took the scenic route up the hill. I got talking to a fan heading back to his camp and he explained that he’d raced here with a Honda Civic (lame) but planned to come back soon with his 60s Mustang (better). Laguna is such a local’s track.
I’d been at the corkscrew only five minutes before the boys walked up the pathway to join me in some shade. They looked in good condition and still had one cold beer in the esky. We sat down and they told me about their day between the on-track action. We saw LeMans-style cars, F1 cars from all sorts of eras and general loudness.
There were varying levels of raciness amongst the field but there was always enough to keep us entertained. It was interesting to watch a couple of cars get towed back to the pits at the corkscrew. They got towed to the first apex then disconnected to roll down the hill in neutral.
With only one race remaining on the ticket, we head back down the hill and I saw just how good the advance team’s parking job was. They were right in the middle of the circuit with a great view. We stayed by the car watching Minis, Escorts and Alfa Romeos beat around the track. All the fans had gone home, but I made up for it with my enthusiasm.
We cheered on a beautiful red and white Mini with the full bar of rally lights on the front and commiserated when we watched a yellow mini slow after navigating turn 1, then put out a little smoke, then put out a lot of smoke and come to a stop trackside. Not a good way to end your day of racing.
Nick and I left Wes and Dave with the Mercedes and walked to the opposite side of the track and back to the Camaro. It was quite the walk and we did alright but I could tell Nick’s enthusiasm was waning. He’d had four early starts in a row now and the earliest was still to come the following day so I think it was weighing on him.
We had an easy breezy drive home (top down) and when Nick probably just wanted to put his feet up, he was on cooking duty for the evening’s barbecue. This week really is non-stop. The girls had put out a great spread and the neighbor Irene and her friend Sonia were soon with us. We all had a fun night and enjoyed some exceptionally cooked and prepared food by our hosts. I was grateful to have a good catch up with Wes because we’re both going through similar things in our families. He’s an amazing friend to have.
Irene and Sonia took their leave around 10pm and we stayed on the couches for another hour or so. I was concerned when Nick’s enthusiasm went low enough for him to suggest that Dawn Patrol wasn’t worth it, but he seemed to come around, even though we decided on a departure time of 4:30am.
Boat Show?
I could hear showers running elsewhere in the house when I hopped into my bathroom at 4:10am. No breakfast for anyone, but Nick and Dave got their coffee. With our chairs and blankets lined up at the door, the Jag was loaded by 4:30am and Katy was in the driver’s seat wearing her pajama uniform.
As we drove through the dark village, we were surprised at how far we got. Last year, we had to walk down the hill, but today, Katy dropped us off right at the entrance. We’re getting better and better at this! We skipped by the concept green and down into the alleyway entrance where programs sat fresh in their boxes and early morning volunteers milled about. Our surprise showed on our faces when a well-dressed man informed us that no one would be let in until 5:30am. I told him that this was new and he shrugged telling me it’s the way it should have been last year too. Hmm. We perched on a rock wall for five minutes, then decided we might as well go get breakfast.
Another gentleman at the front of the queue offered to keep an eye on our chairs and so we left them and backtracked to the volunteers tent. Dave and I enjoyed a hot sausage and egg sandwich while Nick sipped on coffee. The tent was full of yellow hatted people by the time we left at 5:15am.
There was a queue now! It seemed pointless keeping us all milling about out here when we could simply be filing about inside. The auto who plays Jesse in Breaking Bad thought the same. He stood by us in a nicely cut light colored suit and I recognized him more from being here last year than from the TV show. When he enquired as to the queue I politely informed him that this was the new standard! Made us look pretty good queueing with a celebrity.
I helped a fellow packhorse in front of us to fold his blankets just as the line started to move forward. Through the security scanners we went, past a group of people who didn’t have their wristbands yet and had to muck around with scanning digital tickets.
A short bag inspection for me then we walked across the hallowed ground. Though there wasn’t much competition, we got the blanket laid out with the chairs in my favorite spot on the far side of the exit road, then joined in the crowd for a donut and more coffee for the boys. And now we wait.
It was comical. Everyone was doing the same thing – scanning the crowd, hoping to be the first to spot the Haggerty employees with their tote bags full of limited edition hats. After we made friends with a pair of volunteers that had no less than ten dawn patrol hats, I stopped looking for the Haggerty people and just watched them.
It was just past 6am when I wandered out of the crowd to have a look at the “D” in front of the ramp to see how many blankets were set out. Not many really, it would be a dispersed crowd. It was then that I noticed the Haggerty people walking across the lawn. The hats were here! I politely asked for mine then went straight back into the crowd to alert Nick and Dave. A small wave had already started in the direction of the hat people so they joined in. We barely had time to admire our swag before we got well out of there before the swarm began.
The hats were beautiful. These are not the cheapest ones on offer, but have embroidery on all sides and even an under-brim pattern. After snapping a quick photo of the dream team, we made out way towards the car entrance and vehicles started rolling in! Sandra Button, the head of the Concours was there handing owner’s their show packets and the headlights of 100-year old cars cut through the list mist. The hats were nice, but this is really what we’d come for.
Some engines roared while others purred along so quietly we had to wonder if they were electric. We were front and center for the show but after some coaxing, we convinced an older gentleman on a mobility scooter to please get in front of us. We stayed in position until Nick and Dave had to go off for volunteer check-in. At that point, I wandered off down the field.
The show was already half-curated by the time I got to the 17th green. They don’t muck around positioning these cars. I got in the way of at least three photographers, but they were happy when I hurried out of their shots.
I meandered past the rich and famous lodgings along the eighteenth fairway where morning refreshments were being served to people in their bathrobes. A little different to my Concours experience.
Wandering back up the field towards the ramp, I took it slowly. Stopping to admire the frantic polishing work going on. Each gill, hood ornament and chrome accent was being polished within minutes of the car being parked. It was nearly 7am now and judging started at 8am. If you were the first, you had to be ready.
I found my Rolls Royce halfway down the field. They had it opened up with the portable vacuums going and at least six sets of hands going to work. I saw an idle hand standing at the back of the vehicle and got talking to him. I asked if he knew when they would be judged and if they’d have to put up the convertible roof as part of the assessment. It was an “I don’t know” to both since he was a junior on the team, but he told me his Dad owned the car and it had come all the way from San Carlos. That was just up the road around the corner from where I used to live!
I continued admiring, not really able to walk away from the beauty. There was just so much to this car that I wanted to look at. The Dad had a spare minute then so he came over to have a chat. What a humble guy, he was just happy to be here. Where I told him this was my pick for Best in Show, he almost cowered away. They didn’t want for anything, it was enough to just be parked up on the field.
I met up with Nick and Dave again, then lost them, then found them again, but they were soon off for their volunteering duties for the day so the field belonged to me.
I watched a few cars get judged and it was fascinating. The owners endured a team of four judges hovering over the car, pointing with their pencils, asking questions and generally being very judgy.
Some owners were clearly flustered. One guy just wanted to show them the radiator cap he kept in the trunk no matter what the question. Another owner of a black American dream car was as relaxed as can be – I later saw that he was a judge himself so he knew the drill.
A younger owner with a Lamborghini Miura was clearly nervous but honored to have his car judged at the Concours d’Elegance. When, after a few attempts at starting the car, it finally turned over and idled nicely, his shoulders visibly dropped with relief. When the judge told him that the car was blowing smoke meaning that they’d have to stop their judging, his face turned white, his eyes wide in horror. A moment later, the judge smiled. He’d been joking, the cruel bugger.
I didn’t get to see my car go under the microscope but I didn’t really want to. I didn’t want to hear anyone saying anything bad about it.
By 9:30am I was ready for a sit down. I left het field to get a program then came back in to sit at the blanket. There weren’t many others competing for space so I would be comfortable all day. I installed the blanket I’d brought onto my knees, got out my program and snuggled up to read. Before today, I’d planned to sit and read the program cover to cover before heading out onto the field again, but I only got to the first page when I realized there was a concept car green and Ferrari fest out on the first hole. There was just too much to see!
Nick was forced onto his lunch break at 10:30am so I met him at the concept lawn for a wander around the flashy new vehicles.
After picking up lunch we wandered along the first hole fairway where Ferrari’s were lined up in front of Casa Ferrari.
A similar party to this year, the sun was coming out now and you could get into this without a ticket. Not a bad party for the price.
Nick was overheating so we sat in the shade of the tree while he ate his lunch. Once he was done, we’d been gone almost an hour so he needed to get back to his station. We said goodbye and only a few minutes later, I said hello to Katy and Andrea. Though they’d been a part of Car Week for many years, the was their first experience of the actual show and I was happy to play chaperone.
I lead them past the concept green and through bag check towards the ramp and the green. We couldn’t see either of their husbands now thanks to the throng of people stationed near the lodge but they were satisfied with the spot I’d nabbed on the green.
Not long after they were settled, I locked eyes with Ken, an older member of the media team, sitting nearby on a fold-up chair. I wandered over to him for a chat. Well, did we get to know each other! He was a lovely chap who’d been following the Concours with his handy-cam for years. We swapped stories about the cars he covered, about why I was in America and how happy to be where we were. It was Katy who called me away and us ladies went off to walk the field.
It was important they pick out their favorites because we had a running bet for who could predict the best in show. I kept running into people I knew the whole way, so much so that I was in danger of becoming like Dave (who knew everyone who grew up anyway near the Bay Area).
And then, the sun came out! For the first time in three years, the Concours field was showered in sunshine! It became really obvious when I directed Katy towards a black American dream car, knowing that she liked black cars and Corvettes and this ticked both of those boxes. In the sun though, the black lines weren’t black at all, they were brown.
We didn’t make it all the way down the field. Andrea found her favorite and was looking for the bar soon after. With Bloody Maries in hand, we wandered back through and I showed the girls my Rolls Royce. They commended my choice.
Before getting back to the blanket, we ran into Irene, Sonia and her two daughters. They were properly dressed up and happy to be at their first Concours. We didn’t stop them for long as they had a lunch to get to!
We made ourselves comfortable back at the blanket and I got out my volunteer lunch while the girls unpacked their picnic and popped the champagne. The awards ceremony was about to begin.
After the judges were all brought on stage, the cars started driving over the ramp before us. Just like last year, the speakers were nowhere near loud enough so I whipped out my car guide to follow along with the vehicles that were coming top three in their class.
Happy owners brandished their trophies out the window as they drove by us and appeased the adoring crowd with a wave. Katy and Andrea didn’t even have to yell when they said “Well done!” as each drove past, they were so close to us.
The cars were beautiful and when the H class came about, I was nervous. My Rolls was in that class. To win best in show, first you had to win best in class. Sure enough, she rolled over the ramp at the top of the podium and I was ecstatic.
At the end of the main judging, they did a few special awards, but I wandered off to walk through the coral of Best in Class vehicles. It was something I hadn’t done before and it was a good chance to call Dad. Having briefly walked the field, he had a better idea of the lay of the land so could appreciate it more. He was as shocked as I had been when our FaceTime call connected and he saw the sun shining. I walked him through the Best in Class and pointed out my Rolls once again. I’m not sure he really knew what he was looking at but it was fun to show him anyway.
Back to the ramp and I was in trouble because I’d forgotten to get Andrea another drink from the bar. No time now, the final prize was about to be awarded.
What I couldn’t believe was how many people were leaving or had already left. The entire Porsche club volunteer crew that set up across from us had bailed, each pairing waving to me as they left. Trying to beat the masses I guess, but how could you not stay for the confetti?
Just as I started asking Katy about her impressions of the event, we were interrupted by a right dickhead who clearly wanted someone to earfuck. I quickly turned my ear but Katy got trapped. As I was looking around, I noticed a few photographers gathering at the end of the ramp. Volunteers had been stationed there all day to keep people moving along but they seemed to have abandoned their posts. I decided to head up the hill and join them.
I was rewarded with a clear view of the ramp. I could see three of the four contenders for Best in Show parked up and hoped that my Rolls was the fourth that sat out of my view. The drums rolled and the envelope was opened. It was a 1930s black Mercedes cabriolet that took the prize. It rolled onto the ramp and the car-shaped confetti soon clouded my vision of the car. I was sad for my Rolls, it hadn’t made the top four, but it was hard not to be caught up in the show.
While volunteers controlled the crowd for a few minutes, the plebs were soon able to walk up to the winning car on the ramp so I walked that way to meet Dave and Nick at the front of the lodge. They’d managed to grab four beers between them so one of those ended up in my hand.
We watched over the proceedings, congratulating ourselves on another great year.
To my horror, I looked down to our blanket and saw that Katy was still getting ear fucked. I called her and I saw her pass her phone to Andrea. I told her that they should join us, but soon after, we were kicked out. The Lodge had dinner guests to serve.
We lingered as long as we could then met the ladies back at the blanket. Cars were leaving the field and festival-goers were heading for the exits. Katy joined them to walk home and get the Jaguar while the rest of us wandered back up the green. This, the wind down, was one of our favorite parts. When I saw the owner of my Rolls sitting in the driver’s seat, seemingly taking it all in, I wandered over to shake his hand. When I asked how he was feeling, he said he was over the moon with Best in Class. It had been an honor to attend. I thanked him for the car and left him to ruminate.
We all wandered together and apart. Mine and Andrea’s phone had died so we left it to the boys to do the photography and didn’t bother with any trophy hunting. We just enjoyed the atmosphere.
By the time we’d walked up and back, we were a bit rushed to make our dinner reservation at Hay’s Place. Katy had got the car and walked down to meet us because the boys were taking so long. We picked up our gear and headed up the hill at a brisk pace.
The warmth had gone out of the day but not so much that we needed a fire pit. We enjoyed some cocktails and a beautiful dinner, talking over each other about our days. This was the wrap-up. The boys shared a tequila shot for dessert while Katy and I split the chocolate cake. It was the perfect end to our day.
I played designated driver and took us up the hill where Dave was riding a high. While he failed in his attempt to prank Nick with a puddle of fake brake fluid (beer) underneath the car, he was happy to watch “The Rendezvous” short film on Nick’s TV – the start of what would become a mini car-movie-night.
I said goodbye to my friends around 10pm, knowing I had an early morning. This week meant the world to me and there was no way I could thank them enough for it. I hugged Katy first and by the time I’d got round to Nick, Katy was in line for another hug. I gave it and put my head on my pillow shortly after. I was floating.
