Sunday at the Corkscrew
Dad and I were exhausted from all the driving so we had a lie in. We slept in separate beds in JoJoe’s room and thankfully neither of us had any separation anxiety through the night. I was woken up by Levi crawling into my bed to tell me about his sleep. He’d had some interesting dreams!
We weren’t in any rush to get anywhere so Jen cooked up a big breakfast while JoJoe and I got a game of “Magic” in and the big boys talked at the table. Levi was talking a big game over breakfast about his riding skills so before we went to the track, we had to see them. He performed his best skid and pedaled proficiently up and down the drive and we were all suitably impressed.
After making us all lunch, we left Jen to an empty house to catch up on work while the rest of us piled into the white Mazda for a drive down to Laguna Seca. Dad and I were both thoroughly happy to not be behind the steering wheel.
Us kids played I-Spy in the back while the grown-ups talked and the drive went quickly. I presented some pre-purchased tickets at the drive-in gate and we were soon parked on the infield and walking towards the sound of racing cars.
We crossed over the track and head straight for the pits and walked around them for a good two hours. I thought it might end up being a short day when Levi cried, “What are we doing here?”
After Ross explained that these cars would soon be racing out on the track, he seemed to get it and that was the last complaint we heard from him. What a great sport.
Dad and I were predictably enamored with the Minis amongst the field and did our best to spot any names or faces that we knew.
One of Niki Lauda’s F1 cars was the best pick I had.
JoJoe was finding every pink car he could and Levi just wanted to get in and drive all of them.
We stood at the track entrance a while to watch a category line up for their session. It was a big class with 1970s era Porches, Alfas and the like and most of them were being driven by fat old white men.
As they started their engines and rolled towards the track, one of them wasn’t being driven by anybody. There were many phone calls being made and eventually a guy came running, half in his suit and clambering with his helmet. Dad figured he’d probably been having a poo…. It meant he started from the back of the grid but he ended up finishing way up the field!
Leaving the pits, we walked a bit through the infield seeing some of the more modern automobile offerings, then started the climb up towards the Corkscrew. I’d mentioned the steep climb to Dad but after Spa, this wasn’t even a hill.
We made camp in the shade of some trees at the Corkscrew and that brought us to lunch time. Levi was in charge of doling things out and it would be the first time of many that his hands went into our lunch pack looking for snacks.
It was so nice to be at the track with my adopted Aussie family, especially with the kids when they found so many different things to get excited about.
The corkscrew really was the best place to see these different cars in action but I still maintain that a TV is required at the top of that hill to give fans like us the full picture. With our chairs set up, we were properly comfortable so the corkscrew is where we remained for the rest of the afternoon.
Despite the sun, the cold breeze sent me and Dad back to the car to retrieve jackets after the historic F1 class. After a bathroom break, we spotted a golf cart and managed to nab a ride down the hill which meant we made it in time to see a guy bin it at the exit of Turn 5. He turned himself completely around, just managing to miss the barriers.
Jumpers in hand, we cross the pits again then trekked back up the hill. I wasn’t sure the kids would stick it out until the last run of the day, but Ross’ enthusiasm was as high as mine so we got to see the McMurtry crazy suction-fan car on the hill climb. It was a unique experience to see cars going backwards up the corkscrew – to see any car going in a reverse direction around a track is weird, but this was something else.
We all looked at each other in shock at what we’d just seen. The car was absolutely glued to the track and the speed it carried through the complex camber of the corkscrew was out of this world. Not only that, the high pitch whine of the electric motors coupled with the whoosh of the underbody fans just made it seem alien.
Levi’s excitement level peaked a few runs later when a massive bright red tractor made its run up the hill climb, setting a new fastest time for its class of 3 minutes and change. The McMurtry had been under 30 seconds!
With the McMurtry due for a second run, we were keen to see it flat out so packed up camp and started our walk down the hill. We stood and braved the now bitterly cold wind at the entry to the last right-hander and we were rewarded for our patience with the silently screaming McMurtry flying past us full tilt. Wow.
It was a long walk back to the car, but we were all on a high after a brilliant day at the track in brilliant company. It had definitely felt like a warm-up for the week to come and it got me all sorts of excited. We all piled into the car and were soon into the fog of Monterey where we stopped at a Mexican place for some much needed dinner. We ate big and talked about our highlights. Back in the car for the drive home, Levi was asleep in ten minutes.
Welcome to Pebble Beach
Monday was a bit of a free day for us so we moulded into a normal Arthur family day. We wished Jen (middle school teacher) and JoJoe (middle school student) a good day, then hopped in the car with Ross and Levi to chaperone him to Pre-K. He was proud of his school attendance and you wouldn’t know this was only his second week. It was like he’d been doing this all his life.
We walked through fog joining the masses of other parents parked up in the neighborhood then walking hand-in-hand with kids of all sizes towards the massive complex. I would have gotten lost in a minute but Levi was the boss and he lead the way to his room. He couldn’t say goodbye fast enough, he was ready to start his day!
Back home, the house was quiet and I did a couple hours work over a light breakfast, then we were out again to Caneppa – a classic car restoration facility that had a museum attached. This had been Ross’ idea, I’d never heard of it but it was a great addition to Car Week. The sun came out as we parked up at the modern building and at the entrance we were told about the museum and the catwalk above the workshop.
We started at the catwalk that ran above the huge workshop below where at least a dozen bays existed, most with an exotic or historic car staged in them. The workshop was quiet at first so we had time to soak it all in, but then the guys came off break and there was almost too much to look at.
We each noticed different things, contemplated what different pieces of equipment were for, why a guy was doing something a certain way but we all left feeling like we wanted to work there. We must have spent an hour up on that catwalk just mesmerized by the work these talented people were doing on some very beautiful cars.
When an older guy came through the shop obviously giving a tour, Ross pointed him out as Bruce Caneppa, the brainchild and founder of the company who’d been a racing driver in his youth. It reminded me of Carol Shelby and how he’d become the guy you wanted to shake hands with when you picked up your Mustang.
And then we had the museum to look through! It was a much more static experience, but the cars on show had a lot of history and they were beautifully staged. Most of them were from the racing world which was right up our alley and we seemed to be the only ones in there.
I shot a quick message off to the Car Week team with a photo of a few cars and when Katy replied asking if I was at Caneppa, Dave answered for me, “Yes she is.”
Downstairs we found the cars that were for sale so we laughed about possibilities as we toured some of the modern Caneppa offerings.
When a busload of people crowded the room, that was our queue to leave. To top off the whole experience, there were two Minis parked next to us as we drove out. Always a good sign.
Although it was Car Week, I can’t ever hang out with Ross without going for a bike ride and it was lunch time so what better way to go grab a beer than to do the Santa Cruz cruise? I wiped down the Raspberry Sorbet, Ross detached Levi’s trailer from his bike and Dad got settled on Jen’s e-bike.
I love the cruise from Ross’ place through the back of Paradise Park, along the levy, past the Santa Cruz boardwalk and onto the pier and it was a pleasure to show Dad this piece of my life. As instructed, we kept our eye out for a bright green BMX bike that had recently been stolen from their bike family, but we had no luck.
At the end of the pier, we stood watching the seals a while then fish and chips and a beer was starting to sound really good. It was about then that Ross’ neighbor called asking why there was a big blue van parked in her driveway. Whoops. We rode straight back to the house with empty bellies.
We sorted the van out and got chatting with the neighbor who is a lovely lady and wasn’t at all upset about the inconvenience we’d caused. That brought us to nearly 3pm when the Shanty Shack opened and we were right there as soon as the garage doors were opened. It was the go-to brewery for anyone coming down to Santa Cruz for a ride and if we couldn’t eat, we sure were going to drink!
We got one round in before Chris showed up. Chris also worked at SSRL so it was great to see him and hear that he was ditching SSRL because, well, fuck that place. He seemed so much happier for it, knowing that he was off to greener pastures and I felt for Ross. I’d left SSRL at the right time and it seemed like Chris was the only other person on Ross’ level that he could brainstorm and problem solve with. With Chris leaving, I felt for him.
It was about 4pm when an UberEats driver arrived with our lunch of Greek food and we scoffed it down. It didn’t stop us giving Ross shit about the lunch and beers he’d been promising us all day. Better late than never and he was dead right about that.
We had a great hangout in the sun over another round talking (and bitching) all things SLAC and SSRL and upcoming car week. It was a hoot and what a bonus that Chris could be with us. When school pick-up time came, Ross and Dad went off to get Levi while Chris and I took his car back to Ross’ place and got the back deck primed for some more hanging out.
It was tempting to just stay there forever, but we had to get to our next stop so we starting saying our goodbyes. While Dad went down the cul-de-sac to get Berta, Levi an opportunity to show someone new his bike skills so Chris got the full show and we got to see it a second time. He’s going to be a strong rider just like his Dad and brother.
When it came time to say goodbye, Levi wasn’t interested but we both got hugs out of him in the end and of course, Dad went beep on highway 9. Thanks for a great weekend you beautiful bunch of Aussies.
On Nick’s advice, we’d waited until after 6:30pm to leave and so avoided most of the traffic heading down highway 1 to Pebble Beach. Dad drove and I did some much-needed work, this had been my slackest day yet and I felt like I was properly taking the piss out of SLAC now.
As we pulled into Nick and Katy’s place, we saw that they’d cleared a lot of their front yard so Berta had a great spot to land right out front under the moss-covered trees. We parked her up, moved in – now sleeping in separate rooms! – and hung out in the house with the cats for the rest of the evening catching up. Even though we’d just seen them in Belgium, that seemed like an experience from another life, so we chatted till it was late.
Mustangs On Show
After a great rest, I got up and worked in the morning then joined the rest of the household for breakfast. After my 9am meeting, I was due for my Mustang driving lesson. Before we left, we got Dad set up with the pressure washer in the driveway so he could give Berta’s undercarriage a thorough wash from the salt. Of course by the time we got back he’d cleaned the whole van. Not quite up to par with the other blue cars in the driveway, but close!
Driving Nick’s pride and joy was something I’d so far managed to avoid but with two Mustangs to drive to a show in the afternoon, it was time for me to step up.
Nick was a great teacher and didn’t show an ounce of nerves as I handled his baby around the tight curves of Pebble Beach. It was a joy to drive a classic again and it made me miss my Mini.
We successfully picked up the credentials for that afternoon’s show then took the long way home along the beach. We stopped at one of the many seaside pullouts because there was a GT-350 parked up there. We soon met his owner, Bob and he told us that Car Week for him was all about making new friends and here he was doing just that.
With now two ‘stangs parked up next to each other, we drew a bit of a crowd, attracting a budding young photographer who asked to take photos and his Dad who wanted to know all about the volunteering once I told him about it. Of course I referred him to the volunteer website on which I have been made famous.
Back at base, Dad was putting the final touches on the Big Blue. He’d managed to find the ladder so even the solar panels were pristine. I squeezed a little more work in then me and the boys were off to the car show. Dad opted for the convertible experience so I followed the blue show car into Carmel, overjoyed to be trusted enough to drive solo in the silver car.
I did my best to drive around the squeaky brakes as we joined the queue of classics crawling into their positions along the main drag and who else should show up in the queue behind me but Bob!
After a lot of hand waving and shouting by people in vests, I parallel parked against a curb opposite to the blue car and was happy with my efforts. We set up camp (a few chairs and a cooler) by the blue car, then I had to run off to a useless meeting. I braved the ambient noise of a nearby park then retreated to the public library and got away as quickly as I could.
Back at camp, it was well past lunch time (Dad and I were adjusting to this!) so we wandered up the street a bit to the fish & chip shop recommended by Nick and Katy. The staff were stressed despite the very few patrons in their establishment so I endured a bit of yelling as I waited for our fried goodness. It wasn’t quite worth the wait and ambient stress, but I’ll never call fish and chips “bad”.
After a good sit down at camp it was time to wander the show. This was our type of show with cars of our era in bright colors and 1-meter paint jobs. It was the American muscle version of a typical coffee ’n’ cars.
On the way back through, Nick’s eagle eyes spotted a coffee and donuts sign for an indoor art gallery so we waltzed in, pretending to be interested in the art and came out with dessert. It wasn’t long after we’d finished that we started walking the short end of the show on the quiet side of the Mustangs and I saw a pair of boffins that looked like judges. Sure enough, they were and Nick got right in there to answer their questions about the two Fords.
Katy joined us just as we finished and she was disappointed to have missed the sustenance but Nick still had a few treats in his cooler. Nick and Katy took a tour of the show while Dad and I stuck it out at camp, soaking up the sunshine.
I was already seeing some familiar car week faces, like the presenters of the Classic Car Forum and Elegance judges. I pointed them all out to Dad and could feel the car-week vibes starting to kick in. This was the perfect kick-off event!
After the trophy presentations, the place cleared out quick. Nick had been hoping for the “longest distance traveled” award thanks to the Texas plates of the blue car but that accolade went to someone else and so we went home empty-handed.
We convoyed it back home, Dad with me this time and we could tell from the hand signals in front of us that Katy was having to give Nick directions. We did a quick recoup back at base, then we were off to Baja Cantina for dinner. I saw more people I recognized here and while we were initially disappointed to be seated inside, it was great to be sat around a plethora of automobile memorabilia. Fitting since the restaurant is near Laguna Seca.
We had some great food, shared a pitcher of margarita and while Dad enjoyed his first official day of Car Week he said it was a write off because he hadn’t seen any Minis.
After the margaritas, I was grateful not to be the one driving us home in the blue car.
Reporting for Duty
No more work for me! Dad and I were up early and enjoyed our bowls of Weet-a-bix dressed in our finest. Nick joined us with a cup of coffee and snapped a photo to commemorate this great occasion. I was volunteering with Daddy at car week! I could only hope this experience would be enough to pay him back for all those hours spent in the Supercheap carpark.
Our steed was the bright blue electric Jag (no shitboxes to be found in this neck of the woods) and we were soon gliding through the forest down to the Retro Auto Village.
We were parked up just before 9am and as usual, no one was there yet so we wandered down the avenue. With the Media Center set back from the main drag, it actually took us two laps to find the place. Not only was it semi-hidden, it was a quarter the size of previous years.
There were a few interns milling about inside the cramped quarters, one of which I recognized so I had a quick catch-up with her then we returned to our meandering. Unlike previous years, the tablecloths had already been installed so that was one less thing to keep us busy.
Sandi eventually found us and sat us down for our briefing. She was enamored with Dad and showered me with praise every chance she got. I was almost blushing. Not only did we get the token scarf and tie, we were issued two hats! The second was for wearing on the day of The Tour and what a token it was. It was the same hat issued to the vehicle owners so we felt very special.
After sorting out our vests, Sandi wished us a great week and as we said our thank-you, she told Dad that he’d raised an amazing daughter. As we walked away, I just said “shit for brains” and we both laughed.
Back at the media center, we were looking properly professional and Greg had arrived. A great guy, he’d recently gotten married so was glowing and happy to be back for another year. I was proud to introduce him to my Dad and he was happy to meet him. We met a new guy, Grant, who was young and seemed utterly unnecessary in his role but wanted to make sure everyone knew he was the big-wig and in charge. That gave us something to laugh about but he would loosen up by the end of the week.
To our station posted outside the media center then! We wandered up and down the avenue, watching the goings on. The work was hectic but controlled and as the morning rolled on, we started feeling stupid for turning media people away. For whatever reason, this year they weren’t going to be dishing out credentials until 1pm. Apparently no one got the message because the early birds kept streaming in.
By 12:45pm, there was a poxy hand-written sign posted on the door and a queue forming within the media center. We’d met our afternoon shift couple by then, a lovely pair by the names of Gary and Debbie. They were regular car week volunteers but having done crowd control on show day last year, they’d wanted a change of pace and this was it! I welcomed them to a much better gig.
Close to 1pm, an announcement was made over the PA system that in ten minutes, all power would be cut to the village. “I repeat, in ten minutes, all power will be cut to the village.” Dad and I just looked at each other in disbelief. I went in and told Greg who had formed a sweaty brow as impatient media folks crowded the front table. He almost didn’t believe me. I felt a little lame telling him it just came over the PA system and I didn’t know the source of the announcement. Sure enough, ten minutes later, the place shut down. And so we left!
We drove back to the house, happy with the entertainment value of our first day and looking forward to the afternoon’s activities with Nick. We met him at the house and after we enjoyed our packed lunch and changed into comfy clothes, the three of us piled into the blue ‘stang and drove back to Carmel for the Little Car Show. Dad couldn’t be disappointed with this one!
This is a clear favorite of mine and the same went for Dad. The weather was spot on and I think Nick enjoyed the change in vibe from yesterday not having a pair of show cars to babysit.
We stopped off in the art gallery for a second round of coffee and donuts and meandered through the baby cars. Of course the Minis had their own section and we admired them all.
Back at base, Nick and Katy cooked up burgers for a nice relaxed dinner followed by a sunset cruise down to the beach. With the warmth well and truly gone for the day, we rugged up for the open-top drive and wander along the beach. Predictably, there were plenty of nice cars driving by for us to watch but the sunset was also nice.
The Tour
We’d buggered up our parking last year thanks to a late start so we were up early this year. Leaving at 7am still didn’t work. Our Lot 12 pass didn’t get us anywhere and last year’s trick of parking at the Hay had been found out so we figured out Lot 8 was the place to be. It was a better place to start anyway because our short walk brought us out at the middle of the grid. The place was already thriving.
It was a lightly foggy morning and despite the initial chill during the drive down (in the convertible), it was warming up slightly.
We all enjoyed a long, slow walk amongst the cars of this year’s Concours d’Elegance. It doesn’t matter how many times I do this, it always feels so surreal to be this close to machinery of such stature.
There were no Jenson Buttons or Jacky Ickxs to be spotted this year and unlike previous tours down the grid, nothing really struck me as a favorite for the show winner.
That’s not to say the cars weren’t beautiful, but nothing could beat my boat-tail Rolls Royce from the last time out.
More than one owner asked me the Tour starting time (because I looked very official in my uniform) and I got disappointed shakes of the head when I told them it was 9:30am. Every year prior, the green flag was waved at 9am. More waiting around for these very important people.
As start-time neared, we positioned ourselves at the front of the grid to watch them all drive off and we were not disappointed.
Right as the grid girls wandered through the crowd with huge boards indicating that the gentlemen should start their engines, we got to watch a pair of mechanics hand crank a 1920s era Mercedes, making it shake into life. It looked like the mechanic was coaching the owner on how to drive the bloody thing which was a shame.
We watched the first half of the field depart and they all got away ok.
Needing to report for duty, I did a quick run over the road to show my face and pick up our clipboards, then I was straight back to join Dad and Nick again.
Nick had wandered down towards the back of the field, but Dad and I stayed upfront. Dad, despite his lack of experience, insisted that there were no more cars left to run. Wrong again. Twenty minutes after the first wave, the rest of the field came through.
I felt sorry for them, there wasn’t nearly as much fanfare, everyone else was on the same page as Dad. The main show was over and so people had taken themselves and their cameras elsewhere.
I was glad we’d stuck around because there were a few stragglers that had joined the back of the field after we’d walked the grid so we saw the wedge cars on the RetroAuto poster for the first time. If “car” is what you could call them.
Thoroughly happy with our tour experience, we trundled over to the village to take up our positions. Who knows where all the tour-goers dispersed to. I’m sure everyone was looking for a coffee and some breakfast at the same time.
The media center was busy and as usual, we were not. It was a great day to be in the village. I was seeing a lot of familiar faces now, including the Jumper Media guys and the Porsche Club volunteers who roam the alleyway with about as much to do as us. The organizers had upped their game this year with more signage and free maps so there were less questions for us.
When we took our turns wandering the paddock, I was disappointed to find that Rivian weren’t handing out t-shirts but as a consolation, they had their new prototype car on display and I decided right then that I’ll be owning one in the future. I promptly signed us up for a test drive of the truck the next day after our shift.
We sat in on one of the forums which were not very popular this year because you had to buy a ticket to get in. Silly idea because it meant they had a mostly empty room which doesn’t look good on tv. It was interesting to hear Carroll Shelby’s grandson talk about the Shelby company and its endeavors, but he is someone living in the shadow of his family’s legacy.
Near lunch time, we had the pleasure of watching the owners of tour vehicles wander up the aisle towards Mercedes for their lunch.
Again, thanks to signage, we were not as engaged since nobody needed direction.
When our afternoon shift took over, we wandered out to the road behind the parking lots for a pick-up but traffic control meant Dave and Nick had been redirected elsewhere. After a bit of forest-trotting, we found our boys at the Hay in the blue car. Having not seen Dave in a while I gave him a big hug then settled in the back seat with Dad.
Back at the house, we said hi to Andrea and scoffed our lunch before heading out in the two Mustangs to the Mecum auction. With my new credentials, I drove the silver car and got to catch up with Andrea on the short drive over.
I was happy to swap fog for sun and as soon as we entered the gates, we were in stroll-mode, wandering through the lines of vehicles.
Thinking we had plenty of time to make it to the auction tent, we wandered around and made it to our favorite bar to get a round of drinks. Margaritas for everyone!
It was about then we realized we’d missed the auction. Right as we walked through the tent, we heard the announcer wrapping things up. Bugger! It was a crying shame Dad didn’t even get to see one car go under the hammer and see the well-oiled machine that is Mecum.
The consolation is that we could walk along the auction ramp and see the podium up close. In doing so, we noticed a racing helmet on display and found upon closer inspection that it belonged to Charles Leclerc! When the Mecum team came by to stow it away, they saw our interest and let us hold it. It must have weighed less than a kilogram. Fascinating.
Drinks in hand, we all separated as we wandered but I stuck close to Dad so we could share the experience.
I was shopping for a short wheel base 4WD while Dad was looking for a low-to-the-ground fast car. The various McLaren supercars didn’t disappoint in that department. Of course Dave was ever in love with his Mustangs and Cobras.
As we moved outside and over towards the “graveyard” where cars had been passed in, we saw the cheapest thing that had been on the docket – a nice checker plate trailer and we were disappointed to find that it had been sold!
The advance team in Dave, Andrea, Katy and Nick made their way out of the auction as we were still ogling at Broncos and price tags but we weren’t far behind them. It was just so nice to be out in the sun, the cars looked simply spectacular in their bright colors.
We found our way home in the silver car from memory since my phone was dead and Dad hadn’t brought his. I was getting better every time but I know that if I’d taken a wrong turn we’d probably still be driving around the maze that is Pebble Beach.
At home, we changed into some warmer clothes then hopped into a maxi-Uber for a trip into Carmel for dinner. Katy, as always, had booked our week with dining options and had picked an Italian restaurant that was new for everyone and that, of course, had tiramisu on the menu. It was a gorgeous little spot that was tucked into the old living room of a mansion and sitting by the window meant we could see the car candy drive by.
We wandered the streets a bit after dinner to soak up the atmosphere that only happens during car week. It’s got a high school vibe with people crammed into exotic cars (which may or may not have been rentals) to simple cruise up and down to be seen.
After picking up some tiramisu fudge, the Concours team perched up on a wall at a 4-way intersection to watch the cars go by as we waited for our return Uber. We were those teenagers whose older siblings were driving the cars, swinging our legs back and forth on the wall, dreaming of when it would be our time to do the cruising.
At the curb, we ran into Grant from the media center. He was still in uniform and I asked what in the world he was still doing on duty. Seems like he’d managed to get himself into an elite circle of people for the afternoon and evening and was pretty happy about it. I was happy to have just gotten a smile out of him. I wished him a good night and we were swept away in our Uber. It was the same guy who’d brought us into Carmel for dinner! It’s such a small town.
The Gooding Auction
Every car week, things change and we do something new. Having the Mustangs in the show on Tuesday was a good example but I was really excited for today because it would be our first time attending the fancy-face auction of stupid-money cars. I didn’t even mind the $50/head ticket price. With no morning activities, us volunteers slept in until 8am and didn’t see anyone else in the house, except the cats.
We had an easy day at the office, with much more people-watching to do since this was the first real day the general public came in to Pebble. We wandered up and down, stood a little, sat a little, hid in the lunch area a little.
My favorite people that we ran into were Andrew and Maryanne of the Porsche club. We had a lot of fun throughout the day talking cars and Dad was right into it. What a pleasure it was to be the one to inform them of their fame alongside me at the top of the official volunteers website! I’d only found out by accident last so it made sense they didn’t know.
When Gary and Debbie arrived, exasperated as always with the parking situation, we were ready to go. We’d had a quick bite of our lunch so we were ready to make a quick exit towards the Rivian booth. The place was teeming with people but after checking in with a lovely guy, he was soon leading us away from the crowd and towards a pristine white Rivian truck.
Since the host had to sit up front, Dad was relegated to the back seat as I took the wheel of the electric machine, backed us out of the dirt lot and whipped onto the road. Our guide was a lovely fellow who didn’t try to sell us a car but told us all about the features we were interested in and didn’t ask any questions when I came to a full stop in the middle of the road then pinned it. It wasn’t Tesla Plaid level, but it was pretty damn good!
We took a tour down to the ocean where I behaved myself and paid more attention to how the truck drove. The regen was amazing. Even on the lightest setting, you’d easily come to a stop without touching the brakes.
I’d read the room and figured it was ok to push the limits a little so gave it a boot as I turned left at an intersection. I had the host holding on to his Jesus-bar and laughing and I hope Dad was impressed. I was happy just to have gotten the tires squealing a little and the host thanked me for the best drive he’d had all week. Woo hoo!
It was all over in twenty minutes and while Dad had the offer of a drive, he declined. With it being a left-hand-drive and all that, but the back seat experience had been a good one.
Now to free drinks! I’d found out earlier in the week that Mercedes were disappointingly NOT putting on the booze this year but thankfully Infiniti had picked up the slack. With the Infiniti booth stationed across the way from the media center, we’d done some scouting yesterday and discovered that yes, booze was being served from noon every day and yes, it was free.
We’d barely sat ourselves down with a pair of cold ones when our team arrived. Nick, Katy, Andrea and Dave had enjoyed a leisurely morning and were in party mode. It was drinks all round and while they took turns wandering the village, we enjoyed some much-needed sit down time.
Of course, we got to bantering with the Infinity guys and found out that ice creams were also on the free menu! Well, thanks very much! I tried not to look over at the media center where Gary and Debbie were taking their job way too seriously and standing by the door in full view of us idiots all having a great time.
After a second round, the team went for a second wander through the village while we decided it was time to head over to Gooding to catch the start of that day’s auction. On Grant’s advice, we said we were volunteers interested in having a look inside and wristbands were practically thrown at us! Well, now we had $100 to spend!
After a quick wander through, we found the Mini Moke from the catalogue. While the paint job wasn’t as impressive as ours, it had heritage in being one of only four Mokes branded for a Beach Boys album promotion and given away in a radio station competition a few decades ago.
We did a little more wandering but our leggies were sore and we were scared of not getting a seat for the start of the bidding so sat in the back rows of seats. People were slowly filing in, but everything up front was empty. Bugger it, there were no signs telling us not to so we perched ourselves right in the middle of the front row. No shame.
The team joined us just after Mr. Gooding had introduced his 20-year auctioneer partner and got things going. It was a well oiled machine this and while it didn’t have the fanfare of the Mecum auction, you could sense the elitism in the room.
Every car was driven up onto the ramp then quickly turned off so as not to fill the tent with exhaust fumes. The drivers were clearly trained to be invisible, keeping their eyes looking straight ahead with not an itch of the nose to be seen. I could just hear Nicholas Cage’s voice in my head. “You are the car, the car is you.” Even when the cars were pushed away by white-gloved team members, the driver’s eyes were looking dead ahead.
We got kicked out right as a Cobra came up. An organizer had walked past the front row a couple of times and I think it was me that gave her pause. I was still wearing my volunteers vest and probably just had that sneaky look about me. Shame, because with Nick and Dave wearing the tour hats, they could have passed as owners.
I dipped out to get Dad and I the rest of our lunch we hadn’t had time to eat earlier, then settled in with the team still towards the front of the room. It was standing room only by the time the “big one” drove up onto the ramp.
The 1930s Alfa Romeo had terribly cracked paint and left a large oil stain where it had been parked but it went for $12.75 million. I’m sure it will be on the Concours field with a full restoration in the next few years.
Nick and Katy departed then while the rest of us took some more time to wander. The sold cars were being neatly lined up for their new owners and the tent was looking remarkably empty already.
We piled into the Jag to drive home, struggling to fit in all of our swag. It had been a fruitful day with bags of popcorn, multiple car posters, Infinity parasols and Lincoln water bottles but not a single t-shirt!
We had a relaxing hour with a drink at home before heading into Monterey for an 8:30pm dinner. While waiting for our table, we could hear the goings on of a party next door so Dad and I wandered over for a look. Drinks in hand, it wasn’t hard to waltz in and I felt sorry for the poor people that had paid or been invited to be at this exclusive Porsche party. Everyone was shoulder to shoulder and while the booze and food were free, there was no room to dance to the DJ and poorly-dressed plebs like us could just sneak in!
We sat outside under a beautiful vine listening to the Porsche party next door and had another delicious meal. While waiting for our Uber home, Dave wanted to test the sneakery and though a couple of security guards had been posted at this point, they still didn’t give us a second look as we walked through the party. It was beneath Dave, it was Porsche after all.
As we finished our night with more car-watching from the curb, we realized just how deep Nick’s dislike of Porsches really goes.
The Track
We saw Nick and Dave briefly in the morning as they had to be out of the house before us for their volunteer orientation. We had our hottest day ever of volunteering. I think for the first time in my Concours volunteering career, I can say that the sun was fully out! This time we had nearly had parking issues finding that the lot was filling up quick and it was only 9am.
The village was packed but again, there wasn’t much for us to do. We tried to keep in the shade wherever possible and by mid-morning our vests were unzipped. Professionalism was definitely slipping.
There was a line out the door for the forum that was supposed to feature Jerry Seinfeld but for the second time in three years, he didn’t show up. Too bad if you’d paid $100 to see the guy.
We had a great time with friends with more people from the Porsche club joining the party. Mike and Lee loved chatting with Dad and as soon as Dad put Lee onto the free stuff, she was gone. A kindred spirit. A photographer coming out of the media center saw us all having a good time and we got together for a photo. That’ll probably be on the Concours website by next year.
As our last morning came to an end, I nearly had to wrestle with Greg to get our show tickets, but I happily gave up the parking pass. It hadn’t been any use to us and I wasn’t going to try and play any games. It was ridiculous that they keep asking us back when all we do is hang around a door and chat with people.
Our tickets were presented to us in beautiful Pebble Beach branded cases and there were even more poster vouchers so we left with even more swag! I hugged Greg goodbye and promised to see him again next year and did the same with our afternoon shift. We couldn’t get out of there and get our hot vests off fast enough.
As we crossed the carpark to the bright yellow Camaro, we couldn’t resist stopping to get a photo of some Porsches to send to Nick, then we were on our way to the track. We had a quick stop at home to get into comfy clothes then we were gone, seeing Katy briefly on our way out.
Dad ate in the car on the way there so we were track-ready by the time we got our Colin Edwards park right by the bridge over the main straight. I was glad we’d been here last weekend because it meant we didn’t have to try and see everything today.
The boys were stationed at turn 5 so we slowly made our way there, lingering at turn 3 to watch some racing action, then heading over the bridge and to the infield to walk through the various vendor tents.
It ended up taking us a while to get to the rest of our team because there were tractors and vans to look at!
With more racing action happening on track as we crossed over a second time to get to the turn 5 grandstand, we stopped to watch a while then made it over to Dave and Nick. They couldn’t have looked more at home, lounged out on the aluminum rungs called seats. It was clear this had been their position most of the day and they were loving it.
The boys were happy to receive some left over food from us and they’d done better than last year with their beer supplies with still a couple of cold ones left in their pack. They’d been trackside all day and Nick was clearly in a brilliant mood. He’d said that he hadn’t been feeling the best for the week so far and this is just what he’d needed to boost him back up. Track therapy.
The best race was the finale with Minis and Alfas tearing it up. There were two minis going hell for leather for the lead and the Kiwi driver got him on the last lap. It was a shame the TV tower wasn’t working, but we made do with the excited commentary and seeing them come around on the cool-down lap waving. Brilliant stuff.
We did a slow wander through the pits and our tired legs were grateful for our amazing parking job. On the way home, Dad and I stopped at a supermarket to get enough beer to stack Nick and Katy’s fridge for a year, then we were home for the night. Wow Katy had put on a spread!
The team sat outside nibbling on the delicious bites that Katy had put together. We were full of excitement for the experiences we’d already shared and equally amped for the final day tomorrow. When the mist turned into a heavy fog, we retreated inside for car Christmas.
At my first Concours, I learned that no matter what racing events I went to, I had to get one XL and one L shirt for my buddies. The Pike’s Peak Hill Climb and Bonneville Speed Week were perfect examples and so I dished it all out. There were hats and shirts galore and I think everyone was happy with their new swag and it made me happy to be the provider.
Dad and I retired pretty early feeling exhausted by our multiple days of standing but not before we all got our tickets and wristbands out for inspection. Dad was tickled pink, holding up his wristband on his finger, stating that it would look nice on his…. “WILLY!” Nick finished his sentence for him when Dad couldn’t find the right words to explain his office display of memorabilia. It was the perfect comedy to wrap up the night, it had us all in fits.
Concours d’Elegance
Our butts were in the seats of the Jag at 5:15am. After half a week wearing a skirt that kept my thighs pressed together, I was happy to be in comfy clothes and Nick and Dave looked wonderful in their volunteering garb. Katy, as usual, delivered an excellent performance to get us past the first road block near the village and we all ignored the shouting by officials when she stopped at the top of the hill near the Hay to let us out. “NO DROP OFFS! KEEP MOVING!” But these shouts were coming from afar and there was no traffic about so we paid no mind.
Armed with our chairs, we descended towards the concept green to the entrance gates. I was happy we were experienced because there’d be no way to find your way if you hadn’t been before. We got to the end of the very short queue right as the gates opened so our timing had been perfect. Inside, we got our camp set up, ditched our backpack, then started mingling with the crowd by the Haggerty coffee and doughnut stands.
Keeping to my usual strategy of standing near the edge of the crowd to see the hat-givers coming, we found the same guys we met the last couple of years. They are field volunteers who have the last 15-years worth of dawn patrol hats and it was great to catch up with them. I was confident then. As long as I had them in my sights, I’d know where the hats would be.
Nick and Dad wandered off for coffee shortly afterwards and that was when Dave and I saw the hats. We got our two, asking very politely as usual, then backed away. When I saw a media guy we’d met in the village, I said hi and then he was putting another hat in my hand. He’d mentioned it was going to be one of his responsibilities this year and now that he was here, he seemed nervous. Rightly so. Some of the tradition has been lost. I remember my first year, you couldn’t just take a hat, you had to ask nicely, almost as if there was a password you had to know. I think those days might be gone. As word of the hats’ arrival spread, the poor hander-outer-ers were mobbed and I saw a guy with a bag fast-walking and tossing the hats over his shoulder as the pack chased him. That’s not what this is supposed to be about.
Anyway, with hats in hand, we could relax and line up along the staked-out roadway for the arrival of the cars. We must have looked pretty good because a lady with a pair of cameras following her asked if she could interview us about our Dawn Patrol experience. We each had a turn on the mic and while she was going on about the hats, I reminded her (and the world) that this was about the cars. Dad explained that he’d come all the way from Australia, just for this. We were disappointed to find out later that we’d been cut from the final edit.
The patrol was brilliant, as always. There was a light fog that retreated to the clouds as soon as light came into the day and the cars looked pristine. I have a feeling that my favorite car hadn’t been on the tour because there were some beautiful examples of the automobile that I was sure I was seeing for the first time.
Nick and Dave were soon off to register for their day of “work” but Dad and I stayed until the end of the patrol then started walking the field. It didn’t take long for the team to be back together again and we walked slowly, taking it all in.
When I found a brown Lamborghini with the name Devon McNeal, I pointed it out to Dave and asked if there was a relation to the WeatherTech big-wig Dave McNeal. He pondered and figured it was probably his daughter and who should then show up nearby but the man himself? Having complained about the broken TVs at Laguna and the terrible lack of a screen up at the corkscrew, Dave was off. The two had met before but Dave Day didn’t waste time with introductions. I had to shush Nick as I walked behind the two men as Dave Day spoke his mind, mentioning that it was Dave McNeal’s huge WeatherTech sign that happened to sit right above the TVs that hadn’t been working at his racetrack all weekend. Brilliant.
We made it all the way down to the 17th green for the special showing of the Queen’s vehicles, then it was time for the volunteers to head to their stations. Happily, the merchandise tent had returned to the field and so Nick was able to grab his t-shirt before reporting for duty. Bye-bye boys.
Back at camp, we discovered there wasn’t a whole lot of action around us but everyone was crowding themselves into the “D” right below the stage. I didn’t get it! Not only would they all be sitting behind the media pen, they’d have to constantly turn their heads to see the procession of cars. We had it made.
The boys hadn’t brought us back any breakfast during their check-in so we wandered outside the gates to get us some sustenance. We packed a pair of warm burritos and some fruit into our bag and couldn’t get back to camp fast enough. We’d been up and walking around for over five hours!
Now, it was time for one of my favorite parts of the Concours day. Sitting back and reading the program while watching the crowds pile in. As I chowed into my breakfast, I was in heaven and grateful for a relatively warm day.
When Nick joined us at 10am asking when his lunch would be ready, I gave him shit for the lack of breakfast sandwich he’d provided to us, but Dad and I dutifully went to get lunch for our mates. Another part of car week we were striving to be better at, after Dave went lunches last year because the caterers ran out, we had everyone’s lunch vouchers and planned to go early to get everyone some grub. It meant the boys didn’t have to walk as far and meant they could have a comfy chair to sit in while they ate.
Dad and I did another lap of the show field, now having to meander through people as well as the cars and we did a lot of pausing to watch judging happen.
The whole field just buzzes with activity the whole day long. There is always something happening and something new to see, whether it’s to do with the cars or the people.
We ventured outside the gates for a second time and did a tour of the concept green and the Ferrari lawn. The sun was properly out now and we were grateful for it. Not only had we had the best weather in eight years at Bonneville, but now Dad was getting the best of it for his first Concours experience.
The Ferrari lawn was well spread out and the casa going off with VIPs enjoying their exclusivity.
The concept lawn had the typical bright colors and freshly stitched leather. Nothing much there that made us go “oooh”, “aahhh” but the people dressed in their fancy suits came close.
Lunch next and we collected big for everyone. There must have been grumblings about people going hungry last year because they were counting the lunch vouchers this time and rightly so. With our backpack full, we made our way back to camp.
Nick was there in a flash and I sat on the ground, to give him an opportunity to sit down. The boys really have it hard having to stand all day and look at the opposite side of a hallway. At least we had a good view and people to banter with. All they seem to do at their post is send people away and move people along.
Dave came out for his lunch around noon and was also very happy to have some sit down time. He was ready for his post-confetti beer already.
Not long after Dave left, it was 1pm and time for the awards. It had come around so quickly and I was over the moon that they’d listened to my feedback in last year’s survey to put in more speakers so we could hear the announcer. There was a speaker tower no more than 10 meters from us so for the first time, I wasn’t hunting through my car guide to know who was getting best in class.
As the processions got going, I marked the winners down in my car guide as usual and it was such a pleasure to see these great automobiles in motion again.
There were some surprises amongst the classes and none of our picks for best in show won their class. A few made it onto the podium but that was about it. We must be poor judges of quality.
The brightest colored cars took my breath away but it was the people driving them that provided the most animation.
It didn’t matter if they were a full-time rich-man with an investment on wheels, or a true motoring enthusiast, driving up and over the ramp brought out an excitement that you don’t get to see anywhere else.
When the first round of awards was done, we wandered over to the winner’s circle to get another look at the best of show picks.
This was also the time that judges were walking through to make their nominations.
Nervous owners were abounds with hands in pockets but the polishing cloths had mostly been put away. There was nothing they could do now.
Back at camp, our afternoon shift volunteer buddies had parked up next to us! We’d mentioned this was the spot we camped and they’d just happened to find it. They’d come in later having to navigate the shuttle system, but they seemed to be enjoying themselves.
We sat down to relax pre-confetti and I did some more program reading but it didn’t take long to get restless. People were already staging themselves at the end of the ramp so we moved to get a good view.
It had been fun to watch the crowd control happen here last year and this year they were taking it even more seriously. After getting kicked out from in front of the stairs of a VIP suite, we found a good spot standing behind a pot plant and stayed put until the top three were announced and brought up to the bottom of the ramp.
Once again, none of our picks had made it in. I was messaging Nick to see if they had a good view and it seemed things weren’t going to plan for them because the winning announcement had been delayed. Their post-confetti beers were in jeopardy.
After much anticipation and a long drum-roll, the winner was announced and a beautiful unrestored open-wheeler was driven up onto the ramp to the bang of confetti guns.
This was a happy story. The presentation had been delayed because Fritz, the owner of the Sweden-based car, had been sending off his family. They hadn’t won, it had been a long day, they’d been ready to go home. There’d been a call over the PA for him to return to his vehicle and it had taken a while to find the man.
He couldn’t have been a more deserving winner. It was obvious he was a car enthusiast and he drove this car because he enjoyed it. Instead of a team, it was a family-obsession thing with one hired mechanic who proudly knelt down to kiss the car that had just taken the ultimate prize.
It was the first time in Concours history that a car from the preservation class had taken top honors and the first time a car from overseas had won the title. It made me feel sorry for the hard-working restorers who’d spent years laboring over specs of paint and sourcing period-accurate door handles for their vehicles.
We moved onto the ramp as soon as we were allowed and soaked up the atmosphere. This automobile’s value had just sky rocketed and here we were, allowed to walk right up and touch it!
Dave and Nick soon joined us and they were not happy. The bar had been closed, there was no froth on their lips. This was their eighth year being stationed outside the Bentley suite and this was the last straw. The hallway loitering and standing had always been worth it for their proximity to the confetti and the ice cold beer at the end of the day. Without that, it was just a very long, exhausting day.
Using one of the celebratory champagne bottles as a tripod, I got a team photo of us at the ramp, then we started our traditional slow wander through the field. If we’d managed the photo a minute sooner, we’d have been able to walk away with the champagne bottle but as I retrieved my phone, it was picked up by a bartender. They were onto thirsty people like us.
Another favorite part of my day, this was the wind down. It’s amazing how quickly the field clears out. It’s a long day for a lot of people and so they’re ready to put their cars back in their homes and reflect.
I had a new mission but when I snuck behind a closed bar in search of beers, all I found was wine and soda. They really were onto us!
By the time we we were wandering back towards camp, the best in show car was parked up by the ocean and still, the owner was so animated. Rightly so. He’d just won Concours d’Elegance.
Wrapping up our day on the field, the boys helped us pack up camp and we started the trek up the hill towards the Hay. The chairs were heavy but I didn’t mind. The comfort had been well worth it.
Our timing was perfect. The girls got to the Hay not a minute after us and we were sat at our usual table with a view out towards the ocean and the practice golf course.
The beers couldn’t come soon enough and the dinner that followed was sublime. We were happy to present Katy with her own Dawn Patrol hat having walked away with an extra and it was well deserved. She was the most crucial part of the early morning team.
As the sun set, we shared our highlights of the week which ranged from the auction, the tour, the racing at the track, the community in the village, but predictably, the good times we’d shared as friends.
The reminiscing continued at home as we relaxed in the living room with the cats, sharing our experiences of the day and the week. We were already looking forward to and scheming about next year.
August 11 – 18, 2024