Central Valley Classic Cars

I’m going to buy an Aston Martin hat.

Not because I love Astons so much that I feel the need to proclaim it to the world with overpriced merchandise (though I do.) But because last weekend, Ferrari upset me and I want to show my angst in the same way a child does when he/she holds his/her breath in protest (and just as pointlessly).

Every year, friends and members of my family come together at Laguna Seca Raceway, just outside Monterey, to watch the most amazing collection of vintage racers the world has ever known. It all goes down in the middle of August during Monterey’s ‘Car Week’ which features the Pebble Beach Concours d’Elegance as well as other world renowned car shows. Its on most car magazines lists of things to see before you die. But being in our back yard, geographically speaking, we’ve been going every year for almost 10 years.

Before the official shindig week starts the entrants to the Historic Races are given the opportunity to take some practice laps at the feared track of Laguna Seca. It’s something I’ve been privileged to attend, with the help of a photographer I know, for a number of years. We’ve even had lunch with some of the drivers and owners, meeting them at the BBQ stand in the middle of the paddock and, having gotten to know them, rooted for them when their race began.

That was before this year. Before the dark times. Before Ferrari.

I can’t blame them for wanting to get in on the inordinate amount of money and car aficionados in the area during this week, but I can and will blame them for what they did to the practice races.

Somehow Ferrari secured the racetrack for the same weekend as the practice sessions for one of their Ferrari Challenge events. This is a ‘fun-day’ for wealthier Ferrari fans to get some track time in cars ranging from F430’s to old Formula gear. So instead of getting to walk the paddock and see the greatest cars of all time, we were restricted to the sidelines and got to shake our fists at what you could either call brave or ham fisted (probably ham fisted from holding all those bags of money) amatures (depending on your disposition) tossing their (and occasionally breaking their) rented prancing ponies all over the track.

Don’t get me wrong, if given the chance I’d join them and let other people shake their fists at me. But I haven’t been given that chance, so I want to hold my breath. I mean buy a hat.

I witnessed more contact in one hour of those 430’s going around than I’ve seen in almost a decade of watching the Historic’s. And . . . wait. Is that a bad thing? Seeing Ferrari’s bounce off each other? Actually it was pretty cool.

Don’t read that last part. I’m supposed to be ranting.

Maybe instead of an Aston hat I should find a McLaren-Mercedes hat. But I don’t like Mercedes (it’s tough being opinionated). Now that I think about it, maybe I shouldn’t spend my money on a hat, but save it for my next car. And just to stick it to Maranello, I won’t buy a Ferrari. Yeah, that’ll show em.