Network
“You should go to this month’s Barrett-Jackson. It’s in Orange County, it’s super close,” the boss urged. It was less of a suggestion than a gentle command.
The calm before the storm. Seats with notes attached to the backrests were marked as "reserved," while the rest were open to potential buyers willing to put their hard-earned duckets out on the line.
Big dollar auctions have become kind of dangerous territory, I thought to myself.
Every time we publish anything from one of these events, my inbox gets swamped with angry, spittle-smeared emails ranking the people who operate these auctions as being somewhere between a Saturday morning cartoon villain and the Emperor from Star Wars.
“I don’t know,” I downplayed, trying to back out.
“Readers are pretty ‘anti-auction’ these days. Most relate them to the house-flippers from a couple years back, artificially raising property values until purchasing a home in a desirable area bordered on impossible. The same principal goes for classic cars. Heck, I even wrote an editorial about it a while back…”
“Yeah, I read it. You still should go,” he leaned. “You’ll have fun. Quit complaining.”
The boss was right; I should go, and I knew I’d have a good time.
But the challenge was how to cover the event.
Auction reports are usually a drag and a big reminder of either 1) how broke you (and I) are, 2) how your (and my) car isn’t anywhere as nice as the ones crossing the podium, and/or 3) how insanely jealous you (well, mainly I) can be.
The interior is where we spend most of our time. Not beneath the hood, outside waxing the paint or polishing the chrome. It's behind the wheel. Whether you're piloting this '29 Fiat-Gipsy race car, a beach-ready Woody, a Lincoln Premiere Continental, or this '70 Monte Carlo, the cabin's got to feel right for the car to be right.
They say the days of bold graphics and brandishing cubic inch sizes and horsepower numbers are long gone. I disagree. While yesterday's badges advertise performance, luxury and a mixture of the two, it's the complex curves, the intricate craftsmanship that speak louder than 3-inch exhaust tips and Xenon headlights.
When it comes to vilified car auctions, there is one who stands head and shoulders above the rest: Barrett-Jackson.
It’s not that Barrett-Jackson is in anyway, shape or form evil, it’s that Barrett-Jackson is the most well known and is synonymous with hosting some of the nicest and rarest cars in the industry. And to those who wish the industry to have remained a grassroots hobby, Barrett-Jackson is the easiest target.
Not the first-to-the-back-of-your-head torque monster that was the GSX, this GS 455 still touted the stump-pulling 455cui big block with Ram Air. And that's nothing to sneer at.
What people seem to forget about is how auctions like these help the industry.
A while back, a ridiculously rare ’71 HEMI 4-speed Plymouth ‘Cuda convertible sold for $2 million dollars.
When that happened, every auction house, eBay and damned-near everywhere else was flooded with HEMI-powered clones.
This encouraged a push in aftermarket replacement parts for Mopars, and in turn provided us grassroots Mopar enthusiasts cheaper parts to buy.
It’s Supply vs. Demand in action. Congratulations, high school economics finally paid off.
Anyways, rather than yet another formulaic play-by-play of the three-day auction at the Orange County Fair Grounds in Costa Mesa, CA., I wanted to show the “art” that makes these awesomely unique and beautiful machines worth all the money they’re pulling in.
It’s a degree of craftsmanship that appears to be wholly lacking in today’s cars. As robotic arms and CNC machines replace hand-turned screws and hand-milled brackets, we seem to be loosing a little bit of the soul in today’s cars that is so rich in yesterday’s iron.
It’s all in the details they say, so that’s what I focused on. The details. Enjoy!
Beneath the hood reveals what kind of car you drive; it also reveals what kind of 'car guy' you might be. Are you a hardcore purist who must have your LS6 454 factory stock? How about a street-cruisin' hot rodder looking to eke out as much horsepower as your Flathead Ford can crank out? Heavily modded or numbers matching, there's plenty of room for all types and tastes.
Every car gets its 15 minutes of fame. Well, not that long, but it sure seemed like it when this '77 Trans Am barely caught the attention of bidders. It was sad too, given the prisitne condition this F-Body was in.
