Vic Socotra

17 August 2009

Concours d’Elegance

(1930 Isotta Fraschini Tipo 8A Cabriolet. Photo by Jim Mueller)

Time for a vacation. I got a wonderful note from a pal who did things right this morning and it made me more than a little bit wistful.

He kept the house he bought in Carmel, on the Monterey Peninsula, when he was at Naval Postgraduate School. He is semi-retired in a modest but paid-for place on the 17-Mile Drive, and he went to the Concours d’Elegance at the Lodge at Pebble Beach over the weekend.

You can look it up, but this is the greatest car event in the world, if you like strolling and staring. Jay Leno was there to show one of his cars. First conducted in 1950, the Concours, for my money, is the world’s premier celebration of the automobile. Only the most beautiful and rare automobiles are invited to appear on the famed eighteenth fairway of Pebble Beach Golf Links each year, and connoisseurs of art and technology congregate to see them.

My pal sent photos of the magnificent autos parked on the greensward backed by the splendid view of Deepwater Bay.

I have been a car guy all my life. It came with life in Detroit and a Dad in the auto business in the go-go 1950s.

I am going to grab next weekend and I am headed up to Indiana this coming weekend for an AMC Rambler Rally, which shares a whiff of the same Monterey motor madness, only decidedly low rent, with the lovingly restored cars displayed in front of falling-down barns and double-wide trailers.

Dad is honored annually for being the last living member of the design team who did the Rambler line in the 1950s.

Sadly, this will be his last year. He is not running on all cylinders these days, and spends a lot of time looking off into the middle distance at autos only he can see with clarity.

That naturally has caused some contemplation about the health care reform initiative. This is highly emotional for all of us, and the more so for the aging portion of the population who need additional attention, and from whom the “savings” are supposed to come.

It is so emotional that the subject didn’t come up. Jiggs is going in for the surgical procedure tomorrow, and to take his mind off it, we went out in his new Mustang with the top down and spent a pleasant afternoon exercising our Second Amendment rights at an open-air shooting range in Opal, VA.

Man, a .45 pistol really packs a wallop. I didn’t hit much, but fifty rounds and loading that fat brass into the clips left my hands grimy and ripped a hole in the skin of my left thumb.

The pool was inviting when we got back, but I got involved in the internal intricacy of the Model 1911 A-1 pistol and was late getting down to take a refreshing swim. Mandy and her Mom, Peppermint Patty were the only ones still down on the deck.

Peppermint is headed back down South today, and is still recuperating from the consequences of a surgical intervention a few months ago. Doc was in the pool, talking with great animation to two men, one of whom is a new resident.

007 and his pal Bruno were very interested in what is going on. For clarity, I should point out that 007 is neither On Her Majesty's clandestine service nor "working for the State Department" here in DC. Actually, he is the seventh of eight children born to Missionary parents who grew up all over.

Bruno is a walk-on player at Big Pink, according to him, which is too bad. He is dark and handsome, and it is a pity we will not be seeing much of him in the future.

Of course, his name is closely related to the latest film by Sacha Baron Cohen about a flamboyantly gay Austrian fashion reporter- which led to an animated discussion by Peppermint and her daughter about the number of gay people moving into the building.

Something is going on. I am not sure what it is, but I am getting the feel that Big Pink might be on the verge of becoming fashionable, just like DUMBO- the Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass neighborhood in New York City, or the South Beach area of Miami.

Wouldn’t that be something!

007 said he had been living in an efficiency apartment for years, and he feared that he would never be able to find something decent. He has looked all over for other places to live. His opinion is that Big Pink is wildly undervalued for the amenities it offers- a five acre campus, cool pool, tennis courts, and plenty of free parking- and he jumped at the chance to buy a one-bedroom unit that was recently vacated by a long-time Big Pinker who has transitioned to assisted living.

Mandy is a little sad that most of the eligible men moving in are not available. "Isn't that the way it works?" she said. “Either married or not interested.”

I coughed gently and mentioned that there were plenty of dashing single men around, they just happened to be older than dirt, like myself.

She considered the idea, pursed her lips, and then laughed.

This is all very strange- I am sure there were plenty of gay people in the military when I was in, and have talked to a pal who could not come out until after she retired. It was a horrible situation. But the way of things was that it was a topic off-limits for discussion under the "don't ask, don't tell" policy. It was not quite the worst of all worlds, but she had to keep her lives distinctly separate, and it was painful each day.

People are so cheerfully out in this very Blue County that it is quite disconcerting. I am not sure if Big Pink is becoming a fashionable Mecca for the young and hip, or whether society is just being more open about what has always been going on.

I won't hazard a guess on who is, or who is not. It is none of my business.

I am going to guess that we are affordable, hip in a down-at-the-heels manner, and may be on the verge of turning into a cool destination for discount living in the safe close-in comfort to the District.

I don't know. If it means that the real estate market improves and I wind up less deep in the hole on the property I own, it is good enough for me.

Who would have thought we would wind up like DUMBO? I can almost hear the pulsing salsa beat and the roar of a 1930 Isotta Fraschini Tipo 8A Cabriolet as classic autos roll up to be displayed in front of the building, and the fashionable stroll along the parking lot with champagne glasses in hand.

I am not done with the health care debate any more than you are, but we can take a vacation today.

I think that on a Code Orange day in DC, we can wait and sweat that tomorrow.

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