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For the last few years I've been able to sneak out to Arizona in the dead of winter to visit with my son Rob and his family and run an Autocross with the Arizona Region of PCA in Phoenix. We run the Silver Fox, his '87 Carrera that I ran here in New England with great success back in 2001 and 2002 when he was overseas. This year my number really came up because we had planned a ride on a couple of rice burner sport bikes and the Barrett-Jackson auction was scheduled for the same week. Rob had purchased a Honda CBR600RR and I was going to ride some 'good times roll' rocket that a friend of his owned. We also wedged in a dinner in Scottsdale with some 356 Registry members, rendezvous with a friend from Boston at the auction and a look at the Copper State Classic out at Phoenix International Raceway from the mountain above turn two. Did I mention that the Autocross was on Saturday too? I haven't had a bike for some time but I was taking my helmet anyway so I figured I was all set. That's when I remembered that the last time I rode a motorcycle full face helmets hadn't been invented yet. The one that I brought had an eye slit that was fine on a race track but really limited vision on the highway. I had to tip my head down to see the gauges and up to see the road ahead. Don't even ask about seeing left or right, that was such a chore that I finally just raised my speed and stopped looking. I never really thought much about what a 0-100 mph time in the five second range really meant until the first time I twisted the bike on an entrance ramp. Rob was leading the way onto a ramp to I-10 in Phoenix on his Honda that had an exhaust that could be heard all the way to the foothills south of town. It was easy to tell that the coast was clear when he turned up the wick so I figured it was time to see if his friends 635cc ride was faster that his 600. You can keep reading, this is not going to end badly, trust me. Lying down on the tank like the kids, I took the bike up through four gears using the redline of a screaming banshee. Sure enough I had him on the inside as we came off the long ramp onto the interstate. There wasn't any traffic to speak of so I looked down to find the digital speedometer reading 123 mph. Now I know why I could never own one of these things. Way too much fun and way too dangerous. That's the problem with modern technology when you were brought up driving underpowered cars with your foot to the floor just to keep up with traffic. Old habits are hard to break. The next day the bikes were just the ticket for parking at the Barrett Jackson Auction as we were able to drive right up the door. Everyone else was directed to a lot off in the desert with a waiting (sometimes) shuttle bus. Even the valet parking had a long line at the end of the day. This is an annual auction of collector cars that drew 100,000 spectators and 3000 terrific cars. Nearly all the cars were American muscle but there wasn't a project or barn find in the lot. These were all show quality or very close to it. Many were custom but most were restored to original condition and looked like they had just been rolled off the showroom floor. The auction was shown over a five day period on the Speed Channel but even with multiple cameras sweeping the grounds, the tents, the cars and the people it can't transmit the size of this endeavor. There were over 350 vendors selling every conceivable automotive item known to man and then some. There were booths that sold replica gas pumps from the '20's with the glass on top and booths with Ferrari clothing from Formula 1. They had steering wheel restorers, rust proofing experts, and outdoor lifts for your 40 foot motor home. This was the WWF of auctions with every known item to separate a rich guy from his money. They had a display of vibrating recliners for weary show goers that shook people like a blender. I thought I was going to get arrested for watching pornography in public when I looked down at one of the show models shaking like a bowl of Jell-O. One vendor specialty was life size bronze castings of wild animals. You could get a wolf, a wildcat or a prairie dog that looked so life like my dog Zach would've barked at them. The casting didn't stop there as the display included full size horses, a couple in pairs and one with a foal. Think about that for a minute, a casting in metal of a pair of horses. They were only $17,000 but imagine the weight involved. At least nobody could steal them from your front yard but how would you get them home? Maybe in your empty trailer after you sold your '55 Chevy? Just cut a hole in the roof for their heads to stick through. The Ford folks had an indoor dyno set up with a new Mustang on the rack for spectators to try their luck with. There were big fans set up to pull out the exhaust but that couldn't begin to keep up with the clutch smoke when a kid power shifted from first to fourth and blew the bellhousing apart. They appeared to have some difficulty getting the guy out of the car but that part wasn't shown on TV. What a show. Just outside the main tent another Ford attraction was a Drifting display that produced more smoke than a Louisiana Barbeque. With one sweep of the parking lot the cars became shadows dancing in a fog. Fun to watch for about two minutes but maybe I'm just getting too old for today's modern games. Clearly the real show both under the worlds largest tent and on TV was the auction itself. Each bidder had paid $350 for the right to bid and each had deposited cash in escrow to cover their top expected. A great way to prevent 'buyers remorse', they already had your money. We didn't ante up for bidding rights because I was under strict orders not to let anything follow me home. That was a good thing considering the prices. For some people it was either buy a muscle car from the sixties or buy a new house. A fellow in the Midwest had found one of the original twelve GM Futureliner Parade of Progress Tour Buses and spent four years and $400,000 restoring it. These buses were used to tour the US in the early '50's with the some of the current concept cars to gauge public response. They had doors that opened like the Challenger spacecraft to show off the cars and other automotive ideas of the future. When interviewed by a Phoenix TV station prior to the event the owner said that he hoped to get $600,000 and I rolled my eyes and sighed. When the bidding really got going that same camera crew showed the same guy with his feet not touching the ground at TWO MILLION DOLLARS. The gavel didn't stop until the bus was at $4,320,000. Guess I was a little off on that one. I misguessed on a '59 356 A Cab that I pegged at $65k that went on to reach $125k. I guess the cracked bondo on the front cowl in front of the windshield didn't bother the bidder as much as it did me. After a couple of days watching I felt like a New York City cop, nothing would surprise me. But then a 1970 Plymouth Hemi 'Cuda convertible brought $2,160,000 and a '70 Chevy Chevelle LS7 ragtop emptied a guys wallet by $1,242,000. And remember before you load your little prize onto the trailer the BJ folks need a 10% buyer’s fee to cover the cost of the show. What's the guy with the Chevelle going to do when he gets home? Call his neighbors over to show them the car he paid $1,266,200 for? I would go to work in a dress before I ever confessed that I had spent that much money on a Chevy. I'm glad that I attended the auction in person because my small TV screen at home just can't convey the drama being played out on that stage in Arizona. I'm not sure that I really need to go again but if I ever decide to replace my old bathtubs with muscle cars I know where to send the Brink's truck. KTF |
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