Infiniti

While the world changes, Pebble Beach is a firm, fascinating study of how the world does not. Even the gated road to Pebble Beach is exclusive — the illustrious 17 Mile Drive that curves along the ocean, each home with large windows more inspiring than the next. Yet, a peek inside reveals many homes that are empty, hollow castles overlooking a spectacular sea. Watchful car enthusiasts are posted on the road that leads to Pebble Beach overlooking ocean scenery, waiting for beautiful old cars to pass by. It is here that some of the world’s wealthiest convene annually in August to remind that the parameters of blue-blood pedigree are intrinsically as staunch as the cars they helm: polished, shiny, rigid, unforgiving and immaculate.

An early arrival at the golf course on the peninsula provides a view of the inner workings of Pebble Beach, an antique car show established in 1950. Old men drive their prized pets past the 18th hole to their assigned spots, followed by a team of handlers who furiously spit shine every crevice with dainty clothes. Awards are issued for originality and authenticity, while judges also evaluate design, styling and elegance. The Sunday showing is the culmination of a week of pomp and circumstance — including the parade throughout the region reminding the general public that this upper crest society still exists. Access is limited to the more exclusive showing at Quail Lodge (only 3000 discerning tickets available) with a famed mouthwatering parking lot of exotic makes and models, and in spirited events like the more rugged, yet still wealthy historic Laguna Seca races.

Yet, it is here at the annual show that these owners — nearly all men and Caucasian — show their pristine packages with decided anticipation in hope of winning a grand trophy in their class for their collections, arriving by 8 a.m. Shortly after, the women start toarrive, some dressed in period; the essential item is a frilly feathered hat. The bespeckled senior judges scamper about, clad in uniform brimmed-hats, dapper bespoke suits, carrying clipboards. It is worth noting that the Pebble Beach chairperson is indeed a woman, Sandra Kasky Button, who is an avid collector and actor Edward Herrman serves as the Master of Ceremonies. Early arrivals and friends of the entrants come toting refreshments and lawn chairs, setting up next to the booths that sell top-shelf spirits, flutes of champagne and $5 cups of coffee. Luxury car manufacturers use watchful (and monied) eyes to attract interest in their latest products, including Jaguar with a brand new XJ and Infiniti with a hi-tech hologram exhibit of it’s sleek new M. Porsche, the featured marque, boasts it’s new four-door sedan the Panamera throughout the weekend’s events. Smaller exotic coach builders such as Fisker with it’s lean-minded Karma are found along walkways and a display of the new super car Devon GTX is just outside the lodge entry.

This year a fine mist layers the embankment early on, giving way to noon sunshine as the group acknowledges the presence of new cars in the reveal of the new Bentley Mullsane unveiling with regal British flourish.

The privileged, the connected, the car makers and a few lucky journalist-hanger-on-ers hole up in corporate suites overlooking the greenery where the judging commences, munching on fresh heirloom tomatoes and sipping early afternoon cocktails. Jay Leno, the quintessential celebrity car collector, strolls with a microphone and a television camera, delighting in his hobby reeling off tech specs about the cars on hand. The crowd converges, as curious seekers gather, who wish to see Duisenbergs, Delages and what will be the uncontested winning car — Bob Lee’s exceptional 1937 Horch 853 Voll & Ruhrbeck Sport Cabriolet. By noon, it’s hard to get an up close glimpse of the cars on display due to the crowded path.

One gets the sense that this massive audience is here to see much more than glorious cars with their hundred-dollar tickets. What they come for is to peer at privilege, the kind of privilege that affords a yacht to be docked at the water’s edge, the kind of wealth that bids 7.25 million on a newfangled 1965 Shelby Cobra in one of the weekend’s various auctions and the kind of wealth that the mere accumulation of money can’t buy. For most of these spectators, there is the hope that this envy and admiration will translate into a well-placed connection, a coveted invitation to exclusivity. For most, this hope is folly. Not much changes with the Pebble Beach crowd, including the addition of new players whose money predates Silicon Valley.

Yet, this is not to say there is much to see for just about anyone with the slightest interest in car culture. For indeed, here at Pebble Beach is a fascinating assembly of old world Anglophile aesthetic and the essence of Hollywood glamour, and cars that most of us only see in dreams. Here is a sub-culture that seems to be unshakable, where all that changes is the years on the calendar, and the name on the trophy.

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