The end of March was fairly cold in New York, but a slight chill isn’t enough to stop classic car people from revving up the engine and pushing the tach needle almost to the red.  It was a brisk Sunday and time for the first car show of the season.

The show was run by Long Island Car Shows, a decidedly for-profit enterprise that operates a series of car shows around Long Island.  I use the term “car shows” loosely, as these are basically beauty pageants, where they give trophies to cars that a shiny rather than significant or authentic.  This is a group that will take a fee from anyone with a car, and draws an array of vehicles that are monumentally pedestrian.  As the weather improves, better cars come out just to kill a day, but in late March the pickings are thin.

My son and I entered this show at Belmont Racetrack the year before, and took first place in the foreign category.  There are something like 62 categories, including about 10 for Corvettes alone.  There is one category to cover all foreign marques, and they let in any car that pays, whether it’s 50 years old or last month’s model.  When you operate for profit, cash is king.

But few people come to see a Nissan Sentra with some extra chrome.  Muscle cars and T-Buckets are always a draw, but classic British cars like my Healey always draw a crowd.  And without a crowd, the Long Island Car Show folks have nothing to offer.  Car owners pay to get in so these guys can sell tickets to people to look at the cars.  Without interesting cars, they have nothing to sell.

We decided to come again this year because my son and I were both itching to get back in the Healey and go for a ride.  It didn’t hurt for him that we won first place, as he got a monster size trophy, though it was made of cheap plastic, a perfect reflection of the show itself.  For me, it meant a day with my son, which is the best reason there is to go.

Packed up the Healey and took off for the show, my very excited son as navigator and I as the obligatory driver.  We arrived about 10:30 in the morning, about a half hour earlier than we had arrived the year before.  At the gate, we were told that we were too late.  Too late?  The woman told us that cars to be judged had to be there by 10.  She said they had kept it open until 10:15, but then closed the judging.  I could go in as a “display only” car, but not to be judged. 



We went into the show and stopped at the judges’ van, to see if we could get them to let us into the judging.  The boss, whose name is unknown since he didn’t bother to introduce himself, gave me a broad smile when I asked.  He then explained how if he let us in, he would have to let everyone who came late in.  I told him we had come a long way.  He didn’t care. 

I reminded him that when he needed more cars in the show to make more money, he was quite happy to let people come in and late, as long as they paid.  He told me how it was people like me who make his life un pleasant.  Actually, he used somewhat rougher language than that.

Since we were already inside as a display car, we decided to park and look around.  The show was less than overwhelming.  There weren’t too many cars, and the ones there were notably inconsequential.  Within the foreign class, there was a 1996 BMW Z3 and a Volkswagon Beetle with some extra chrome purchased in the Bronx.  One would have thought that he would want a car like ours in the show.  Apparently, he just wanted the fee. 

The Healey immediately drew a substantial crowd.  It was clearly the most interesting foreign there, and one of the few true classics at the show.  Now my Healey is a driver, not a concours-level trailer queen.  But it is a beautiful car, in original condition and treated with respect by my chief mechanic.  We’re quite proud of it, even though it won’t win a gold medal at a big time event.  And others seem to enjoy checking it out, talking to us about it and taking photos of it. 



My son was extremely disappointed to have been shut out of the show.  He likes the big, flashy trophy.  But Long Island Car Shows has rules. It breaks those rules when it’s good for business, but for some reason it decided not to let us in that day.

After a brief walk around, seeing little of interest, we jumped back in the Healey to leave.  On the way out, the show’s owner yelled at me, “And I see you leave early too!”  He missed the point, of course.  No reason to hang around for his benefit if we weren’t going to be judged.

My son left without a trophy and said to me that from now on, we should only go to real car shows, where cars were judged by knowledgeable people based on real criteria, and where a first place win meant something.  Real car shows don’t worry about when you arrive, only that you bring a car that adds to the richness of the show.  They tend to focus more on the cars and less on the cash.

And I’ll still get to spend the day with my son.