(re-run)
For 17 years, I’ve owned a house in Monterey County, California. For sixteen years I’ve participated in some of the car events during Car Week, always in August, with events happening In Pacific Grove, Carmel, Monterey, Seaside, and of course, Pebble Beach. Only this year I’m mom-sitting while my sis and her hubby take a well-earned break from caring for Mom.
Instead, we’re watching the car show highlights on the local news. Today was the Concourse d’ Limones, all the ugly cars, the ones that don’t run, the ones with issues.
Unlike the Ferrari that sold this week for 30 million dollars, the cars are owned by regular people, and they come from all over to show them and to see the vintage cars, most of them guys, groups of guys, guys with girlfriends, guys with wives. Occasionally you’ll see a group of women, but mostly its guys, guys, guys.
I’m in the Santa Cruz mountains missing it all. But I’ve found things to do in my two-hour window each morning when the paid caregiver comes to help Mom get cleaned up and dressed. I’ve found a couple of thrift stores and a couple of antique stores. Besides picking up some groceries and making runs to CVS for drug-type stuff, I’ve managed to drop some serious cash on a wide variety of no-I-don’t-need-it-but-I-want-it stuff. The way I look at it, I’m stimulating the local economy, doing my part to keep capitalism chugging along.
It’s been a hoot seeing the way old hippies live here in the mountains. They hitch hike, they say hello while drinking coffee at sidewalk tables, they work in antique stores. I’ve followed logging trucks and held up motorcycle guys while I wind my Prius up Highway 9 to Mac’s Antiques in Boulder Creek, with 40 dealers, half of them with outside spaces, and the spiders are free!
I spent a little over $100 today but walked out with one huge box, a large paper bag, and a plastic case filled with Brio train tracks and engines for my grandson.
No Women’s Car Show in Carmel, no Concourse d’ Elegance in Pebble (I never go to that one anyway), no Little Car Show in Pacific Grove (always a fun time). The weather today was 70 degrees at the beach. But I digress.
The Monterey airport has 160 private jets parked there this week. That’s bordering on obscene. If each of those pilots would donate $500 to the local food bank, we could help out the farm workers in the county in a big way.
It’s the old story of the haves and have-nots, right here in Monterey County (I’m actually in Santa Cruz County this week).
But when the local antique store has better prices than some of the PG thrift stores, you have to wonder how that can be. And then you realize that all those outdoor spaces are going to be dealing with rain in a month or so, and those dealers want their breakable dishes out of there before they get carried away in a mountain gully washer.
I’ll be back next year, Car Week. Until then, where did you say those Santa Cruz thrift stores are?
FIRST DATE, WORST DATE EVER! 