I was at a classic car show the other day. And there were some beautiful examples of old tat there; Unexceptional and rarefied old cars stretching almost as far as the eye could see. And yet something bothered me. There were some cars there which were too god to be true. Too good to have driven there, with nary an oil dribble in the engine bay or wear to the tyres.
At the end of the show I saw why. When cars started leaving, suddenly trailers started to arrive. And the clean, concours cars were loaded up for the journey home. What a waste.
I’ve never understood the appeal of owning a trailer queen. Don’t get me wrong, I love the idea of a near concours classic; back when it was my sole car and daily driver I could have challenged anybody to find a speck of dust on my Montego, and their searches would have been in vain. I was expert at wet-look shines, with a car cleaning process that could occupy most of a weekend – and usually did. While there were better examples on the show circuit, none could claim a five figure annual mileage and get close to competing on condition. And it felt good, often having the best example on show and collecting awards with gay abandon.
But that is not quite the same thing. I can understand why, after years of restoration, gallons of sweat and tears, and the inevitable marital strife of endless nights spent in the garage, a proud classic car owner might want to treat his newly recommissioned baby with kid gloves. After all that work, you wouldn’t really want to start again 2 years down the line. But cars were built to be driven – that’s why we own them. If all we wanted was to look, wouldn’t it be far easier to buy a poster?
I’ll grant you, a car can be a work of art. Take a look at an early E Type, early Silver Shadow or even a Vauxhall Magnum and you’ll see what I mean. There are several very good reasons to look at it and admire it for what it is – this is why museums exist, after all. But the function of a car has always been transport first and foremost – and why should we deny it what is almost its birthright purely and simply to satisfy a vanity and a necessity to own the best example?
I have a mate, a several-time concours winner. His 11,000-mile Allegro is driven to and from events despite looking far better than it would have done when new. Though, in fairness, as it has all its panels attached and in a matching colour it’s an improvement on many. And Tom’s car is the ideal example with which to refute claims by the trailer brigade that it’s the only way to keep a classic in good order. There’s something a little bit sad about a car that has spent 20 years resting in a garage, only to be restored to pristine condition ready for another 20 years of resting. There’s something even sadder about low mileage originals confined to trailers in a desperate bid to maintain their mileage. It’s a world I cannot fathom, and nor do I really want to.
Those who drive to shows in well-maintained classics, well done, and I take my hat off to you. Those who turn up in shabby-chic examples which look like they might at ten years old, I’m fine with you. Use and enjoy it as intended. You’re benefiting from the hard work you’ve put in and you’re reaping the rewards by enjoying your classic. Cars which are trailered everywhere seem to benefit nobody – not their owners, who spend their weekends remembering how to reverse a trailer; not visitors to club stands who would dismiss such cars as overdone, and not event organisers – after all, the trailers have to go somewhere.
In fact, I’d argue we need to go the other way. Show people just how valid your classic is as transport in 2016 by using it as regularly as you can. And when it comes to showing it, let it wear those hallmarks of daily use with pride – the odd supermarket dink, paint scuff, stone chip or rusty edge. This is motoring as it used to be, rather than rose tinted nostalgia for a past which wasn’t there. And, moreover, it’s fun.
If you’re at any shows over the summer, keep an eye out for me. I’ll be the one with the unwashed and rusty P6.