Because it’s not really about the cars. It’s about the people who love them enough to wake up at 4 a.m. in the cold. Imagine your neighbor, Bob, spending his entire Saturday polishing a brass lamp that’s older than his house. That’s the spirit here.
These aren’t pristine museum pieces. They are working, grumpy, and leaky machines. Drivers wear goggles, leather caps, and thick coats because these cars have no roofs, heaters, or seatbelts. It’s like riding a lawnmower to Brighton in the rain.
