In the church of the almighty auto
Trying to distill Southern Californians’ relationships with their cars is as ridiculous as suggesting, “If you’ve got a few minutes, I’ll explain this whole love thing.”
The California Department of Motor Vehicles estimates there are 26 million registered vehicles and 20 million licensed drivers who, according to the Auto Club, log more than 150 billion miles a year. Drivers in Los Angeles, who spend more time in their cars than most people on Earth, are polygamous, by necessity but also to break the monotony. What are our cars but daily devotionals that we need, adore and hate?
We name our cars, we yell at our cars, we slam the hood when they overheat and massage the leather seats with mink oil. We take our cars for a long drive along Mulholland Drive at sunset. We wash them on Saturday morning while listening to “Car Talk.” When we are not engaged with our own cars, we’re involved with others. We slobber over the Buick concept cars at the auto show. We ask the girl at the Farmers Market about her PT Cruiser. We debate with friends the benefits of electric, hybrid and diesel engines. We try to convince our spouses that a Dodge Viper is a good investment. And we find countless ways to indulge the fascination -- whether it’s mild or obsessive -- from art to books to clubs.
Our level of engagement with cars is never neutral. There is always a reason behind our choices, among them aesthetics, power, piety and economy. We may be filled with pride that we drive a 20-year-old Accord with the luster and streamline of an Idaho potato, or we may feel powerless. Ditto a new Boxster.
At a certain point, however, the honeymoon ends: We disengage, do other things with our free time. We watch TV. We sleep. We eschew the auto insert of the paper for the book review. Or we buy a new car.
But there are those in Los Angeles with truer hearts, whose devotion to and ambitions for their cars keep the fire burning for decades, who describe their life’s work as “raising cars from the dead,” whose business they name the Church of Automotive Reliability and who, out of sheer adulation of vehicular metal, seek to create an auto religious experience for the rest of us. Here’s a journey through the world of the auto extremists, where a car is anything but mere transportation.
The resurrectionist
“I’d be surprised if there are 20 Italias in Southern California -- and I own five,” says Drac Conley, 40, standing in the driveway of his Marina del Rey home, surrounded by more than $1 million worth of Italias, Porches and Ferraris. Although in their various stages of rust and decay, you’d never know it.
“I’m known for bringing cars back from the dead,” says Conley, whose business, Italia West, takes cars down to the coach (the shell) and rebuilds them using only original parts. Which, considering there were only 753 Italias made between 1965 and 1973, does not make Conley’s garage the sort one pulls up to and asks, can I get it back later today?
“What I do is called full-concourses restoration on pre-1974 European sports cars,” Conley says. “The average job takes a year and costs $50,000.” What motivates his clients, who include Cher and Billy Idol, to spend all this time and money?
“For some, the car is a status symbol they can take to Concours d’Elegance in Pebble Beach, which is the most exclusive car show in the world. Then you have the whole California dream, which revolves around cars. I know old men who are rebuilding their 1932 Fords for the fifth time because they love them so much. I think, for most people I work for, it’s a genuine love of the vehicle.”
Like many love affairs, Conley has seen the intimacy turn to pain.
“This is a 1969 Italia that has won five first places, in Pebble Beach, at Concours D’Elegance in Palm Springs, at the Italian Concorso in Carmel,” he says, lifting a cloth off a red Italia splattered with yellow paint, its windshield and mirrors bashed, the upholstery in shreds. “It was in the owner’s driveway when it got vandalized.” Conley appears both stoic and dreamy as he looks over the damage. “I made this car -- and now I’ll redo it.”
The ‘shade tree mechanic’
“I’m bangin’ on it but nothing’s happening,” Stud Williams, 47 and a drummer for the band Cowboy Nation, says as he hammers an impact screwdriver into a bolt that mounts the engine of a 1964 Barracuda Fastback. A self-described “shade tree mechanic” who’s dubbed his business the Church of Automotive Reliability, Williams, of Hollywood, is in the backyard of the Barracuda’s owner, Al Ruggiero, whose expression grows more pained with each blow.
“I don’t know why I bought it,” says Ruggiero, a 31-year-old actor who’s appeared on “Law & Order.” “It was my main transportation until it broke down last summer. It’s been sitting here in my backyard since July.” Williams stands back and surveys the recalcitrant bolt. “This is the time we have a cigarette and a beer and decide what to do next.”
“All I wanted to do was put in a new manifold,” Ruggiero says, “but first we put in stainless steel transmission lines, and now, it’s one thing after another.”
Although Ruggiero did recently buy a new Ford Ranger pickup, he is sentimental about the Barracuda. “I used to get stares when I drove down the street, from girls and cops. They’d say, ‘Hey, man, nice car.’ ” Does Ruggiero think a car with a big personality is something one gives up when one needs more reliability?
“That’s funny, because I did buy it from a girl a few years older than me, who said, ‘I need something more reliable at this point,’ ” he says, looking not entirely happy with the idea that he’s outgrowing the car. “But yeah, I see that when people get older there would be too many issues to deal with besides the car.”
“And that’s when I come in and save the cars,” says Williams, who drives a 1960 Chevy Apache pickup. “The thing about old cars is you have to be willing to work on them, all the time. You’ve got to go get filthy at Ecology [a chain of auto salvage yards] every weekend.” Ruggiero interrupts. “What are we going to do about that bolt?”
The king of parts
Steve Remington likes to race Slant-6s -- high-performance cars from the ‘60s and ‘70s with six-cylinder engines set at a slant -- at road rallies, at drag races and occasionally on Mulholland Drive.
“I’m driving my 1961 Valiant -- a car I rescued out of a junkyard in Wilmington -- between the 405 and Coldwater Canyon one night, and this young guy passes me in a Porsche, wanting to show me he was faster. So, I showed him.”
Whereas Remington’s Valiant skidded through a curve and wound up with a wheel hanging off the road, the Porsche went flying right off. “I helped the guy out of his car -- which his parents had bought for him that day. His dad showed up at 4 a.m., not too happy.”
Remington, who’s 39 and lives in Silver Lake, is currently the owner of seven Plymouth Valiants, built between 1960 and 1976. His love of Valiants developed during a romantic experiment in college.
“I had a Datsun 510, and I dated a lot in that car. I had a term paper due for sociology, and I decided to perform a test: Was I getting the girls, or the Datsun? So I sold it and bought my first Valiant. I had girls run away from me when they saw the Valiant -- but I got an A on the paper.”
Remington, an engineer who designs washing stations for trains and buses, spends every other weekend looking for car parts, on the Internet, in salvage yards.
“It’s becoming less and less fun, though, because there are fewer old cars showing up,” he says. Does that mean he’ll eventually have to buy a new car?
“Never. Buying a new car is a terrible investment,” he says. “You pay 25K for a car, you drive 3 feet off the lot, and it’s worth 20K. The economy of driving an old car makes much more sense. I bought a 1961 Valiant 15 years ago, and during that time have put maybe $5,000 into it. It had 120,000 miles on it when I bought it, and now it’s got 480,000. Where am I going to get a better deal than that?”
The devotee, old school
It’s Friday night at Bob’s Big Boy in Burbank, and the parking lot is packed with hundreds of car aficionados and a century of cars, from Tin Lizzies to Jaguar XJ12s. Into this scene pulls a forest green 1973 Mini Cooper with ragtop, a car that, despite its tiny size, draws a big crowd.
“I’ve had it five years -- and just finished putting it together,” says Dominick Rubalcava, an attorney and a commissioner with the Department of Water and Power. “It took so long because I had to get most of the parts from Europe. I get as much attention with this car as I do with my Ferrari.” Rubalcava, of Los Angeles, says the Cooper has something else over the Ferrari. “What I like so much about this car is, it’s precise, it’s exact,” he says. “There’s an incredible relationship between your thoughts and the car’s ability to execute.”
What does he think of the new Mini Cooper? “I think they’ve built a really good car. I might even get one,” he says. “I buy a lot of cars. My wife and I have a deal: I get to buy whatever I want, and then I write her a check for the same amount.” Rubalcava says his love of wheels is bred in the bone.
“If you grew up here in the ‘50s, as I did, a car, any car, was emancipation,” he said. “The magic carpet away from your parents. I mean, look at these cars.”
“These are mechanical, you can get your hands in them. Now, cars are electrical. Give a Honda Civic to a 16-year-old, he can’t do anything under the hood, he has to take it to the dealer.”
The devotee, new school
Eight years ago, Stephanie and Gabriel Baltierra of Los Feliz decided they loved their cars so much they wanted to get them blessed.
“Gabriel’s family is Catholic, and they like to bless everything,” says Stephanie, 34, who works as a waitress in Silver Lake. The event she and Gabriel started, the Blessing of the Cars, has grown from a gathering of a few hundred friends and family and their vehicles to more than 10,000.
The all-day and into-the-night annual affair, held at Hansen Dam (this year’s on July 26), begins with a mass morning blessing by a Catholic priest, who then goes car to car, blessing each individually. Some people also ask him put holy water in their radiators. Does Stephanie think people come for the show or the salvation?
“It has been said that the event attracts ... more tattoos than the Navy,” she says, “but I think, in the end, people come because they are passionate about their cars, just like they become passionate about anything else.”
Stephanie, who drives a 1964 Comet Caliente with “a mild custom” and is a member of an all-female car club called the Minxes, disagrees with the idea that the cars being rolled off today’s assembly lines do not inspire devotion.
“There are so many subcultures within car culture, it’s like in high school, with all the different scenes, stoners and smart kids and jocks,” she says. “To me, a car you love is like a living, beating heart.”
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Where the cars are
Car calendar
Car events, marketplace sites, plus articles and art from the late “Big Daddy” Roth are available at www.driveonline.com.
Long Beach Hi-Performance Swap Meet & Car Show
This Sunday. The monthly event is held at Veterans Stadium in Long Beach. Info: (800) 762-9785 or www.toppingevents.com.
Pomona Car Show
The West Coast’s largest auto-centric swap meet at the Fairplex in Pomona. Next show is 5 a.m.-2 p.m. March 2. Info: www.pomonaswapmeet.com.
So. Calif. Car Club/Chrysler Performance West Spring Fling
Car show and swap meet. April 12-13, Woodley Park, Van Nuys. Info: www.cpwclub.com.
Petersen Automotive Museum
Now featuring Kustoms With a “K,” 6060 Wilshire Blvd., Los Angeles. Through April 13. Info: (323) 930-CARS, or www.petersen.org.
Pick Your Parts
Auto salvage yard Pick Your Parts. Free admission and 20% off parts Feb. 15-16. Sun Valley (11201 Pendleton St.), Wilmington (1903 Blinn Ave.) and Anaheim (1235 S. Beach Blvd). Info: (800) 962-CARS, or www.pickapart.com.
Autobooks/Aerobooks
A car fetishist’s dream, with hundreds of car magazines, thousands of car books and 200 die-cast collector models, 3524 W. Magnolia Blvd., Burbank, (818) 845-0707, www.autobooks-aerobooks.com.
