49 / 103
willing to discuss here, but let’s say it
usually involved my Harley and a
woman. Ah, the wonders of misspent
youth!
All of a sudden, I realize two bid-
ders I have watched on television auc-
tions are sitting right in front of me, as
in Don (Blackhawk Museum) Williams
and to my left is Ross (3 Dog Garage)
Myers. I am amongst a couple of heavy
hitters and loving every second of this
once-in-a-lifetime experience. Once
again I am finding out all car guys are
really just sixteen year-old kids when
it comes to the “bigger boys, bigger
toys” theory. This proves especially
true when another front row gentle-
man from across the aisle sits in front
of Ross and immediately becomes his
bidding assistant, actually raising his
own hand to place a bid for Ross – too
funny!
Then, during a slight break in the
action, I see standing in front of me,
Mark Hyman, of the well-known, very
reputable, St. Louis based collectible
car business called – what else –
Hyman Ltd. Classic Cars. Reaching
out over the first row to shake his
hand, I kiddingly tell him I’m really
upset he lured away one of the best
foreign and domestic auto mechanics
on the West Coast, a great guy by the
name of Steve Bonney. He laughed
and just replied, “
All you have to do is
ship your cars to St. Louis!
” As the
auction fired up, I didn’t have time to
tell him I knew two guys who were
doing just that very thing.
Well, Don sold his gorgeous 427
Cobra competition car, which had
served as a dual purpose vintage racer
and 1,000-mile grand tourer for many
years. Someone sitting about ten feet
from Don was the highest bidder, and
after I congratulated Ross Myers on a
fine purchase he stood up, saying, “
I’m
breaking out in a sweat, my heart is
palpating, and I feel kind of woozy. I
have to go home and figure out how to
pay for the thing.
” A bunch of us
started crackin’ up, knowing full well
that wouldn’t be a problem…but
there’s always a slim chance…nah, no
way!
Afterwards, Don invited me to din-
ner with the rest of his party, and I
gratefully accepted by muttering
something like, “
Yeah, that doesn’t
sound too bad
.” Are you kidding me!
Talk about a stumble bum reply to a
fantastic gentleman who basically
made my trip to Scottsdale worth-
while. I never have been accused of
having too much savoir faire.
Friday, January 29th
– Russo and Steele
Russo and Steele’s atmosphere is
designed for everyone to simply have
a lot of fun. Don’t get me wrong, the ul-
timate goal of their auction is that of
all auctions, to get the buyers and sell-
ers together so deals are made and
everyone goes home happy.
The second you drive up to pay for
parking, the money takers are smilin’
and funnin’ with ya’, and the parking
lot guys use exaggerated, swooping
waves to point you toward a parking
spot. Then there was our shuttle bus
driver, who literally missed her true
calling as a standup comedian because
she kept up a line of hilarious patter
from the first person on to the last per-
son off. Her quart jar for tips was
squashed full of bills, and when exit-
ing we all crammed in some more
Washingtons, Jeffersons, Lincolns, and
even a few Hamiltons.
There’s also, what I guess you
could call, a welcoming committee
greeting you right after you get off the
bus, enter the tent to pay a $30 admit-
tance fee, then proceed to step into the
first of two cavernous preview tents.
Again, everyone is super friendly,
wishing you a good day, telling you to
enjoy all the wonderful cars, and ex-
pressing hope that you find a car
which you would really like to own. It
was a great combination of “be sure
and have a good time, but also feel free
to spend a little money.”
Accompanying me was a friend of
mine, Richard Herman, a “pip-pip,
cheerio, jolly good” fan of British clas-
sics, especially anything with “wings”
(British slang for body panels arching
over arched wheels). He fell deeply in
lust (yes, ladies, men lust after cars)
with a red body 1961 Morgan Plus 4
Drop Head, adorned on both sides
with black wings. It was scheduled for
the block a little later in the day, and
he came oh so close to registering to
bid. He must have traipsed around the
teeny tiny tin Brit (I kept looking for
the wind up key in the back) a dozen
times, talking to the car’s representa-
tive and muttering over and over, “
I
just gotta’ have this car.
” He finally
force marched himself away from the
car so he couldn’t ogle and drool over
it anymore, and never did register to
bid. After he reads this article, he’ll
immediately suffer a my loss/someone
else’s gain moment, because the saucy
little British crumpet hammered for
$36,850. “
It was the deal of a lifetime,
a fantastic opportunity, you won’t be-
lieve what I passed up…
” Admit it,
you’ve said these exact same phrases,
and many more.
Friday, January 29th
– Gooding and Company
Why do I love the Gooding and
Company auction house so much? Be-
cause of Charlie Ross, of course! If you
don’t recognize the name, you should
not be reading this article. He is their
infamous, oh so British, auctioneer
who scolds bidders, “
Oh, sir, you’ve al-
ready bid $650,000. Are you going to
let someone else drive away in your
car
for only $25,000 more?
” or,
“
Madam, I will treat you to a free cock-
tail at the rear of the room. That way
your husband can bid with no interfer-
ence.
” He is too hilarious when cajol-
ing bidders to the point of comical
harassment in order to increase the
bid for a car. And this afternoon he is
not disappointing his avid fans.
After photographing a silver on
red 289 Cobra, which I could swear
sold at the Rick Cole Auction last Au-
gust in Monterey (a flip, perhaps?) I
walk over to the java stand, not really
paying attention to where I am going
because, of course, I’m staring at some
gorgeous wheeled sculptures. I come to
The SHELBY AMERICAN
Spring 2016 49