Photo and text: Christer Lundem

We have now travelled for a week in California, our travel companion is an arch American Ford Mustang. So when we arrive in San Francisco and see the Golden Gate Bridge, we cannot suppress the temptation to follow in Steve McQueen footsteps: Imagine being detective Frank Bullitt. I want to race in the streets, jump the hills, see the views and not at least find the place where Frank Bullitt lived in the movie. The apartment is located at 1153 Taylor Street, at the adjacent corner of Clay Street. It is not hard to find by feet, but without using Bullitt's Highland Green 1968 Ford Mustang GT 390 or the gangsters black Dodge Charger R / T, it will be a very sweaty experience. When we finally find the place, as the tourists we have become, I cannot resist the temptation. I'm posing as McQueen in sunglasses outside his apartment. I know it is silly, but feel much cooler than before I left. There are only 24 hours until we are going home, but it really doesn't matter. For ten days we have experienced California's car culture with no initial expectations.  

But what an adventure this has been – An American Car Adventure!

Photo and text: Christer Lundem

It is all cozy with the partying and Champagne, but now we both want to see some real racing. Mazda Raceway Laguna Seca is one of the world's most famous racetracks. It is exciting, mythical and challenging. The spectators are really close to the action. One experience the best of classic racing anywhere. Everything from small Mini Coopers to classic Formula 1 cars compete on the track. The racing is close, exciting and the volume intense. The old cars are allowed to drive on straight pipes without silencers. Under the simmering heat with classic V8 Mustangs and AC Cobras, the share noice of it all is so loud that you literally feel the sound shaking your entrails. Outside the racing area, at the parking lot, it is even better. Here you will find unique Ferraris and rare sports cars casually parked among Chevy´s, Subaru´s and BMW´s. It's incredibly hot, we get silly sunburnt even with our clothes and caps on. Eventually it becomes so hot that we simply have travel back to the hotel. I cannot belive it: I've had enough of cars. Time to go to San Francisco.

Tormorrow: Visiting Frank Bullitt

Photo and text: Christer Lundem

Outside “The Quail” there are parked twelve new Lamborghini Huracáns. I do not even think they have so many cars standing ready at the Lamborghini factory. We stumble across them on your way to our breakfast. Strangely almost missing them all, circling around an old Alfa Giulietta Spider and a Mercedes 300 SL Gullwing. That's what happens when you are exposed to massive visual impact day after day. With creative ways (I am not getting into how…) we manage to get us invited into the closed event. There are rumors that people have tried for several years, so I've probably struck pure luck or something else... Here we find the playground of the ritch, helicopters taking off constantly. It is even rumored that Jerry Seinfield is here, all this while high heels are desperately trying to penetrate immaculate grass and people sway left right and center of us. We fight our way between, hats, settees, dresses, khaki pants, cufflinks, gold watches and sunglasses. We are clearly not dressed for the occasion. However, with the high temperature taken into consideration, we think our shorts and shirts are the choise of the clever.

There is just so much to look at and everything that one can dream of car wise is there. TV-presenter Jay Leno hangs with the Porsche reimaginers Singer, and is caught in an infinite "selfies-run" with manic fans. All celebrities are under attack here. 74 year old racer Derek Bell gets attacked with a microphone precisely inserted into his face. A blissful circus. We enjoy the mayhem at a comfortable distance. Drinking bubbles under the shadow of an umbrella. It is extreme and incredibly entertaining. The evening ends up at the same Mexican restaurant as the day before, and this time we meet the best friend of Tesla's Elon Musk. Definitely an interesting guy. No names are told. That is just the way here, and we have began to think that it is quite normal.
 
Tomorrow: Enough is enough

Photo and text: Christer Lundem

I am unfortunately not motorshows man. I prefer that cars are being used as intended, and that I get to experience both sound and movement. Golf Club Pebble Beach hosts a world famous Concours d'Elegance. The cars are on display at the meticulous groomed golf course and are assessed by elegant gentlemen in suits and hats. I think it is a strange mix of frivolous and great. Fortunately, there is a perfect compromise, the cars attending drive a mini rally on 17 miles along Ocean Avenue in Carmel. In addition, this experience for free. Seeing cars I have only heard about, pass accompanied by the engine noise and smell is wonderful. This certainly is the way to experience all the unique cars without  haveing to put on my suit and become part of circus. We end the day at a Mexican restaurant seated beside legend Nick Mason (drummer of Pink Floyd), leving us stuffed with food in a far too expensive luxury cottage on the golf club “The Quail”. Purely coincidental they arrange one of the world's finest Motor Show there the following day. Tomorrow we do not even have to drive to experience something extraordinare.

Tomorrow: Elegantly wasted

Photo and text: Christer Lundem

We decide to make the journey to Monterey as a proper road trip. It means in reality to avoid highways and find a bit of the old California. The road we will travel on is Highway 1. We start on Highway 101 through Santa Barbara, head north on Highway 1 to Monterey. The landscape is dazzling beautiful, large parts of the road runs along the Pacific Ocean, and the salty sea air makes us feel refreshed. Along the itinerary we see surfers, campers, hippies, motorcycles and some single bikers with way to good patience. We are now in the California wilderness. In the next two hours we haven´t even had mobile connection. Making cautious city folks like us a bit nervous. The roads wind their way around small mountains and it is just as nice as we would imagine them to be. The Mustang rumbles satisfied, it is as though it recognizes that we embrace the American car culture to the fullest.

The trip is estimated to six hours, so we think we have plenty of time. After driving for six hours and reached The Big Sur, it starts to get dark and cold air bites. In fact it is so cold that convertible top must up, and the heater switched on. The roads are not illuminated, and the cozy roadtrip has degenerated into a "death race" between us and vehicles with dim or no lighting. Totally exhausted, at eleven o'clock at night, when we find a hotel just north of Monterey. This is a shack that most closely resemble an abandoned psychiatric hospital. The hotel room is a wall-to-wall lined cell. Having stepped on something that certainly is a carpet full of urine, we go to bed in desperation with our clothes on.

Tomorrow we will sleep in a good hotel, whatever the costs: Champagne 24 houres non stop.