When I go to a Concours show, ANY concours show, all I want to do is touch the cars. Million dollar cars, mind you. And when an owner of a Bugatti sees me coming, he knows I’m gonna do just that. And there’s no stopping me. Case in point, The Malibu Concours d’ Elegance.
Ridiculous dollars roll into these shows, causing us to gawk, drool, salivate, have a seizure and then a full-on panic attack. (Not necessarily in that order.) Only way to get control is to cause trouble. Serious trouble. And that, my friends, is exactly what I did…
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