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Opinion: car enthusiasm is not just for the super rich

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Opinion: car enthusiasm is not just for the super rich | Top Gear

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They’ve always been objects of desire, but forget being a ‘custodian’, be someone who enjoys driving cars...

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Opinion: car enthusiasm is not just for the super rich

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They’ve always been objects of desire, but forget being a ‘custodian’, be someone who enjoys driving cars...

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Opinion: car enthusiasm is not just for the super rich

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They’ve always been objects of desire, but forget being a ‘custodian’, be someone who enjoys driving cars...

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Opinion: car enthusiasm is not just for the super rich

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Opinion: car enthusiasm is not just for the super rich

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They’ve always been objects of desire, but forget being a ‘custodian’, be someone who enjoys driving cars...

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I don't often reference Biblical verse for many reasons. Mostly, because I don’t know any. However, watching this year's Monterey Car Week from afar I am moved to quote Corinthians 10:14: “Therefore, my dear friends, flee from idolatry.”

Now, I’m sure this whole event is great fun to attend and there’s no denying the mouthwatering machinery gathered to celebrate car culture past, present and future. But these people need to calm down. I’ve never heard so much “one of one” fawning, “just 64 miles from new” heresy celebrated as a good thing and “significant car ready for its next custodian” nonsense in my life. Cars as deities. The holiest of holies brought together to be worshipped and revered. From afar, of course.

The auctions were like a scene from a grotesque empire at the peak of its gluttonous ways. Withered arms holding up paddles, auctioneer almost foaming at the mouth as he calls another bid well into the millions. World records tumbled. People cheered and clinked champagne glasses. The web frothed over garish interiors. I’ve never seen anything like it. I watched through the medium of Instagram and found myself unable to turn away but simultaneously horrified. Is this what car enthusiasm looks like in 2025?

Cars have always been objects of desire, of course. It’s why we are fascinated by speed or luxury, or the idea that the sweat of great motorsport victories drips slowly down to our road cars. But Car Week felt out of control. The gathered heroes had simply become trophies. Monuments not to their engineering, the skill and talent of the teams behind them or their dynamic capabilities but to the great taste, standing and success of their owners. The soaring prices driven – and I admit this is pure conjecture – not by a noble and enlightened understanding of the core appeal of each stunning car... but rather the conceit of what each ‘custodian’ wanted to project.

Maybe this is just jealousy speaking? Well, yes. I desire a Ferrari F50 on a molecular level, for example. It physically hurts me to think I’ll never drive one again. But it hurts even more that maybe nobody will ever drive one again since Ralph Lauren’s example sold at Monterey for $9,245,000. It’s ironic that many of the greatest cars ever created have become so prized that they’re no longer cars at all. The F50 now a Giallo Fly idol to be worshipped once a year for the rest of time in northern California. How depressing.

But even accepting my own failure to adhere to guiding principles such as “Thou shalt not covet”, I think there’s more going on here. I’ll never understand the deification of cars, but I do understand the slightly sickening message that lay beneath so much of the Monterey coverage: car enthusiast nirvana is solely for the super wealthy. This is complete and utter nonsense. While there are Caterhams, Alpines, well used but still dazzling M3s and 911s, GT-Rs and old Imprezas, and all manner of fantastic cars available, even we paupers can taste heaven.

Forget being a ‘custodian’. Be somebody who enjoys cars as, y’know, cars. And, going back to the Bible for a second, I think it’s Deuteronomy in which Moses passes on God’s most sacred word. “Above all else, my beloved, drive it like you stole it.”

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I don't often reference Biblical verse for many reasons. Mostly, because I don’t know any. However, watching this year's Monterey Car Week from afar I am moved to quote Corinthians 10:14: “Therefore, my dear friends, flee from idolatry.”

Now, I’m sure this whole event is great fun to attend and there’s no denying the mouthwatering machinery gathered to celebrate car culture past, present and future. But these people need to calm down. I’ve never heard so much “one of one” fawning, “just 64 miles from new” heresy celebrated as a good thing and “significant car ready for its next custodian” nonsense in my life. Cars as deities. The holiest of holies brought together to be worshipped and revered. From afar, of course.

The auctions were like a scene from a grotesque empire at the peak of its gluttonous ways. Withered arms holding up paddles, auctioneer almost foaming at the mouth as he calls another bid well into the millions. World records tumbled. People cheered and clinked champagne glasses. The web frothed over garish interiors. I’ve never seen anything like it. I watched through the medium of Instagram and found myself unable to turn away but simultaneously horrified. Is this what car enthusiasm looks like in 2025?

Cars have always been objects of desire, of course. It’s why we are fascinated by speed or luxury, or the idea that the sweat of great motorsport victories drips slowly down to our road cars. But Car Week felt out of control. The gathered heroes had simply become trophies. Monuments not to their engineering, the skill and talent of the teams behind them or their dynamic capabilities but to the great taste, standing and success of their owners. The soaring prices driven – and I admit this is pure conjecture – not by a noble and enlightened understanding of the core appeal of each stunning car... but rather the conceit of what each ‘custodian’ wanted to project.

Maybe this is just jealousy speaking? Well, yes. I desire a Ferrari F50 on a molecular level, for example. It physically hurts me to think I’ll never drive one again. But it hurts even more that maybe nobody will ever drive one again since Ralph Lauren’s example sold at Monterey for $9,245,000. It’s ironic that many of the greatest cars ever created have become so prized that they’re no longer cars at all. The F50 now a Giallo Fly idol to be worshipped once a year for the rest of time in northern California. How depressing.

But even accepting my own failure to adhere to guiding principles such as “Thou shalt not covet”, I think there’s more going on here. I’ll never understand the deification of cars, but I do understand the slightly sickening message that lay beneath so much of the Monterey coverage: car enthusiast nirvana is solely for the super wealthy. This is complete and utter nonsense. While there are Caterhams, Alpines, well used but still dazzling M3s and 911s, GT-Rs and old Imprezas, and all manner of fantastic cars available, even we paupers can taste heaven.

Forget being a ‘custodian’. Be somebody who enjoys cars as, y’know, cars. And, going back to the Bible for a second, I think it’s Deuteronomy in which Moses passes on God’s most sacred word. “Above all else, my beloved, drive it like you stole it.”

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They’ve always been objects of desire, but forget being a ‘custodian’, be someone who enjoys driving cars...