Back from Berdoo

Each year about this time, the City of San Bernardino, affectionately known as Berdoo, hosts the Route 66 Rendezvous -- a unique style of classic car show wherein some 1900 cars drive and park, park and drive, drive and park, and so on, for 4 days, all the while revving their engines (with open headers) in some sort of my-engine-can -make-more-noise-than-yours competition while some 500,000 spectators walk, waddle, sit, stand, mingle, photograph, film and swap "I used to have one of those" stories and consuming literal truckloads of artery-clogging bacon-wrapped grilled-onion-covered sausages, hot dogs, tri-tip steak sandwiches, Johnsonville Brats cooked on the world's largest outdoor grill (in truth, a semi-trailer-long grill, towed by a semi-tractor), a variety of other carnival-style eats ranging from cotton-candy to ice cream to caramel corn and candied almonds, and guzzling immeasurable quantities of Pepsi (they had the beverage contract), water, energy drinks, beer (only sold and consumed within a chain-link fenced area reminiscent of the smoking cages at the airport), and inhaling enough carbon-monoxide to justify their bizarre behavior.

Unca' Buck and I made our annual trek, imposing on the hospitality of the Grogans (got to see David, Shannon and kids, too), and shot a few pictures.  We were also able to team up for a bit with Daniel and Hillary who were then subjected to my non-stop verbiage on the differences between the trim on the Tri-Five Chevys; the Bel-Airs v. the Impalas v. the 210s; the sedan v. the coupe v. the hardtop; the small-block v. the big-block Chevy V-8s; and so on.  All of this over the roar of the informal open header competition.  Hillary got a headache which saved them more of my torturous explanations.

As you've noticed, if you've been following my blog, I am the proud owner of a yet unrestored 1961 Impala 2-door hardtop (Bubbletop) with a 265-inch small block with a 4-bbl and Powerglide; therefore, I focussed my camera mostly on other '61 Impalas that I saw, unless they had been ruined by converting them to low-riders with teeny-tiny wheels and ridiculous air suspension systems that either make them sit lower in the back than in the front (very east coast, yuck) or worse, that make each corner go up and down independently like some sort of malfunctioning robot trying to step over some doggie doo doo. (They make me wanna puke.)

The red and white Impala wasn't actually in the event when I shot it but was parked in a lot adjacent to where we parked; so I took advantage and snapped a few shots.  The engine (which got posted later and is up above this post) is a big block Chevy, a 502, that was installed in a 1954 Chevy, but looked so good I had to shoot it. Now, scroll down for the photos.