Amelia Island: For fans of classic automotive delicacies, this name is the US East Coast's dazzling answer to the Pacific's Pebble Beach. Here, among the luxurious second homes of long-time golfing retirees, a Concours d'Elegance is held every year that is in no way inferior to its counterpart in faraway California.
The fact that the organizers of this elegant event in Florida also know how to have fun is impressively demonstrated to anyone who crosses the street. Shielded by jungle-like giant trees, another fairway opens up there, offering a day-long stage for the flotsam and jetsam of the mobile throwaway society: the Amelia Island lemon badness competition. "Concours d'Lemons shows celebrate the oddball, mundane, and truly awful of the automotive world!" cheers an accompanying text - in other words, the curious, everyday and truly awful representatives of the automotive world are celebrated here.
The same applies here for original and obergeleckt as for Waldi in front of the butcher's shop: unfortunately, we have to stay outside. Outlaw is in - the outlaws, the outlaws of the old car scene drive ahead. As close as possible to the end of biological decay with optically analog but fully functional mechanics: Today, in the era of Note 1 oversaturation, this is as cool as it is logical. It is remarkable how this counter-culture sometimes blossoms: Pseudo-patina with artificial corrosion and virtual salt lake craquelure at the price of a top paint job? It does exist. And right here.
The Concours d'Lemons is a kind of counter-event to the established Q-tip orgy of multi-million euro gems on the coastal golf course of the Ritz-Carlton Hotel next door. Lemons stands for lemons. And is a globally recognized synonym for extremely lousy cars. The original class of junk cars is right in the middle of it all: worn-out specimens of once ridiculed to the point of being snubbed bread-and-butter vehicles. But these original Lemons have now been dangerously decimated. In fact, such decayed old metal mountains, which have been bravely saved over the decades by incorrigible image ignoramuses out of derision, contempt and lack of spare parts, are a dying species at this event.
The second faction that joined the Concours d'Lemons a few years ago are the eternal staircase jokes of US motoring history. AMC Gremlin, Ford Pinto, Yugo, Chrysler TC by Maserati: loser types that once failed magnificently because they wanted to be too cheap or too different or both - it's clear that everyone laughs along in the face of such tragic comedy.
An amusement that does not last indefinitely, however. A Cadillac Cimarron, for example, this Opel Ascona C from the early eighties covered in circus-horse-like sugar, is funny once, and even a second and third time. But then the "Joke" becomes a bit thick, and it soon becomes apparent that the fleeting commodity of a trash icon is not a renewable resource. Guys like the 1958 Edsel Corsair, whose worn-out loser nimbus has gradually given way to a recognized classic prestige, would sing a song about it. If they could.
The first effect of this development: as indispensable attributes, Gremlin, Yugo and co. have long since generated a bored anticipation like Kurt Felix once did when the tenth cream cake was about to land on his face. The second effect is that models appear whose ridiculousness has to be laboriously sung about. The meticulously maintained Fiat 131, which adorns the lead photo of this article, looks like a corny joke in need of explanation. Especially as the technically extremely simple Turin shares the "Needlessly Complex Italians" class with a no less virginal Lancia Beta Coupé.
In general, the organizers seem to be slowly becoming entangled in forced comedy when it comes to the wording of the competition classes. One is called "Soul Sucking Japanese Appliance", another "Unimitigated Gaul" - in which, incidentally, an English Vauxhall Velox from 1959 also competes; not exactly a mark of US-American geographic competence.
Although more spectacular, the car category that forms the dregs of the condition scoreboard at the Concours parody on the US Caribbean coast is even more difficult. This refers to the junk cars with artificially bred disaster consistency. Over-decorated with all sorts of garbage and bric-a-brac, covered with more or less original messages and battered with kicks, they make a highly acclaimed appearance before the strict judges.
There, their great success impressively demonstrates that the parade of embarrassments is now as far removed from its endearing basic idea as a bombed-out Fiat Regata vacuum diesel from the Villa d'Este. It seems to be only a matter of time before some filthy rich joker will take to the track in a Ferrari 275 GTB ruined by the end of time to surf the joke wave in the most decadent manner. The revolution eats its children, becomes full, fat and lazy, wealthy and self-satisfied - why should the once so charming lemon casserole fare any differently than a niche party or the punk movement?
The 2023 overall winner proves that traditional values only send out tired signs of life at the Concours d'Lemons: the title of "Worst of Show" was won by a narrow margin by a small quad bike that its owner Wayne Francis from Jacksonville, Florida, body-sided with an overturned construction site toilet. That's creative, but also pretty clunky. And above all, very, very far removed from the initial idea of lemony classic car anarchism.
A few years ago, Mr. Britt Mann would certainly have taken the top prize. He retrieved a 1975 Dodge Dart from the scrapyard in a largely burnt-out condition - and got it running again while retaining the patina formed by fire damage. After all, this blatant performance was enough for second place this time - and, incidentally, for maximum homage from the audience: no other lime garnered as much applause as the tires-covered burnt ruin from Brooksville. This shows remarkably clearly that the Concours d'Lemons is still able to withstand the establishment's sour grapes.
