The Unofficial Stig: caffeine and octane

This weekend was supposed to be about cars. It certainly wasn't my first pilgrimage to see some steel. Last year I trekked to Hilton Head for the third time and watched a Packard get fished out of a water hazard at the Port Royal Golf Club. The summer before that, I drove all the way from Detroit for the Concours d'Elegance of Michigan. It was 700 miles up, with a cracked windshield and no rear view mirror.

My windshield was clear this time, but that stupid mirror fell off again. I've since decided it's too heavy for its own good. It happened a couple weeks ago, actually, when I lazily romped over what was probably the two-millionth manhole cover I'd pounded in the IS.

But this weekend I was headed to Jekyll Island, one of Georgia's barrier islands that sits about 20 feet above sea level, protecting the port of Brunswick. It's also provided a winter getaway for New England corporate magnates since the late 19th century. Here, the chamber of commerce decided to approve an event I've been looking forward to for months.

Caffeine and Octane, now managed by Cox Communication's automotive arm, has plugged Caffeine and Octane at the Beach since last fall. It's the marketing department's first stab at expanding the Atlanta-based show to more markets. They picked the three-day span of this St Patrick's Day weekend to attack; nearby Savannah's population is known to swell by half a million as the River Street Ankle-Breaking Convention stumbles down every year.

I arrived around noon on Saturday, the spotless cerulean sky left no shelter for a merciless sun, which wasn't helping my sunburn. But it was perfect for a day outside looking at cars. The temperature barely broke 70.

What this weekend meant for local government was a big pay day, with the booth at the entrance to the island ringing its proverbial cash register constantly. Normally quaint, the beach village adjacent to the Jekyll Island Convention Center (where the show was being held) was scattered with cars and wanderers. Jekyll is actually owned by the state government, so new developments are severely restricted in order to preserve the island's natural beauty. There's only one gas station on the island and lodging here is limited to just a handful of hotels and vacation rentals.

My first move after parking near the Beach Village was to find some shelter from the sun. Inside the main hall of the convention center was an odd array of cars ranging from a Ferrari F430 Scuderia to a BMW 550i GT--I like to think the latter was subject of intense event planning contention. God I hope it was. But it soon became clear that if the increased organization of C&O has been apparent in the past couple years, then this weekend on Jekyll Island was the marketing team's magnum opus. Booths inside sold vintage airbrushed motorcycle helmets, line drawings of BMWs drifting, racing accessories, and crocodile driving loafers. Throughout the weekend, seminars were held in various rooms of the convention center (for a fee), with names like Chip Foose headlining the festivities.

Show literature promised 300 cars and a rough head count verified this. It was a much more restrained showing compared to the Atlanta show, but also a chance for neat-car owners in the Georgia and South Carolina low country (and bits of north Florida if we're keeping tabs) to show off their rides. This produced a few notables I hadn't seen before, like a 1958 Bentley that was ordered by a Venezuelan dignitary. The twist in the story is, he never took delivery, so the car eventually found another home in the oil-rich South American country, remaining in that family's ownership until the late 90s.

While we're discussing deviations from the Atlanta show, I'll also note that Jekyll's buzz was largely centered around bespoke hot rods. Those cars earned prime beachfront real estate on the front lawn of the convention center.

One of them, dubbed "La Cucaracha," was a Buick rat rod with a straight-eight set in front like an industrial auger. I can only imagine it made a sound to match. There were two electric vehicles, but no Tesla badges here. One was a banana yellow Volkswagen van; the other, a Honda motorcycle with a data bank sized slab of batteries between rider and handlebars.

Overall, the show's pace and restraint fit the mood of the weekend, and definitely the picturesque setting. Gone was the free-revving and stereo-cranking one might associate with the big city meet, but gone also was a bit of the diversity you'd find in Atlanta. To be fair, there was a Brazilian market Volkswagen Karmann Ghia, which featured unique bodywork more in tune with its amphibious cousin. And the Bentley was special as well, along with the hot rods. But certain cars were missing from the young show, ones which should have been there.

British sports cars were in short supply, save for a Triumph, a Morgan and an Allard; a very special car indeed, but this hardly runs the gamut of a full showing. Gone also were the Italian sports cars of years past--think Lancia, Alfa Romeo, Fiat. Only your standard, contemporary Lamborghinis and Ferraris were on hand, with a Testarossa and DeTomaso mixed in for good measure.

All of this is not to say it wasn't a good show, because the most important thing about Caffeine and Octane was still present on Jekyll: the enthusiasm. People talked to each other, swapped stories and passed along knowledge. There were fans young and old, husbands, wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends and everything in between. Because, at the end of the day, it all goes back to that same love of cars.

Several months later, I took another trip to Jekyll for Points North Atlanta Magazine, which you can read about here.

I parked in the shadows of the Dunwoody MARTA station on the opposite end of Perimeter Mall. Plates in the lot read Gilmer, Fannin, and even Tift--people who traveled hours to converge on the parking lot north of Atlanta.

As I got close to the show area, the crowds grew larger than I'd ever seen at Caffeine and Octane, now the south's largest monthly car show. It's gotten much more organized out of necessity, with Caffeine and Octane officials manning gates to the main show area, deciding who makes it in.

The first car I saw was this 1960s Volvo 122, better known as the Amazon. A legal dispute between motorcycle manufacturer Kriedler restricted the Amazon name to Sweden, but it still prevailed in the United States.

It caught my eye thanks to a recent episode of Wheeler Dealers, where Edd and Mike revamped an old Volvo PV544 they picked up in Oregon. The Amazon carried on the rally heritage of the 544, using the charismatic B18 engine from that car. It proved wildly popular, tallying nearly 700,000 sold worldwide when it finally went out of production in 1970.

It seems like this month's Porsche section had a theme: the 993. Four of the mid-90s 911s were on display here, including the highly-coveted 993 Turbo and a Carrera 4S which is for sale.

Although I just called it the Porsche section, reality is you'll find plenty of other sports cars peppered throughout this part of the parking lot. Most notable? An Alfa Romeo 4C, seemingly rare by design but also from sheer lack of sales numbers. Last year, Alfa only managed to sell around 500 of these.

But rarity is one of the biggest joys for car enthusiasts, and Caffeine and Octane is a great place to get your fix. Plenty of rides fit the bill, from a Lancia Scorpion, to a custom Chevrolet Apache delivery van, to diesel Toyota Hiluxes and even a Honda Beat for sale.

As time marches on, we're continually being reminded something that was once commonplace, maybe even downright undesirable, can become coveted, retro, and downright cool. The mid- to late 1970s saw the last of the true land yachts from Lincoln and Cadillac. Afterwards, the energy crisis and its litigation turned these titans into miserable cars like the Cadillac Cimarron. Several Continentals and Town Cars took parade laps, including one with custom suicide doors.

Perhaps the best example of 70s excess, though, was this bright orange 1976 Cadillac Eldorado convertible. According to the owner, the official color combination is persimmon on tangerine, because it's a Cadillac. And of course, this is how it left the factory floor.

Even though it's still a slab of old American iron in many ways, you won't mistake it for anything but a Cadillac. Air conditioning and cruise control were standard, along with automatic headlights and four wheel disc brakes, which you want, since it weighs 5100 pounds.

Keeping with the orange theme, I ran across this '68 Camaro whose owner did absolutely everything right. Under the hood, chrome covers nearly every surface and massive Edelbrock carbs reach towards the sky. But the paintwork is what really sets this Camaro apart, taking the road-less-traveled with a 1970s air-brushed, late-model hot rod theme.

Other standouts? A 1964 Impala lowrider that turned every head as it rolled past playing Motown. Another? How about a remarkable 4.5-litre 1928 Bentley, valued in the millions.

Scroll further to see some more of my favorites from March. And if you want something a little different, check out my coverage from Jekyll Island and the first annual Caffeine and Octane at the Beach.