Every motorsport fan by now knows the line Steve McQueen utters in Le Mans that "Racing is life, anything before or after is just waiting." For anyone who doesn't love cars, watching that slow-paced passion film tends to prove the statement quite perfectly, though the real-life truth never hit home fully for me, personally, until I spent a full day at Sonoma Raceway watching an entire cadre of passionate enthusiasts driving their hearts out—as I stood around and filmed their fun.
In my career as an automotive journalist, writing about cars typically leads to driving them, though the work begins feeling more like work when I'm stuck on the sidelines—so much so that I typically only attend events where I know I'll get the chance to hop behind the wheel.
When last-minute invitations to this year's return of Monterey Car Week began streaming into my inbox, driving did fit into the mix a fair amount. Unfortunately, getting to and around Monterey requires navigating the prohibitively expensive plans that the world's wealthiest enthusiasts pull together entire calendar years in advance.
I quickly realized that camping could serve as an alternative option but even the closest state and national parks to Monterey filled up far before I began searching, which left me scrambling to find anywhere to stay in my 1998 Mitsubishi Montero closer than a full hour's drive—in normal times—outside of town. Luckily, despite the last-minute fumbling, I managed to wrangle my way into a campsite at WeatherTech Raceway, more commonly known as Laguna Seca. And during a whirlwind tour of events like Porsche Werks Reunion, The Quail, and an exclusive ridealong in the forthcoming Lucid Air, waking up to the sound of vintage Ferraris racing at 7 AM sounded pretty perfect to me.
Coordinating Logistics At Laguna Seca
Best of all, camping at Laguna Seca seems incredibly affordable compared to the cheapest hotels in the area, which all ran over $500 per night by the time I began searching. Sure, San Jose (an hour away) might have done the trick but I needed to be in closer to the action, especially given the plentiful warnings I received about traffic around Monterey and Pebble Beach throughout the festivities.
Laguna Seca's website doesn't make planning a visit easy, though, and multiple staff members I spoke with told me the system would receive a planned overhaul soon. Calling the reservation office proved the most efficient means of communication, so I locked down a spot in the General Camping for two nights at $57 per night—still pretty steep (and even moreso since I only planned to camp for one night). But even playing the journalist-writing-a-story card, they wouldn't sell me a single night, for no discernable reason that anyone could coherently explain.
And fair warning: tickets to attend the full Motorsports Reunion weekend are required to make a camping reservation.
Finding A Flat Spot
In person, getting into the General Camping area proved equally as perplexing, with a complete lack of maps or signage and some serious confusion on behalf of the staff attempting to steward traffic around and through the track's facilities. Eventually, however, I received a rough sketch on letter-sized printer paper from the fourth or fifth person past the entry gate, which dubiously pointed me towards a very hilly region just to the north, as best I could tell, of the track's famous Corkscrew section.
The hilly terrain that makes Laguna Seca such an exciting racing circuit, where navigating the Corkscrew successfully requires a fair amount of blind trust and famously, spotting a specific tree from the top, also means that the General Camping section includes very little flat terrain for tents, cars, or camper vans. Though mostly empty, in terms of humans per square foot, all the level ground gets quickly swooped up by early arrivals. On the other hand, all the paved RV spots looked perfectly level to me (or near enough), though concrete doesn't allow for adequate tent stake use when the winds start gusting (and gust they did, all night long).
Unfortunately, instead of the Montero, I ended up driving to Monterey Car Week in a much more appropriate E36-generation BMW M3. Appropriate, that is, for turning heads, which it did successfully—less so for car camping. A CEL on the Montero graduated from perplexing to all-out concerning at the top of the Grapevine on the drive up but as a plus, the M3 did force me to camp in a small backpacking tent, rather than sleeping in the back of the truck, so I required less in the way of level square-footage.
Waking Up To Fog Not Ferraris
I pitched the tiny tent, set up a table, and made myself a fairly delicious sandwich (a bit of a letdown after the swanky food served at The Quail, but definitely tasty enough for camping). Just down the little hill from my tent, two photographers named Ken and Miles (you can't make this stuff up) ambled over and started a conversation about their careers shooting at Laguna Seca. Turns out, it might have helped to have done all this before, as Ken proved with his trailer hitch-mounted motorcycle that allowed him to get around Laguna Seca and the surrounding region with ease. A bit of Laphroiag, a few Guinesses, and one incredible sunset later, I slipped into the tent and conked out.
The next morning, I awoke to dense fog instead of vintage Ferraris, unable to even see the track about 300 feet away. But while boiling water for coffee, I began to hear the roars and whines of classic racers from the paddock. Time to pack up and get moving.
No Credentials But A Little Luck
Fumbling my way around Laguna Seca in the fog, I kept asking everyone how to find the media center so I could grab my credentials and photography vest. Because zero of the guests or staff I encountered actually knew the answer, I stumbled my way somewhat luckily into the beginnings of a Bring a Trailer reunion taking place that morning featuring cars bought and sold on the famous auction site. Ferraris, Datsuns, Austin-Healeys, BMWs, and even a Unimog rolled up and parked, while the buyers and sellers presumably discussed their (raucously overpriced, if recent) bids on their dream cars.
The photographer vest and credentials meant that I'd receive padlock codes allowing acces to a network of gates that afford clearer views of the vintage racing action. But until then, with only my poorly oriented, clearly hand-drawn General Camping map as my guide, I acquainted myself with Laguna Seca by driving and walking through three different parking lots, most of the infield and paddock, and the hills to the west of the grid. At the very least, if I ever return, I'll know where just about everything is located.
A Good Tour Requires A Tour Guide
Instead of catching the racing, I received a solid education on how much work all these enthusiasts put into their day or two of racing during Motorsports Reunion. Various classes, cars of all shapes and sizes, tents, trailers, and entire teams enable the on-track action captured by photographers and social media personalities throughout the festivities. No surprise, Porsches made up a fair percentage of the crowd but the sheer variety of vintage racecars and support staff impressed, nonetheless.
Finally Finding A Photographer's Vest
By the time I finally located the official Media Center and sorted out my photographer's vest, credentials, and gate codes, I had about 20 minutes left before I needed to head into Monterey proper to ride in the Air with Lucid VP of Design and Brand Derek Jenkins. I opened up the closest gate just in time to watch an incredible fleet of open-top classics blast by at top speed (aka not very fast), their narrow tires squealing, tiny engines screaming, and drivers tightly clutching thin-rimmed steering wheels. Allards, Triumphs, Porsches, and Lotuses cranked around Turn 3 (maybe, if my map serves) with four-wheel drifts almost de rigeuer. Again, unfortunately, my credentials came with no race program and the area's terrible cell phone reception left me entirely clueless as to the class or grouping I found myself shooting.
History In Motion
Hustling back to the media center to return the vest before my departure, a group of open-wheeled racecars from the early 20th century caught my eye. The lineup looked more like a museum display, complete with a hilariously primitive motorcycle and mustachioed chaps in pristine white monkey suits and leather helmets crawling around underneath. Modern art? Nope, as I later spied online, these maniacs actually raced their cars (again, not empirically fast but don't ever doubt the stones—not to mention the sheer knowledge—required).
Well Worth A Quick Delay
After dropping off the vest, I found myself nonetheless forced to make another quick stop on the way back to the Bimmer when I spied a lineup of icons from the glory days of IMSA rumbling out of the paddock towards a Lexus pace car. The infield buildings at Laguna Seca wear plenty of advertisements and racing-oriented signs, including a number quoting McQueen in Le Mans. For spectators, the signs can almost feel a little antagonizing, since watching and waiting combine torturously well. But still, who wouldn't stop to witness a screaming warmup lap and the beginnings of actual racing as a bevy of absurdly wide Porsche 935s interspersed with a few American monsters put the earlier queues to shame?
One More Pebble Beach Stop
After the Lucid Air ridealong, I swung by a house rented by insurer-turned-lifestyle brand Hagerty to experience a little taste of the new DriveShare program. For a select group of journalists, Hagerty brought out a small fleet of dream cars for test drives—despite my time crunch, the opportunity to hop behind the wheel of two cars I've always loved proved too great. I ended up first in a 1964 Chevrolet Corvette with the 327ci V8 because a few of the journos on site admitted they couldn't drive stick (really, guys?) after spotting the Hurst cue-ball shifter, not to mention the ostensible warning about a lightened flywheel and the need to wind that 327 up nice and high. Next, given the choice between a 21-window Volkswagen Bus, an original Tesla Roadster, a Citroen 2CV, and a legit DeLorean, I made the hard choice to jump in the Tesla progenitor (the 2CV was a very close second).
If two friends getting married later that evening in Los Angeles hadn't dictated my departure, the rest of the offerings would have made for a wonderful afternoon. As things ended up, I enjoyed the stark contrast between driving the C2 with incredibly light steering, a gorgeously short shifter, and plenty of body roll to go along with the torquey V8, and then the Lotus—I mean Tesla—which employs a single forward gear, even more torque, and apparently, plastic pop rivets holding the whole body together. If concerns about build quality surround the current Tesla Models S, 3, X, and Y conversation these days, even the most minuscule little crack on our cruise of Pebble Beach's famous 17 Mile Drive felt like an earthquake in the Roadster. But thanks to taut steering and suspension, plus gobs of instantaneously available power, the Roadster still managed to produce an impressively fun drive on the smoother sections.
I stretched out time to squeeze in the Roadster by convincing myself that an M3 blasting top-speed back to LA might allow me to make the wedding in time, as opposed to my ETA in the slower Montero. I missed Sunday's official Pebble Beach Concours d'Elegance—turns out, the rest of the world doesn't orient their entire summer schedule around Monterey Car Week—but at the very least, learned that camping at Laguna Seca offers a way to coordinate a weekend on the cheap.
Next time, I also know to make a reservation for a graded campsite, get settled early, and bring a motorcycle or scooter to help cut down on transportation times both around Laguna Seca and in Monterey proper. And weaving down the I-5 freeway in the E36, I did get a little taste of racing to help compensate for all the traffic, parking, and wandering of the previous two days that included so much of what Steve called the rest of life, or just waiting.
Sources: whatsupmonterey.com, co.monterey.ca.us, weathertechraceway.com, driveshare.com, and pebblebeachconcours.net.