Sipping a cold beer by a warm fire at a brewpub in Monterey, AUTOMOBILE social media editor Chris Bacarella and I take a moment to enjoy our reward after a long day’s work at Pebble Beach. We’ve just ordered our second round, and the soft sounds of the ocean are pierced by the crack of a V-8 smacking the the rev limiter. Downing the suds, we cash out and take to the streets in search of the culprit.
This is Cannery Row, sitting on the coast in Monterey, California. But with everything from Hemi Cudas to Aventadors, it had might as well be Woodward. Friendly hecklers give drivers just enough encouragement to drop the clutch. V-10s, flat-sixes, turbo-fours, all take a crack at laying elevens down the pristine brick patch in the pavement.
The sound of engines yowling and tires squealing echoes and reverberates through the streets and out over the water. As if to answer the call, more fresh metal rolls in. AMG GT, 911, C7 Z06—all the usual suspects waltz through to leave a stamp on the night. But it’s more than just high-dollar entertainment before long, as low-riders, motorcycles, muscle trucks soon come out of the woodwork.
Make enough noise and it isn’t just car guys that hear the call. A police cruiser soon rolls into the scene. Parking just off to the edge of the intersection the officer subtly makes his presence known. With an equal cool, the drivers slip off into the darkness, the wail of open exhaust echoing in their wake. Run along now, children.
Chris and I make our way back to the hotel. From the rooftop we watch as the last remaining cars trickle out of Cannery Row. Before long all we can hear is the persistent rush of the Pacific, and it almost feels like the excitement was a phantom visitation just for us. These are the nights of Monterey Car Week.