“Are you judging cars?” the man asked. “It must be hard.”

Well, yes and no.

The man had just seen me and my official Hot August Nights guide and escort Ron Maxwell, giving a couple of cars the once-over at the Saturday Show ‘n Shine in downtown Reno.

We were almost an hour and a half into the process, checking for any late arrivals on the south end of the venue near the river. I wanted to be sure I’d seen all the entrants.

Ron has been my escort before. He knows the drill. I cover the entire field at least twice, picking a short list of potential candidates along the way, then rechecking and making the final choice.

To answer the man’s question, yes, it is hard because there’s always a lot of great cars to choose from. No, because I love doing it and I have my own set of judging criteria to help.

Car show judging ranges from the serious, points-driven concours where issues like matching serial numbers, originality and other arcane matter greatly to People’s Choice where the public attending the show vote and choose.

It can be a crap shoot. If the judge is knowledgeable there’s little to argue about in the concours. If not, well, it’s been known to cause arguments and hard feelings.

People’s Choice is no better. Years ago Reno hosted another car show in July, Sports Cars and All that Jazz. An award was given by public vote to the best car from each country.

The winning German entry? A replica of a pre-war Mercedes Benz 500K. Nice looking car, but it was all fiberglass and American running gear. There wasn’t a piece on it that had been anywhere near Germany. The public didn’t know any better, but the owners of some very nice REAL Porsches parked nearby could be excused if they felt slighted.

I know how they might have felt. Years ago, I took my Morgan (a vintage English sports car) to the annual West Coast meet. The car had just been taken apart and painted. It will never look that good again and was much admired.

Now, in previous years, I’d always received some award, once or twice a first, but usually a second or third in my class. Everyone thought I’d just upped my game and told me so, but at the awards banquet that night I was skunked and many were shocked

I wasn’t there when they judged my car. Was there some question of originality I wasn’t there to answer? Was there a personal problem with one of the judges. Who knows?

I had a talk with myself and decided I was starting to take this all a little too seriously.

Now I just try to enjoy myself and the car. It’s all about the ride. Getting myself and the car there and back on a journey that can be hundreds of miles. Having a good time.

I take this experience with me when I judge at Hot August Nights. It’s something I’ve done for most of the twenty-odd years of the event and I look forward to it.

Judges at the Show ‘n Shine told to use their own set of rules. Which car caught your eye? Which would you like to take home? Did you see the one just like you learned to drive in?

It’s all valid. At one of the early shows a woman picked a car because it was just like her high school boyfriend’s, she said, and she had some fond memories of that back seat.

I’ve yet to encounter my high school car, a 1957 Ford Fairlane 500 convertible, but I’ve seen a lot of great cars and met a lot of people judging the Show ‘n Shine.

Biases are allowed and I have them.

Does the car have a For Sale sign on it? (Actually, against HAN rules.) Sorry. Or if you just bought it already finished, I’m passing and looking for owners who are committed to their cars.

I don’t like seeing the ubiquitous Chevy V-8 in anything but a Chevy. Yes, I know, it’s a great engine for which a world of after-market parts are available, but a Chevy engine sitting in a Ford? I’m walking past. Others will like the car and it will probably get an award, but not from me.

On the other hand, two years ago a great ’38 Pontiac coupe got my nod. In the engine bay a great looking, hot Pontiac engine. This owner stayed true. Not the easy route, but one to be respected.

Brand loyalty and rivalry has always been part of the car culture and should be given its due. It’s encouraging to see a trend toward putting Fords in Fords, Mopars in Mopars, etc. It’s not the easy way to go, but as the owner of a ’56 Ford pickup from Phoenix told me at this year’s pre-event at South Lake Tahoe, “We don’t like cross-dressing.”

I also admit to a weakness for the hot rods and 50’s customs. Later muscle cars are great. I lusted after GTO’s and others in my youth and would still like to own one, but I like the older iron.

That goes for the all-too-common fiberglass kit cars of the ’32 Ford roaster and others. They’re great looking and again I’d love to have one, but you have to give real steel bodies their due.

The issue that stumps them all, however, is the story of the car and its owner. What I call “sweat equity” is important, as is emotional attachment.

A few years ago, a man from the Sacramento area with a ’56 Ford, two door got the KOLO trophy. It was nice, but not spectacular. The paint had been flamed and he had a nice 351 Cleveland sitting in the engine bay.

It turned out he hadn’t been all that wild about the car to begin with either, but his wife liked it. He built it for her, doing most of the work himself, down to drawing the flames.

She died just as it was finished, never seeing it entered at Hot August Nights. When I walked up to him and handed him the ribbon, tears rolled down his cheeks.

I’m sure when some saw the car rolling through the parade with our banner on it, they might have puzzled about the choice over cars with tens of thousands of dollars of work in customizing and paint. If so, it wouldn’t be the first time.

I saw the car this year parked downtown. It still looks good and I’m still happy with my choice.

This year my short list included a great looking Avanti and a pair of gorgeous cars owned by two brothers from Gilroy and Hollister, California, a ’37 Chevy and a ’41 Plymouth, but my award went to a car probably overlooked by many.

It was a 1940 Ford coupe. At first glance it looked OK, but another weakness of mine is the old Ford flathead engine. So, I took another look and met Bill Huetteman, its owner and I heard the story.

The car had been a “tanker” for moonshine runners in North Carolina, the veteran of many a late night chase through back roads with federal revenue agents on its tail. If you’ve ever seen the Robert Mitchum movie “Thunder Road” you know what I’m talking about.

It’s owner’s long career on the other side of the law came to an end a few years ago when the feds raided his still and seized his cars, including the old Ford.

Bill bought it at auction, brought it home to Fort Bidwell, California and decided to restore it.

Today it looks pretty much as it did when outrunning the revenuers. The 40 year old paint has been brought back by the work of a friend who is usually found working on Ferraris and now gleams, but alongside $10,000 dollar paint jobs hardly turns heads.

The original mohair upholstery hardly gives it away, but underneath the dash is a switch to kill the brake lights, so John Law can’t tell which turn you took and though the flathead still purrs innocently, the high compression heads and the three Stromberg carburetors hint at its potential.

The tank that once hid 40 gallons of moonshine behind the seat is missing. The feds saw to that before they auctioned it, but in the trunk
are a couple of cases of Mason jars.

Nice touch.

Bill has other cars, but this is the one he brought. When I walked up to congratulate him Saturday morning, he beamed. “I’ve been getting hammered all week by people looking at that engine and complaining it’s not stock although the car looks like it should be,” he told me.

They never bothered to hear the story. I’m glad I did. I remember every car and every owner I’ve ever selected and I won’t forget Bill and his moonshine runner.

Great car with a great story. Thanks, Bill.