Edmunds CarPool

Takahashi: There was just enough space for Kurt's stuff in the trunk, so we headed into the chilly Santa Monica air, bound for Monterey. The Thunderbird developed some minor power surges as we powered up Pacific Coast Highway, something I attributed to the overly dense air. Fortunately, it went away once the air warmed up. My biggest fear, -- overheating -- never became an issue on the drive up as the weather remained cool and traffic stayed clear.

We pulled onto the 101 North from Oxnard and kept the speedo right around 70 mph. The tach hovered right around 2,800 revs -- nice. At that point we latched onto an old 911 racecar with the most glorious exhaust note. It left the highway just past Santa Barbara and gave us a great downshift snarl as he exited the highway. We saw him parked in the paddock later at the track.

We refueled in Santa Maria, but the Thunderbird only took about 10 gallons into its 20-gallon tank.  I was shocked when I ran the numbers -- 16.5 mpg. I was expecting 10 mpg. I decided to hand the keys over to Kurt at that point.

Niebuhr: It didn't really dawn on either of us what we were actually doing until we cleared Ventura and headed past Mussel Shoals. This was no run to Cars and Coffee, this was the start of a serious and memorable road trip.

It took me about an hour to adapt to the Thunderbird's preferred seating position. Because of the bench seat, you can't just sit and face square to the dashboard; instead, you position yourself at the far right of the bench, placing your right arm atop the door while you cant your legs towards the transmission tunnel. In short, you sit as a passenger like you would in a hot tub. It's more than comfortable, it's wonderful.

Fast forward two and a half hours and I'm stuffing my face with powdered donuts outside a gas station, Mark hands off the keys and walks over to the passenger side. This is a big deal and I'm incredibly grateful for the chance to drive what is essentially a family heirloom.

Pulling into Laguna Seca, we grabbed a campsite and set up shop. With no real plan, we headed out to grab our various tickets and passes for a weekend's worth of activities. After dinner at the Crown and Anchor and a walk through RM Auction's amazing collection we returned to our campsite well after dark.

Under the glow from a newly purchased flashlight, Mark produced a bottle of Balvenie Doublewood that he had stashed deep in his trunk. A toast was in order and the only person that came to mind was Mark's grandfather; the original owner of the car we had just driven 350 miles in up the coast of California. To Toyo-san!

Takahashi: I slept like the dead. The morning was chilly but certainly bearable in shorts. The thick ocean air had the same effect as a light drizzle, which set me into motion, frantically trying to dry off the Thunderbird. Any moisture tends to find its way into the paint cracks, causing even bigger fissures. All-in-all, trackside camping was a fun experience, at least for me...

Niebuhr: I slept like the dead too, albeit like the dead floating in a swimming pool. Apparently, as it was later pointed out to me, I had installed my rain fly improperly. This wouldn't have been a big deal if it wasn't for the dense fog that settled in over night. The dew settled on the rain fly, which soaked through to the tent, which in turned soaked through and rained down water all over the inside of my tent. Yuck.

Wandering the paddock is what it's all about at the Rolex Motorsports Reunion. Access to the cars is amazing. I walked up to and around every car that caught my eye. While some are simply parked awaiting their turn on track, most are in various states of teardown. If you love old racing machinery, this is where it's at. I also made a point to be in the exhaust blast of as many cars warming up as possible. Ever hear a Bugatti Type 35 warming up from three feet away? There's not much else like it.

Takahashi: Kurt and I split up just before lunch. I headed to a very exclusive lunch with one of my heroes and Motorsports Reunion honoree, Dan Gurney. Yes, that Dan Gurney -- more on that another day. Still glowing from my Gurney lunch, Kurt and I headed for Concorso Italiano. Parking was backed up pretty far from the entrance, but the Tbird caught a flagman's eye and he pulled us out of the line.

He said, "Nice car. You know, there should be some spots opening up closer to the entrance. Go ahead and follow the cart path and someone will find you a spot."

Classic Detroit iron like the Thunderbird was a relative rarity in Monterey that weekend, and it served us as well as a badge that read, "I'm with the band". We ended up parking about 20 steps away from the Concorso entrance and drew more interest than the countless Bentleys and exotic Italian cars surround us. I love this car.

Concorso itself was a bit of a disappointment. There was a noticeable lack of classic Ferraris, replaced with more contemporary models that, at least for us, were far less interesting. We left soon after and headed back to the Crown and Anchor.

Look for Part 2 tomorrow.