How The Other Half Lives, Except Not

I found this image while I was looking for pictures of the 1988 Lincoln Continental. And they say Google is close to the artificial intelligence threshold. Not that real non-artificial intelligences can't be remarkably obtuse or stupid. So what is this? Is this some gathering of California socialites? The day that all your Arab cousins come to visit? Prom night?

No, it's actually an event held by the Texas RROC (which means what you think it means) to celebrate Henry Royce's birthday. You can see the rest of the photos here. I think it's neat. I've never owned a Rolls-Royce and I'm not likely to --- the cars that I really want are too fussy for me to keep running in the middle of Ohio. I'd really like a '94 Flying Spur (not to be confused with that bullshit Phaeton remix from VW-Bentley; the proper Flying Spur is a Silver Spur with the Bentley Turbo RL drivetrain) or perhaps even a late Seraph, if any remain out of the junkyards or Saudi basements. But my personal schedule and finances are going to conspire to keep me from Rolls-Royce ownership in the near future. Still, there is something wonderful and admirable about keeping an old British car going, and that's doubly true if we're talking about a Rolls-Royce. Many of the people who keep the RROC together are working-class folks who are willing to put in a lot of sweat equity to own what they believe to be the finest car ever made. I respect that.

Which reminds me of the wonderful California weekend I spent with a Wraith two-plus years ago.

The days of wine and roses laugh and run away like a child at play Through a meadow land toward a closing door

And so on.