Old cars and new friends. Car shows can be frustrating for AMC owners. While rows of generic Corvettes and Mustangs attract scores of onlookers, often they are relegated to some side lot next to the BMW Isettas and that one guy with an Avanti. Then, they endure countless people who either don't recognize their cars, or worse, make fun of them.
But once a year, there is a show where they can proudly display their Ramblers, Gremlins, and Matadors, without muscle car owners laughing at them or confused spectators asking "what year Plymouth is this?" The American Motors Owners Association National Convention is a place where AMCs get the respect they deserve.
Most car shows aren't that interesting to me. Once you've seen one split-window Sting Ray with an old guy in sitting in a camp chair next to it, you've seen them all. I also feel this weird sort of tension, as if these men all secretly want me to start an argument with them, so they can prove why their car is harder/better/faster/stronger than all the other ones there. However, I found the 2015 AMO Convention to be quite the opposite.
The sense of machismo and rivalry typical of classic cars is seemingly absent, replaced with a feeling of "we're all in this together." The owners seem happy just to have each other, as if there is some unspoken bond that unites them all. Considering that in 1968 Ford built over 100,000 more Mustangs than AMC built total cars, they may be right. As one man put it, "All AMCs are rare; we have to stick together!"
But once a year, there is a show where they can proudly display their Ramblers, Gremlins, and Matadors, without muscle car owners laughing at them or confused spectators asking "what year Plymouth is this?" The American Motors Owners Association National Convention is a place where AMCs get the respect they deserve.
Most car shows aren't that interesting to me. Once you've seen one split-window Sting Ray with an old guy in sitting in a camp chair next to it, you've seen them all. I also feel this weird sort of tension, as if these men all secretly want me to start an argument with them, so they can prove why their car is harder/better/faster/stronger than all the other ones there. However, I found the 2015 AMO Convention to be quite the opposite.
The sense of machismo and rivalry typical of classic cars is seemingly absent, replaced with a feeling of "we're all in this together." The owners seem happy just to have each other, as if there is some unspoken bond that unites them all. Considering that in 1968 Ford built over 100,000 more Mustangs than AMC built total cars, they may be right. As one man put it, "All AMCs are rare; we have to stick together!"
This little guy's name was "Nash" after one of the car companies that merged to form AMC. That's his Dad's car behind him.
This is the only place in the world where a 1977 Pacer gets the same attention as a 1969 AMX. Here, 340 horsepower Rebel Machines sit side by side with 112 horsepower Concords. It really is quite a sight to see. Their shared heritage is the great equalizer, bringing together men and women, young and old.
Speaking of the young, it seems AMC is attracting a new generation of enthusiasts. Disgusted by the ridiculously high prices of other classics, millennials have taken to snapping up Hornets, Gremlins, Pacers, Spirits, Concords, and Eagles for only thousands (or even hundreds) of dollars on Craigslist. Many of collectors are younger than the cars they drive, drawn to them simply because they are unique, yet affordable. It seems the values AMC touted long ago are still holding true today.
Of course, nobody ever accused AMC owners of being normal, and the most enthusiastic of them are quite interesting. I was introduced to a man who owned no less than 15 Gremlins. I saw countless people with AMC hats, shirts, coats, and even tattoos. I met a Pacer owner who drove all the way from North Carolina, bringing with him half the drivetrain of an Eagle in back of his car, who then proceeded to install woodgrain trim on the show field just hours before the judging started.
Speaking of the young, it seems AMC is attracting a new generation of enthusiasts. Disgusted by the ridiculously high prices of other classics, millennials have taken to snapping up Hornets, Gremlins, Pacers, Spirits, Concords, and Eagles for only thousands (or even hundreds) of dollars on Craigslist. Many of collectors are younger than the cars they drive, drawn to them simply because they are unique, yet affordable. It seems the values AMC touted long ago are still holding true today.
Of course, nobody ever accused AMC owners of being normal, and the most enthusiastic of them are quite interesting. I was introduced to a man who owned no less than 15 Gremlins. I saw countless people with AMC hats, shirts, coats, and even tattoos. I met a Pacer owner who drove all the way from North Carolina, bringing with him half the drivetrain of an Eagle in back of his car, who then proceeded to install woodgrain trim on the show field just hours before the judging started.
 The Pacer Wagon's wide cargo area is great for hauling parts. |  This woodgrain is actually just shelving paper from Big Lots. |
Even though I don't own an AMC, I considered myself a pretty dedicated enthusiast. After all, I'd made an entire documentary about the Pacer, and I certainly enjoyed learning about the company. But it's easy to feel like an expert when 99% of the population knows nothing about AMC. Here I learned there are people who memorize everything from the yearly changes in chrome door trim to the lines of every 1980s Eagle TV commercial. I realized that even after all my research and reading, I was only a novice; an outsider. Thankfully, these people took me in.
They shared their time and their stories with me. They answered my dumb questions, and didn't insult me for asking. They told me how much they enjoyed my YouTube videos, and invited me to come film their cars. I was blown away by their genuine kindness and generosity. By the end of the weekend, I felt like I was part of the AMC family.
They shared their time and their stories with me. They answered my dumb questions, and didn't insult me for asking. They told me how much they enjoyed my YouTube videos, and invited me to come film their cars. I was blown away by their genuine kindness and generosity. By the end of the weekend, I felt like I was part of the AMC family.
After driving down from Canada, this man decided to find the nearest tattoo parlor and get an Eagle logo on his arm.
I know there are a lot of great car clubs filled with a lot of great people, but there is something different about the AMO. There's this incredible feeling of community, as if they're all part of this big inside joke that the rest of the car world doesn't understand. AMC owners have nothing to prove. They love their cars, they love each other, and they couldn't care less what others think. To them, a '68 Javelin will always be better than a '68 Mustang, not because of any quantitative reason, but simply because it's different. Like I said before, "All AMCs are rare."
Eventually, the show ended, cars were packed up, boxes of parts were stowed away, and the people sadly went their separate ways. Driving home in my Subaru, I already could hardly wait to start making more AMC videos. There is such a rich history here that is just begging to be told. Meanwhile, I'm keeping an eye on Craigslist, too...
Eventually, the show ended, cars were packed up, boxes of parts were stowed away, and the people sadly went their separate ways. Driving home in my Subaru, I already could hardly wait to start making more AMC videos. There is such a rich history here that is just begging to be told. Meanwhile, I'm keeping an eye on Craigslist, too...
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