Last weekend we rode with two Estonian friends in their 1960s Cadillac, to an event called the "American Beauty Car Show." It was being held in a 13th century castle. When we got there we were surprised to see hundreds of cars parked around the fortified walls and out in the fields around it. Even crazier, in this place that would be a national treasure in the states , they parked the good cars, (the ones remodeled especially to be shown), on the inside of the castle grounds.
We knew we were in for something right at the entrance because by a big row of port-a-potties, were cars of every American variety decked out in flags. They weren't Estonian, Russian, or EU flags. They were American, and the vast majority Rebel flags. They were draped over windshields, tied from antennas, and even tied like capes around people's necks. People were all decked out for the occassion too, with boots, some pearl snaps, and some European twists on Western wear. My favorite was the guy with very long hair in a cowboy hat, boots, and a knee length fur coat with the arms cut off, whom we saw head banging later in the night, hat held high.
Apparently, collecting American cars, classic or no, is becoming quite the hobby in Estonia. Of course, they buy muscle cars and that kind of thing, but they buy regular stuff too: 1990s Oldsmobiles, newer Mustangs, Mr. T inspired vans, ordinary minivans, Jeep Cherokees, Wranglers, Suburbans. They'll get anything, as long as it's American.
This is a once a year event, and everyone with an American-built car comes. They bring their tents, as we did, and camp out by their cars. They grill, rev their engines, drink, and listen to a ton of American music. From five in the evening to noon the next day, we heard non-stop everything, from AC/DC, Dolly Parton, Dwight Yokum, to Hanson and (hours of repeated) Ace of Base.
The funny thing was that being American made us minor celebrities by the grill that night; especially, once I mentioned that I grew up in Texas. People were visibly excited about it. It really gave us an avenue to talk to people who might not ordinarily open up to us. For instance, I spoke to one girl about where she should go visit in Texas, life in America, and how she'd seen that money didn't necissarily bring happiness. She and I also got to talk about some deeper matters, like the faith of Johnny Cash, and my own experience with faith and grace.
It was a weird and bizarre night, one that didn't end, even after we tried to go to sleep at 3:30 that morning. All night long people were up singing, playing music, and some Estonian guy was yelling, "Wakey, wakey, eggs and bacey." Being around all those rebel flags, the country music, and revved up engines, it felt a little like home. Or, like your redneck cousins' house that you visit once a year.
