If you're a fancier of British motorcars (or any old cars), there's a real treat awaiting you. It occurs every September in Stowe, Vermont, one of the great New England getaway destinations. The concept of this gathering began sixteen years ago over a pint of ale in Mr. Pickwick's Restaurant, which is cozily tucked into Ye Olde England Inne in Stowe. Between frothy sips, friends Chris Francis, the inne's owner, and Michael F. Gaetano, discussed their shared enthusiasm for British motorcars. For both men, a dream emerged from where great ideas are born, and the British Invasion is its legacy. It's an event that's far more than a walk through a field of shiny cars. It's a culture-fest during which hard-core, motorcar evangelists stroll from car to car, buy memorabilia in the tents or revel in soft-ribald legends for the crowd. The latter tales, richly embellished, are spiked delightfully with a tongue-in-cheek irreverence. When celebrities come to Stowe, they often stay at Ye Olde England Inne, among them members of the Royal Family, who might be in attendance today, although not noticeably. Today everyone is on equal footing. Distinctive blood lines and heraldic distinctions are checked at the gate. Those in attendance are a patchwork congregation of the devout, British and not, who share an ingrained passion that rubs incessantly for moments like this when nothing else matters. As to who has the best car.... Pshaw! The cars here are all magnificent specimens of a uniquely British art form, and while one may well be better than another, it's all a matter of personal preference. As we wandered about, the cars' owners speak animatedly about their pastime. They buy rare parts from each other, trade items of interest and swap interesting anecdotes of their affairs with their cars. Their devotion goes well beyond mere hobby, passing far over the border of obsession and finally settling near what satisfies the primal itch for perfection. And these cars are perfect, immaculate, impossibly well-maintained examples of an ardent lust for British brands. Bentleys, Aston Martins, Jaguars, Spitfires, MGs, Land Rovers and the proudest of the proud, the stately Rolls Royce, persistently beckon Invaders to "have a look under the bonnet." As we get caught up in the moment it becomes epiphanic. Suddenly, we get it. The British Invasion isn't about cars and a good time alone. It's about a gathering of the enlightened. It's about tapping into a root that empowers our collective souls to admire a technology and quality that is unique to Great Britain. It's about an ageless culture and a way of life. And, as if Merlin himself has waved his wand, we're seized by awe, and for a while--a regrettably short while--those of us of British heritage return to the "Old Country" to bathe in its essence. We're strangely and magically "home." If you're a car enthusiast, this is a New England getaway well worth the trip. This year, it's scheduled for September 15th , 16th and 17th, and for those three days the British invade, and this slice of Vermont becomes a peaceful English countryside full of a magnificent automotive past, the only things missing are the hedgerows. |
