EXHUASTION COMPOUNDED MY ANXIETY AS I DROVE TO GANS CREEK RECREATION AREA ON A SUNDAY MORNING IN SEPTEMBER. I DIDN’T KNOW MUCH ABOUT THE CAR FANATICS I WAS GOING TO MEET, BUT I HAD A FEELING THEY WOULD USE FOUR-WHEEL JARGON SUCH AS “TURBO” AND “CARBURETOR” AND “V12.” I PROBABLY SHOULD HAVE MARATHONED TOP GEAR INSTEAD OF GOING OUT SATURDAY NIGHT.
Cars with untold amounts of money, sweat, ego and personalized parts poured into them occupied almost every space in the back parking lot. Automobile enthusiasts from all over Boone County popped hoods and pointed at engines like something out of a Pennzoil commercial. I drive a 2010 Hyundai Elantra with a massive dent on the back bumper, and I’m not sure how to even change my own oil. I decided to park in a separate lot. CoMo Car Culture is a group of car enthusiasts based in Columbia, and they were granted permission to use Gans Creek Recreation Area for their annual September showcase. As I drove to the park, I kept thinking about The Fast and The Furious and how some Dominic Torettotype would make me do a highly dangerous or illegal rite of passage if I was going to write a story about their renegade gang. I wasn’t really sure what to expect, but I envisioned a lot of gauge earrings, Monster Energy and vape cigarettes. I wasn’t wrong, but I certainly wasn’t totally right, either. The weather was warm and sunny, which resulted in a sizable turnout for the group (which currently totals more than 1,171 Facebook members), and the overwhelming majority of the 250 parking spaces at Gans Creek were occupied by member-owned cars. The makes weren’t anything jaw dropping: Nissan, BMW, Mitsubishi, Dodge, Volkswagen, Jeep. There were even Hyundais, which made me regret parking so far away. People weren’t ogling the types of cars; they were pointing out engine parts and modifications to the outside of the car, which I found out is called the body. The atmosphere was informal; members parked their cars, popped their hoods and walked around the lot to
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talk to other members. Conversations happened in clusters around someone’s engine, people pointed out work that had been done and discussed new parts or regaled those within an earshot of past motor vehicle escapades. Here’s just one of the overheard conversations they were having, which I hardly understood: “Efficiency is the key. Efficiency and displacement.” “That’s why they have direct-injected motors nowadays. There are 2-liters banging 420, their wheels from the factory. That’s how you do it, man.” “The new f***ing Mustang with the 4-cylinder is faster than the V8 with the tailing car. It’s like Bye! Bye! Bye!” I would stand around these circles and awkwardly nod. My vocabulary generally consisted of noncommittal terms such as “mmmm…” and “ahh” and “word.” I felt like the chess team captain who accidentally sat down at the jock lunch table. Big Daddy’s BBQ was on hand serving up orders out of its food truck. The group showcased a disc jockey as well, DJ Vanquish, who played synchronized mashups of Rihanna, Journey, The Outfield and G-Eazy, among many others. The tan, dark-haired DJ didn’t say much into his microphone. He just mixed tracks and let the music play. DJ Vanquish is apparently a member of CCC himself, but his car recently caught fire. He was too busy mixing tracks, and it was too loud near his booth, so I never got the full story. Toddlers waddled all over the parking lot with their parents. I got the feeling this wasn’t the first time most of them were surrounded by cars. One little girl in a pink stroller barely flinched when an engine revved about 3 feet away from her tiny head.
A large, furry German Shepherd named Trouble split time between patrolling the lot, meeting new friends and panting in the shade. Some members sold water bottles and black-and-white shirts with “CoMo Car Culture” written over the Missouri state outline. Brandon Qualls and Somrith Lem, founding members and two Facebook group admins, watched over the event like proud parents.
“AS LONG AS YOU LIKE CARS…”
Qualls and Lem started the group almost three years ago, toward the end of 2013. The original group was called ShowMe Fresh and was primarily a Facebook group for people to talk about their interest in various cars. Lem was eager for the group to grow, so he added any random person who wanted to be in the group, a practice Qualls quickly nixed. They created a new Facebook group called CoMo Car Culture and started being more selective about who is allowed to join. The two say there is no strict membership criteria. “As long as you like cars and have a passion for it, you’re more than welcome to join CoMo Car Culture,” Lem says. He and Qualls say they generally do some light vetting of new members who want to join, checking their Facebook pages to make sure they actually like cars and aren’t robots. Members do not pay dues and are not subject to any sort of initiation. I said I was writing this article and was let in the group immediately, and I have not been forced to fight/race/kiss anyone. These guys really like cars. At one of their Wednesday night meetings, I heard a big guy with a dark beard and a purple sweatshirt tell a story about a “meth-head” who hit Purple Sweatshirt’s car with his vehicle. Purple PREVIOUS SPREAD: PHOTOS COURTESY OF SHUTTERSTOCK