The worst cars make for the best stories
The 24 Hours of LeMans is one of the most elite and storied races in the world. Think of the 24 Hours of LeMons as its evil jalopy-driving twin brother.
The premise for LeMons racing is simple: entrants have to buy, prepare, and decorate their race cars for $500 or less. The low price cap means that only the most desperate cars make it to the starting line and only folks with a great sense of humor participate.
The racing is amateur and no one really cars who crosses the line first. The 24 Hours of LeMons is all about fun – both on and off the track.
I attended the race in Sonoma this past weekend and saw an 80’s themed Ford Mustang with “sponsorships” from Jordache, Atari, and a band called Huey Lewis and the Lose. Another car had rubber chickens attached to the body and was sponsored by “Faster Farms.” An old Toyota hatchback was dressed up as the Oscar Meyer Weinermobile and members of its pit crew wore bulky hot dog suits even when they had to squeeze inside the tight cabin for emergency trackside repairs.
Commit an offense on the track and you’ll be flagged into the pits where a track marshal dressed as Santa Claus will point to a sign that reads, “naughty,” before doling out a penalty.
At noon on the second day, the car that’s been driving the slowest or that’s been taking things too seriously gets ripped apart by a bulldozer in front of a cheering crowd.
Is there a grand prize for all the effort it takes to prepare a car and win a race? Yes there is. It’s fifteen hundred dollars… in nickels.
The 24 Hours of LeMons was completely ridiculous and completely fun. But it also got me thinking about the cars out on the track.
At one point these junkers were pristine new models rolling off the showroom floor and into the hands of their delighted first owners. What’s happened to them in the years since? How many drivers have tended the wheel and where have these cars traveled?
Most people tend to think of cars in 3-4 year increments because that’s how long they own them. Consider the whole lifespan from brand new to barely running, though, and you’ll realize that your car is destined for journeys you’ll never see or experience.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to finish plans for how to turn a Volvo station wagon into a replica of ECTO-1 from Ghostbusters.










