Like entering the skies of another galaxy driving down Ocean Ave into the heart of Wildwood, New Jersey is an experience that automatically leaves you feeling both displaced and awed.
It as if you’ve walked through your wardrobe, or gotten into a casually time-traveling DeLorean, only instead of a fantasy land or the Wild West you’ve ended up in a fringe note of 1960s Vegas inspiration, which can only be as original as the box it came in.
The streets are paved with neon, and some brilliant lounge singer six gin and tonics into his rendition of My Heart Will Go On took a short reprieve to name each beach side motel, in its fake-for-fake’s-sake palm treed glory.
The Biscayne is subtle, a flash of turquoise with a golden star reaching from I to Y. The African Safari is still lit, but outlines of neon animals leave the signage feeling lonely from burnt out bulbs. There’s the Apollo, Pink Champagne, the Cara Mara. We pass dazzling oranges, fritzed out greens and desperate-to-be-loved blues that shout Island Beach Motel, Satellite Motel, and The Bel-Air. It is sensory overload in-onefivemilestretch-carnate, and as dizzying, dazzling, and daring as a three-ring-circus vaudeville act.
But that’s not the best part.
Once your eyes adjust to the neon you realize the real party is in the parking lot. In the tempting and familiar wash of blues and greys there are dozens of car covers, teasing us with white walls and shiny dog-dish hubcaps. But for all that are covered, there are hundreds out to see. From our balcony at the Sun and Surf we spot a brilliant yellow hotrod. Up and down the street revs a first generation Camaro, leaving a pile of smoke where its tires once stood.
Like a cruise in reverse we can drive these stretches of road, keeping our eyes out for parked marvels – classic Mercurys, heavy engined muscle cars, the British sports cars you posted to your bedroom wall. It is an enormous, overwhelming, brightly lit, timeless and endless car party affair, and the whole town is invited.
It doesn’t end there, however. We wake the next morning, before the sun has a chance to clock in, and the neon has not yet clocked out, to the roar of a car parade, heavy idling, the undeniable smell of overheating. We spot ornamented Cadillacs, which fit almost too well in this retro-reality of buzzing pinks and distant ferris wheels, heavy footed gangster cars, and muscle car madness that leaves even the most cynical gearhead drooling.
It is not long before we get to see them all up close – lined up on the boardwalk in the most brilliant display of cars I’ve ever seen. Behind them is a distant ocean, broken by a long stretch of amusement park rides – sky slicing roller coasters, and a sunburst of ferris wheel, enormous and commanding against a grey sky.
The ambiance was perfect. The boardwalk stretched for nearly two miles, past truly old signage, advertising fudge and toffee, to the modern recreation of classic boardwalk games. We passed Pontiacs and Panteras, GTOs and Gremlins. Finally the sun came out, and it all really felt like a scene from the perfect summer beach flick – minus the dancing.
Eventually, just as we were about to make our trek back, the cars all revved up and began to leave the boardwalk. We assumed they’d be making their way to the Convention Center just down the street, but when we finally got there ourselves we learned that the show was officially over. The winners had convened in the circular drive in front of the building, but mostly everyone else had gone back to their respective neon palaces and settled on their balconies or jumped on the busses transporting folks to the Irish Festival, happening the same weekend.
We took a look around the Convention Center, which had a good number of interesting vendors, and got a chance to look at the some three dozen cars that would later go up for auction.
From this writer’s experience to your ears Wildwood hosts an amazing car show. We were a bit disappointed that there wasn’t an official lot show in the end, where we could look at all the cars in one place, but it’s hard to stay upset in the land of neon and boardwalk games. Sunday morning offered us the chance to dip our toes in the water, (about a half mile walk to get there, no joke,) and we drove around the town one last time – a small little place laden with adventure. We saw the beach campgrounds, passed the closed down Neon Museum, and stopped at the Cape May Brewery for a treat (root beer, c’mon! And local brew for home,) before hitting the road.
Whether you’re a gearhead or not, Wildwood welcomes all. Everything sparkles a little more brightly at night, and even the chrome there shines a little extra in the fading summer sun. Make no mistake, we’re going back next year – and hopefully we’ll see you there too.