My father used to pile all us kids into his brilliantly restored 1938 Buick Special Convertible and take off for car meets near and far, my mother praying the whole time that none of us would fall out of the open rumble seat. So when friends and I stumbled across Classic Car night last night in downtown Encinitas, (every third Thursday from May to September, it turns out), I was crazy-ass happy to see the huge collection of parked Woodies, classic Chevy's, hot rods and other vintage vehicles on display. California is the king of American car culture and surfing, and the restored Woodies with surfboards strapped to their roofs seemed to me to be the pinnacle of their intersection. The graphic perfection of the pristine white wheel on the Woodie above reminded me of a beautifully groomed show dog, so carefully looked after that it would be criminal if its feet touched the dirty ground. I hope there's a classic car in my future, and the open road beyond it. Until then, I'll have to make do with this.