Why the Classic Car Industry Might Be the Smarter Career

By Steven Bell | 11 September 2026

The idea could hardly be simpler.

Find somewhere with enough parking, choose a weekend morning and invite people to bring an interesting motor car. Add coffee, perhaps something to eat, and very little else is required.

Yet from that remarkably uncomplicated formula has developed one of the most significant grassroots phenomena in contemporary car culture.

Cars and Coffee meets now take place across the world. There is no meaningful global total because thousands operate independently, but dedicated directories illustrate the scale. One currently lists more than 360 events across the United States alone, while international Cars & Coffee networks stretch from Britain, France and Italy to Australia, South Africa, Chile, Saudi Arabia and the Philippines.

More importantly, the expression has become generic. A gathering does not need to belong to an organisation called Cars & Coffee to follow the formula.

That is perhaps the secret of its success.

Traditional car shows require considerable organisation. There are entries, judging, display areas, traders, tickets and often months of preparation. A Cars and Coffee meet can simply involve arriving at eight on Sunday morning, parking for two hours, talking to somebody about their car and driving home.

There is rarely any requirement for the car to be particularly valuable, either.

One weekend might bring together a Ferrari F40, Porsche 911, modified Volkswagen Golf, Ford Escort and an Austin-Healey. Elsewhere the emphasis may be JDM machinery, American muscle, supercars, air-cooled Porsches, modern classics or pre-war cars. Some meets deliberately specialise; others regard variety as the entire point.

At South OC Cars and Coffee in California, between 1,000 and 3,000 vehicles can attend a single weekly gathering, ranging from hypercars and vintage machinery to hot rods, pickups, 4x4s and motorcycles.

The locations have become equally diverse.

Cafés and pubs were obvious early hosts, but shopping centres, farm shops, garden centres, hotels, dealerships, country estates, race circuits, industrial estates and other businesses have increasingly discovered that several hundred enthusiasts arriving on an otherwise quiet Sunday morning can be rather good for trade.

Some venues have effectively become destinations because of the cars gathering outside them.

Social media accelerated everything. An enthusiast no longer needs a club committee, mailing list or advertising budget to organise a meet. An Instagram account and a suitable location can establish one remarkably quickly, while photographs from each gathering promote the next.

But popularity has created its own problem.

Almost every successful Cars and Coffee organiser eventually encounters the same individual: the driver who decides that leaving the event requires an audience.

Engines are repeatedly revved. Exhaust valves are opened. Tyres are spun. Cars accelerate unnecessarily onto public roads while spectators stand filming with phones.

Occasionally it ends considerably worse.

Cars have left meets sideways, crossed carriageways, mounted kerbs and collided with other vehicles. Street racing and aggressive driving can migrate onto surrounding roads. For residents who happen to live nearby, the romantic idea of enthusiasts gathering over coffee can sound rather different when high-performance cars begin arriving early on a Sunday morning.

The irony is that the behaviour of a tiny minority can threaten an event enjoyed responsibly by hundreds.

Organisers increasingly publish explicit rules prohibiting burnouts, speeding and unnecessary revving. South OC, despite its enormous scale, specifically tells attendees to drive quietly and slowly on surrounding streets and freeways.

Those rules are not merely etiquette.

Most informal meets survive because a landowner, business and surrounding community tolerate or actively welcome them. Once complaints accumulate, police attention increases or somebody has an accident outside the entrance, that goodwill can disappear remarkably quickly.

This may determine what Cars and Coffee becomes next.

The completely informal gathering may gradually give way to more controlled events: pre-registration, marshals, designated arrival routes, limited numbers and closer relationships with venues and local authorities. Larger meets may increasingly migrate towards circuits, dedicated automotive destinations and commercial sites capable of handling the traffic.

That would remove some of the spontaneity that made the concept successful.

But the alternative could be losing venues altogether.

There is something worth protecting here. At a time when much of the established collector-car calendar has become increasingly sophisticated and expensive, Cars and Coffee remains one of the simplest ways of participating in car culture. You do not necessarily need a concours-quality classic, hospitality ticket or invitation.

Sometimes you simply need a car you find interesting and enough enthusiasm to get up early on Sunday morning.

Perhaps that simplicity explains why the phenomenon has travelled so successfully around the world.

Its future will depend upon keeping it simple — and recognising that the freedom to gather ultimately depends upon knowing how to leave.

By Steven Bell | 7 September 2026

There was a time when the international collector car calendar had a recognisable season.

Spring brought the first significant European gatherings, summer belonged to concours lawns and historic racing, Monterey dominated August, and by early autumn much of the international calendar was drawing to a close.

In 2026, that distinction has almost disappeared.

The year began in January with Rétromobile celebrating its 50th anniversary in Paris and The I.C.E. bringing significant motor cars onto the frozen lake at St. Moritz. From there, the calendar moved through Cavallino Classic and Amelia Island in the United States, before returning to Europe for Villa d'Este in May, Germany's Concours of Elegance in July and an increasingly crowded summer of concours, tours, rallies and historic motorsport.

By August, attention had shifted to California for Monterey Car Week and Pebble Beach. September brought the Concours of Elegance at Hampton Court Palace, while November will now see the inaugural Rétromobile New York take over the Javits Center in Manhattan.

For the first time, the international collector car calendar feels remarkably close to becoming a twelve-month industry.

The numbers suggest the appetite is there. Rétromobile's 50th anniversary attracted a record 181,500 visitors in Paris, while The I.C.E. reported record applications for its 2026 concours. Rétromobile's decision to take its format across the Atlantic is perhaps even more significant: New York will host the event's first American edition from 19–22 November, extending one of Europe's best-known collector-car institutions into an entirely new market.

Geographically, the expansion is equally interesting.

Europe remains extraordinarily well served, from Britain, France, Germany and Italy to Switzerland and Sweden, where The Aurora returned for its second year with classic cars sharing the event with contemporary hypercars. The Concours of Elegance organisation has also expanded into Bahrain, with the Royal Bahrain Concours scheduled for November, illustrating how established European event formats are increasingly finding audiences elsewhere.

The result is not simply more events, but greater variety.

Some remain relatively accessible gatherings built around clubs, enthusiasts and broad public attendance. Others occupy the opposite end of the spectrum, combining exceptional motor cars with luxury hospitality and increasingly exclusive access.

Monterey perhaps demonstrates that tension most clearly. Car Week remains one of the most important gatherings in the collector calendar, but the escalating cost of attending some of its events has attracted criticism this year. That raises a legitimate question for organisers: as collector-car events become more sophisticated and commercially valuable, how exclusive can they become without eventually distancing themselves from the enthusiasts who sustain the culture around them? Recent commentary has specifically questioned whether major automotive events are becoming prohibitively expensive.

Yet the broader picture remains difficult to interpret as anything other than confidence.

The collector-car industry is operating against an uncertain economic background. International trade tariffs, increasing transportation costs, taxation and regulatory pressures all complicate the movement and ownership of significant motor cars. Parts of the traditional classic-car market have also experienced price corrections after the exceptional growth of the previous decade.

And still the events keep expanding.

That matters because the health of the collector-car world cannot be measured solely through auction results. An industry also exists around restorers, engineers, dealers, transport companies, storage facilities, insurers, historians, event organisers and the thousands of specialists whose businesses depend upon cars continuing to be bought, maintained, driven and enjoyed.

A crowded international calendar puts those businesses in front of collectors and, perhaps more importantly, gives owners a reason to use the cars.

The arrival of Rétromobile in New York feels particularly symbolic. What was once a major Paris event now has the confidence to establish itself in Manhattan, just as concours culture has expanded into Scandinavia, Germany and the Middle East.

The collector car world is becoming less seasonal and increasingly international.

There will inevitably be questions around cost, accessibility and whether the calendar can sustain so many events. Not every new concours or show will survive, and collectors themselves only have so much time to travel.

But 2026 has demonstrated something important.

Despite economic uncertainty, changing regulation and a collector market that continues to evolve, enthusiasm for significant motor cars appears remarkably resilient.

The season is no longer getting longer.

It is becoming the entire year.

By Steven Bell | 19 March 2026

Britain’s transition to zero-emission vehicles is beginning to show signs of strain. What was once presented as a clear and inevitable pathway now appears increasingly dependent on assumptions that have not materialised.

Recent analysis from the Society of Motor Manufacturers and Traders highlights a widening gap between policy ambition and market reality. Despite strong manufacturer investment, a growing model range and significant incentives, uptake continues to lag behind targets. In 2025, battery electric vehicles accounted for 23.4% of new car registrations — notably below the 28% mandate requirement.

The industry has, for now, bridged that gap through heavy discounting and regulatory flexibility. More than £10 billion has been spent supporting demand over the past two years alone. But with targets set to rise sharply by 2027, the question is no longer whether progress is being made — but whether it is sustainable.

Underlying conditions have shifted. Battery costs remain higher than expected, energy prices have risen significantly, and the anticipated price parity between electric and internal combustion vehicles has yet to arrive. Charging infrastructure continues to expand, but cost and accessibility remain inconsistent, particularly for commercial users.

Against that backdrop, the transition is already proving more complex than originally forecast.

What is perhaps more telling, however, is how these challenges translate beyond the new car market — particularly into areas where enthusiasm was once expected to be strongest

In the years leading up to the pandemic, electric conversions of classic cars were widely positioned as a natural extension of the EV movement. The idea was simple: retain the aesthetic and heritage of a classic, while replacing its drivetrain with modern electric propulsion. Several specialist firms emerged, promising a new category of “usable classics.”

That momentum has not materialised as anticipated.

Even the most prominent names in the space illustrate the challenge. Lunaz, once seen as a leading force in the sector, entered administration before returning to market with a revised strategy. While continuing to offer electric conversions of classic Bentley, Aston Martin, Jaguar and Land Rover models, total production volumes remain modest — estimated at around 50 vehicles.

More notably, the company has begun broadening its offering to include traditionally powered, customer-personalised restorations — a shift that suggests demand for full EV conversions may not be as deep as once expected.

That raises a more fundamental question: if EV adoption is proving challenging in the modern vehicle market, was it ever realistic to expect widespread acceptance within the classic car world?

Classic ownership is rarely driven by practicality alone. For many, the appeal lies in the mechanical experience — the sound, the imperfections, the involvement. The smell of fuel, the tactility of a manual gearbox, even the maintenance itself all form part of the attraction.

For newer entrants to the market in particular, that experience is often the very reason for buying a classic in the first place.

In that context, removing the combustion element risks removing much of what defines the car.

The result is a niche within a niche. While electric conversions may appeal to a small subset of owners, the broader collector base appears largely uninterested. Unlike the modern EV transition, which is being driven by regulation, the classic car market remains fundamentally voluntary — and driven by preference rather than compliance.

That distinction matters.

It suggests that while EV adoption will continue to evolve in the mainstream market, its influence on the classic sector may remain limited. The anticipated crossover between the two worlds has yet to fully materialise.

Whether that changes over time remains to be seen. But for now, classic EV conversions appear less like the next phase of the market — and more like a specialist experiment.

In a market already adjusting to shifting values and changing buyer behaviour, the question is not just whether electric classics will grow — but whether they were ever more than a passing idea.

By Steven Bell | 19 January 2026

Within the collector car world, the Ferrari 250 GTO remains one of the most coveted machines of modern times. Most examples trade discreetly, away from public scrutiny, and when news of a sale does surface it tends to arrive wrapped in speculation — figures inferred rather than confirmed, values debated but rarely verified.

The ownership circle has long resembled a private society: thirty-six custodians, minimal exposure, maximum mystique. In January, however, that mystique was placed under the full glare of public auction.

Chassis 3729GT was positioned as the headline act at Mecum’s January auction. The only factory Bianco GTO, accompanied by months of escalating promotion and estimates comfortably north of $50 million, it was framed as more than a sale. It was presented as confirmation — confirmation that the GTO market remained untouchable, impervious to broader caution.

Anticipation was genuine. The room was full, online viewership strong, the theatre carefully constructed. Yet once bidding began, the energy felt measured rather than electric. Numbers advanced, but cautiously. Momentum never quite took hold.

At one point, Dana Mecum himself stepped forward to encourage the room. The effort was visible. So too was the hesitation.

For what was widely regarded as one of the most anticipated cars of the 2026 season, the absence of aggressive competition was striking. After several tense minutes and consultation by phone, David Lee ultimately committed at $35 million.

The car sold. But it did not surge.

Given the scale of the pre-auction promotion and the confidence surrounding estimates, the result felt restrained. Questions quickly followed. Some pointed to the car’s unique specification. Others revisited debates around period correctness. It was also noted that respected dealer Simon Kidston had been unable to secure a private buyer when entrusted with the car in 2024.

Yet the more revealing element emerged after the hammer fell.

In a recent interview, Lee was asked whether he would consider selling the GTO if offered $50 million. His response was unequivocal: in his view, the car should be worth closer to $70 million, and only a serious offer approaching $100 million would merit consideration.

The confidence is clear. The market, however, offered a different signal.

If a globally promoted example of the Ferrari 250 GTO struggles to ignite bidding beyond $35 million under ideal conditions, it raises an obvious question: on what basis does $70 million sit? Scarcity alone does not create urgency, and rarity does not automatically translate into competitive liquidity.

None of this diminishes the car’s significance. The GTO remains one of the most important competition Ferraris ever built, and ownership carries a prestige few other machines can match. But prestige and price are not always perfectly aligned, particularly in public settings where sentiment must convert into action.

Markets establish price in real time. Owners establish value over time. Occasionally those two figures converge seamlessly; occasionally they diverge, sometimes for years.

For now, Lee enters the GTO circle at $35 million — a figure that may ultimately look astute. Whether it proves an entry point on the way to $70 million, or a clearer reflection of the market’s present ceiling, will depend less on belief and more on the next buyer prepared to test it.