Car shows have a unique energy that’s hard to replicate. The sight of dozens, even hundreds, of people coming together to appreciate the hours of work and thousands of dollars poured into each vehicle is something special. Every car has a story, and every owner is eager to share it.
When I arrived at the 4-H center with my grandpa, our first stop was the market area. Here, vendors were selling everything from car parts to knickknacks, and yes, a fair amount of what some might call junk. But in the world of car enthusiasts, one person’s junk is another’s treasure, and there’s money to be made.
Amidst the clutter were entire cars—Volkswagen Beetles, scooped-out Mustangs, and a pristine Corvette. The vehicles ranged from old to new, with price tags from $8,000 to $180,000. While these figures were well beyond my budget, for others, they represented a potential investment in a show car. (And yes, prepare to see a lot of Volkswagen Beetles—they’re everywhere!)
My grandpa, always the conversationalist, found plenty of opportunities to chat with the vendors. One conversation started with a shared memory of a car he used to own, another with stories from their time in the army. It’s amazing how quickly connections can form when you find common ground.
As we moved on to the main event, it felt like a flashback to the Eville Shindig earlier this year, another vintage car show held at the 4-H center in Evansville. There were hundreds of cars—more Volkswagen Beetles than you could count, Fords from the ’20s to the ’40s, and Chevy pickups as tall as modern semi-trucks.
Each car had its own unique character. One truck, in particular, caught my eye with its front adorned in gears and cogs, and a Hercules image on the side. Appropriately named "Hercules," the truck was a monster, complete with a ramp in the back that looked like it could carry a few cars if only there was room.
Parked nearby was another similar truck, this one with a massive engine in the back and a fifth wheel. Though they were the same make, their personalities were worlds apart. I wish I could have learned the stories behind them.
Then there were the cars that looked like they belonged in a sci-fi movie—a silver Volkswagen with rounded features and hubcaps polished to a mirror finish. I’m not exaggerating when I say I could see my reflection in that car.
It seems like similar cars like to congregate. Rows of two-door, two-seaters, a swarm of Volkswagen Beetles, rusty Model A’s, and hot rods with metal-flake paint and flaming decals lined up together.
Rat rods hold a special place in my heart. These rusting relics might have ended up in a junkyard if not for the passionate dedication of their owners. This passion gives them a second life, and they look downright intimidating. Part of the appeal is their raw, almost dangerous appearance—some don’t have doors, others lack hoods, and a few barely resemble cars at all. The bigger and meaner, the better.
The walkways were alive with cars puttering about, adding a wild card element to the event. While admiring a chromed-out Chevy parked nearby, a V16 engine roared past, its sound leaving an impression.
Speaking of sound, the hot rods and rat rods were deafening. A straight-pipe exhaust, lacking any baffling to soften the roar, is an acquired taste. Even at a crawl, these cars were absurdly loud.
Around noon, we took a break to eat. My grandpa, ever the frugal man, brought along some MREs from his supply. As we sat down, he struck up six different conversations with passersby. While I joined in a few, being an introvert, I preferred to listen. I suspect he brought the MREs partly as a conversation starter.
(I had spicy southern chicken, and while I don’t usually like beans, I barely noticed them in the meal. We didn’t even cook it, and it was still pretty good.)
After a bit more wandering and car-watching, we decided to head home before grandpa could spend more money. Even on the way back to the car, he couldn’t resist striking up more conversations.
The whole event was fantastic. Even if you have just a passing interest in cars—if all you know is that one is yellow and the other is white—I highly recommend attending a car show at least once. You’ll see things you never imagined, some things that seem impossible to drive, and many things that will simply make you smile.
I don’t regret a second of that trip. Going to the Frog Follies was a priceless experience, and admission was only ten dollars. Next year marks the 50th annual Frog Follies, and it promises to be a stunning event. If you’re interested, I’d recommend checking it out.
