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"The amount of Italian iron in the Twin Cities never ceases to amaze
me. I was once again stunned by the annual Wheels Of Italy Show that
took place at Lake Calhoun this weekend." August 24, 2007

I wrote that last year about this fantastic show (automotively speaking). This year the show was even bigger–in many ways.

For example it must be tough to have parents in the oil business or hedge funds (very shady hedge funds) and live in these bright sunlit midlands of modesty. I mean there just ain’t enough playgrounds in Minnesota to play with their toys.

A nice 911 is not too-over-the-top, but a Gallardo, a Testarossa, or pray tell something even more egregious like a tarted up Viper really belongs to the night and to those clubs where they pack heat under thick gold chains.

Still a truly manly man in Minnesota hanuts places around here because really wants a nice girl from Saint Olaf who looks good in Spandex and a pony tail–or the very stuff that cash and collagen can’t buy. Being a nice person, unfortunately, this "Ole’" would rather hang at Bunny’s or Trygg’s than trouble spots in the heart of downtown.

I believe, therefore, that Wheels of Italy has become a detente’ zone for dilletantes in Diablos looking for a nice Debbie or Krisitn to replace their artificially enhanced amoires’ .

They certainly were out in force this weekend and my ears are still ringing from the revs they made with their engines.

They did not burn any rubber, as that takes real skill in tight confines. It also takes a certain cool.

Or did I say tool?