Billetproof Nor-Cal

At any other time, some jerk firing up his car at 6:30 AM outside my hotel room would’ve ruined my whole day. But on Billetproof day, that sound was like bells on Christmas morning. Because once we were through the gates of the Antioch fairgrounds a couple hours later, before us sprawled acres of the most beautiful works of metal one might ever come across in one setting.
But it wasn’t like our local car shows, where we have the obligatory PT Cruiser section or that crazy Knight Rider replica. The rules of Billetproof basically come down to this: Nothing made after 1964, and no pansy-ass fluff-mobiles brought in on trailers. These rods were chopped, slammed or extended; flat black, pin-striped or just plain rusty; sanded down, mottled, sporting fresh welding beads or sometimes held together by vice grips. And they were as much labors of love as they were ingenuity and skill.
It was incredible how the day’s offerings of custom cars, good music and booze brought everyone together like family. Graying, seasoned vets of the scene had no qualms going up to some youngin’ with a pompadour and cuffed Levi’s to inquire about his camshaft. Observing the attendees was almost as fun as checking out the entries, too; especially when we happened upon a group of guys, all around the age of 60, sporting full-sleeved tats and crawling under each other’s rigs or cracking a High Life.
Vintage country music piped out of some cars, while others fired up their rigs to warm up their foil-wrapped sandwiches. The live tunes started right around lunchtime, with Chico transplants Hit By A Semi literally jumping out of their van after their drive up from LA to take the stage. A fine-tuned rod would often make its way between the crowd and the band, adding a little flare to the show. HBAS drew a good crowd — old and young alike — and even changed up the chorus of “Friends Booze and Tattoos” to “All I need is friends, booze and Billetproof.” Their warm reception carried over to the sounds of the East Bay’s Sore Thumbs, whose always-energetic set, complete with new stuff from their forthcoming album, drew in a few more curious cats. Realizing that we hadn’t even seen the other side of the fairgrounds, we drunkenly ambled over and had to miss a pretty rockin’ group from Ohio. By the time we made it back to the stage, those guys were finishing up their last song and the awards were getting started. The parting sentiments at the end of the awards by organizer Kirk Jones prefaced — in my opinion — the best part of the day, when the cars fired up, paraded by and rolled out of the grounds into the streets of Antioch. The best music of the day.

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