Jay Leno’s Garage
This is how you use the Internet.
Growing up in Connecticut, the only star I ever saw was Bette Davis. She was signing her book in Klein’s, the book store cum audio shop cum record store on the main drag in Westport. It’s hard for Felice to fathom. That stars weren’t a regular part of my upbringing. Because when you live in L.A., you bump into famous people constantly.
Maybe you’re looking for energy bars in your local Whole Foods, and that guy blocking your way turns out to be Elliott Gould. True story, about a year and a half ago in the emporium on National, far from where you’d ever expect to see someone famous, never mind the coolest guy in the coolest movie of 1970, "M.A.S.H."
More famous locations yield a higher percentage of hits. Stumbling into the Troubadour bar one night in the seventies, I found myself right next to Alice Cooper and Keith Moon. Didn’t even realize it until after I’d gotten my drink and sat down. Alice showed off his new choppers, Keith grinned.
Yes, when you first arrive in L.A., you talk to them. Figuring you’re having the experience of a lifetime, you don’t want to let it pass by. So, you’re eating Chinese food and you end up in a conversation with Sherman Hemsley. Not Mr. Chow’s, but some dive on Beverly, that your sister’s school chum told you about. And he doesn’t want to talk the "Jeffersons", he wants to know you. Or so you think. You even start to believe you’re friends.
But as time passes by, you give the celebrities room. Would you like to be interrupted in the grocery store? Or while you’re getting your hair cut? Still, unlike New York, where all the action takes place behind closed doors, in L.A., our celebrities are roaming the streets, available to TMZ cameras. Did you catch the video of Diana Ross tanking up at Taco Bell? What stunned me was her ride, a Chrysler 300. Because that’s how you separate the rich from the poor in L.A., their cars. Your standard issue black Mercedes will suffice, if you’re trying to fly below the radar, but stars tend to want to be noticed. So, in the seventies they drove Jensens, newfangled Stutzes, even chopped Cadillac Sevilles, with an entire row of seats and doors removed.
But safety regulations put the kibosh on the exoticmobiles. And they made enough Ferrari 328s that it almost doesn’t pay to crane your neck for a look, it’s usually some nobody behind the wheel, trying to pull girls with his ancient, now affordable ride.
Yes, the freeways are full of Hondas and Toyotas. At this point, imports are rampant all over the country, but California was first. Not only the German automobiles, but the Japanese. Californians wanted efficiency and affordability, they wanted cars that didn’t break, they looked to the Far East.
So driving is not that exciting anymore. Although I did see Randy Newman in his BMW at a light in Century City. Peeking to see if it was really him, he turned to me and threw up his arms in mock fright. But I haven’t seen a celeb on the highway since. Hell, I even saw Muhammad Ali in the back of a limo the night after one of his famous fights, he showed me the Black Power fist through the smoked glass, but that was years ago.
And Sunday we’re sitting in traffic on the 101, taking the back way to the beach. Turns out there was an accident, but it doesn’t take a fender bender to stop traffic in L.A., there’s just too damn many cars. But when we could finally go and not stop, we were in the fast lane, Felice behind the wheel, my driving duties being reserved for the trip back. And staring into space, looking across the freeway in Tarzana at the Sit’n Sleep where we bought that mattress, I see this antique yellow car come screaming by. In the second to fast lane. Although usually in L.A. it’s reversed, the quicker lanes being to the right, slowpokes needing to show they’re boss usually holding up traffic on the left.
I’m frightened for the driver. This looks like something out of "Those Daring Young Men in Their Jaunty Jalopies". Going in the wrong direction, away from frolicking by the seaside, this antique machine must have been moving about seventy. One bad bump and the driver behind the wheel…
IT’S JAY LENO!
Unmistakably, his white hair blowing back, holding on for dear life, like a patron at an amusement park, riding the roller coaster against his will.
And when we get to Malibu, I tell a few people and get little reaction.
Maybe it was the crowd.
But mindlessly surfing just now, I decided to do some research, to make sure my eyes didn’t lie. I Googled "leno’s cars" and the very first hit was Jay Leno’s Garage
Atop the page are all these motorcycles, I figure I’m on a scavenger hunt, I’ll be surfing endlessly to find no meaningful result.
But then I see there’s a link for "The Cars", and when I click through, I see a seemingly endless scroll of machines. My pulse quickens. I know what I’m looking for, a screaming yellow vehicle, a yellowjacket with a bit of mustard mixed in.
Almost exactly halfway down the page I find it, it’s unmistakable, it’s Jay Leno’s 1913 Mercer Raceabout!
1913? Jay Leno took a hundred year old automobile on the Ventura Freeway?
Clicking on the picture, I found the story.
The Roebling family, whose ancestor built the Brooklyn Bridge, purchased a car company and named it Mercer, after the New Jersey county where production was located. The Titanic brought down their enterprise, or at least the last living Roebling, but this car still remains. According to Leno, at one time in the sixties, it was the most expensive classic automobile.
The details are in the video.
Oh, you’ve got to sit through a thirty second commercial, but it’s worth it. Jay goes on for almost fifteen minutes about his Mercer, demonstrating that he truly knows its ins and outs. And then he takes it out, on the highway. With its lame brakes. You’ll be scared watching him, just as I was on Sunday.
Jay’s rich enough to afford this hobby. But he’s not doing it to show off, but because it’s his passion. And his passion for something that doesn’t even generate any capital intrigues us, and makes us feel even better about him.
Not that I’ve got a problem with Jay. He was hilarious when I saw him back at the Improv in ’78. I remember one bill included Jay, Richard Lewis and Sam Kinison. Jay killed back then. He’ll kill at ten again.
You’ve got to spark our interest. And then you’ve got to provide in-depth information online. Google will let us find it. Just lay out the story so we can revel in the information. If only every famous musician had a page wherein he described his equipment, told road stories. Didn’t charge for the privilege, but did it because he wanted to share.
You can still become famous. But to stay in people’s minds you must have a relationship with them. Not based on talking down, but mutual interest.
Watching Jay Leno talk about his Mercer put a smile on my face.
If you’ve got any interest in cars, you’ll feel the same way.
