We spent last week in Monterey, California at “Car Week”. A gentleman I was chatting with described it as, “Adult Disneyland for car addicts.” I love that. And yes, I stand convicted.

A week of non-stop car activities all over the Monterey Peninsula.

On Thursday morning, standing on Ocean Avenue in Carmel, I talked with the owner of a rare mid-thirties Austro Daimler. He was showing his car on Sunday in the prestigious Pebble Beach Concourse d’ELegance. He enthusiastically told me the life story of his treasure and how he had lovingly restored it.

On Friday afternoon in Pacific Grove I chatted with owners of less expensive cars yet ones just as meticulously cared for.

Then at the hotel on Saturday evening, as a group sat on the front porch, I talked with a man who was visiting in his Ferrari. He spoke of his Aston Martin at home and Lamborgini on order. He seemed neither to know much about any of them or ever to have personally worked on them. It seemed simply like a never ending attempt to fill up some restlessness.

For others that restlessness may take the form of incessant shopping. Or frenetically pursuing a career. Or obsession in the gym with trying to retain the last vestiges of youth. Nope, not much hope there.

And frankly, just because I can get on top of it, doesn’t mean I don’t sometimes find myself insidiously slipping back into that endless pursuit.

Yet, the problem is? It’s never enough is it? I mean that darn happiness stays just out of reach.

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