It is here where sheetmetal gets its personality, where engines and tires, previously built to behave, learn about rude manners and burnouts.
Here. In Las Vegas, where the sun is the only thing brighter than the night.
Called the Specialty Equipment Manufacturers Association trade show, SEMA is lovingly thought of as an automotive carnival stretching across 2 million square feet of Vegas convention space and parking lot. Every inch of space â€“ and more â€“ is used to celebrate the art of creating something special out of metal, iron and paint. And thanks to the legions of shade tree mechanics that have opened stalls since the early sixties, SEMA has come to represent the act of putting creative life into the industrial chill of production lines and factories.
SEMA. The thought of it makes me laugh out loud. Itâ€™s not so much a group of companies as it is an event where people learn to live with their vehicles, a place where a boring secretaryâ€™s car becomes a performance icon. Itâ€™s where youâ€™ll find the shell of a Mustang floating in midair, a life-sized Twin Mill Hot Wheel, a peach Camry low rider and a matte-finish, violet Volvo C30â€¦with a wide white racing stripe.Â Â
Which is to say itâ€™s you.
And me. And the guy down the hall, the girl up the road. Itâ€™s every single person who ever thought about getting new paint on their Cavalier or new wheels on their Civic. Wheels for Civics. Thatâ€™s what SEMA is. That and Buicks with pretty girls and celebrities as garnish. The fact that Buick is even here at all is cause for celebration: Forever shunning SEMA as the crazy paint and chrome show, automakers have turned up their noses and watched as one after another enterprising gear head made millions on making their cars go faster, drive better and look nicer.Â
No no, this is how you should do itâ€¦
Theyâ€™re listening now. Todayâ€™s SEMA has intense automaker interest; the light switch was flipped and today, everyone from Toyota to Ford, Chevrolet and Hyundai are offering specialty versions of their vehicles. In years past, the show has gone so mainstream as to feature the debut of the latest Toyota Corolla. But that’s not SEMA – it’s what people do to their Corollas after they buy it and realize they just can’t live with Toyota-endorsed seats and wheels. That’s what SEMA is, that and a bitter Larry Woods signing autographs while grown men cry over Hot Wheels, booth babes prancing around 26-inch wheels, and the guys with the alignment rack who chases anyone dumb enough to take a picture.
Yep.Â That’s SEMA, that place between the new car dealership and the old junker tow truck. That place where people actually care about cars.
By Brian Chee