Mecum auction brings more than 1,000 dream cars to town
Mecum Auctions returned to NRG Center over the weekend on its annual tour across the country, helping spread other people’s wealth — for a commission.
Where there are cars, there is money, and Dana Mecum understood that when he founded the company in 1988. Since 2011, Mecum has been hosting multiday auctions throughout the United States, selling hundreds of vehicles in the process.
Certain cities have an appreciation for cars beyond personal transportation. Cities like Los Angeles, Miami and Scottsdale have a reputation for flexing metal. H-Town has a famously known love affair with the automobile, expressed in the annual Art Car Parade and catalog of car clubs. Heck, this is the city credited for jumpstarting the Slabs and Swangas car culture scene. If you’re unfamiliar with those terms, they’re custom cars and exaggerated tire rims that extend outward long enough to be installed on Ben-Hur’s racing chariot.
I made the three-hour pilgrimage from San Antonio to Houston for the show. Once I had my media pass around my neck, I stepped through the doors onto the Mecum red carpet and my ears began to ring with the rapid-fire cadence of the auctioneer spitting numbers and slamming down the hammer like a judge handing out life sentences.
The crowd was split among the bidders sitting up front and the general crowd in the “nosebleed” section standing behind them, watching the action. There are two VIP sections given the “Gold” moniker. I had to speak to two security team members, their manager and a Mecum representative to gain access to this apparent high
roller stage to take a photo. Their reaction made me think they were worried I would sneak in and stuff my pockets with their mediocre hors d’oeuvres consisting of chicken wraps and honeydew on a stick.
One positive aspect of attending a car auction of this caliber in 2024 is the variety of vehicles. Humanity has been tinkering with automobiles for over 120 years, resulting in some interesting parking configurations like a cherry 1967 Cadillac DeVille convertible placed next to an original 1986 Toyota Land Cruiser or a screenused Fred Flintstone’s Cavemobile parked next to Tony Stewart's No. 20 Home Depot Chevrolet NASCAR stock car, with the Green Hornet’s Black Beauty custom Chrysler Imperial and Sheriff Jim Hopper’s Chevrolet K5 Blazer from “Stranger Things,” complete with bullet holes, behind them.
Walking from one end of the venue to the other qualifies as a cardio workout as you stroll along, admiring the rows of polished chrome, clear coat patina, hand-waxed paint and cherished metal. I focused on the job with my ears to the ground to eavesdrop on people’s conversations.
Most conversations are about what color they would paint a particular vehicle, telling a story of a relative who bought one new back in the day or too busy wiping drool off their face and nursing their overpriced light beer in a plastic cup. I overheard several people calling vehicles by the wrong name, like nails on a chalkboard, but I knew that correcting them wasn’t worth the effort.
The high rollers are easy to spot among the crowd of cargo shorts and automotive-themed Tshirts. They wear watches that cost more than my full-time salary, dressed in flashy leisure wear with slip-on boating shoes that could pass for pajamas and slippers. The excitement in the air is one you’d only find walking through a busy Las Vegas casino or horse track. You know that with every vehicle crossing the auction block, someone will make or lose money. For most attendees, the Mecum auction is an opportunity to gawk at dream cars in an airconditioned building at the cost of a $30 entrance fee, or free if you’re under 12.
I have a personal connection with these kinds of events because I understand the mindset of a car collector. My father and I have about 20 vehicles in various stages of restoration and condition. Not because we have multiple commas on our bank statements but because we have the one commodity more valuable than money: space. A piece of land we call home where we can park our heaps of junk or 401(k) investments, depending on who you ask, free of any HOA, city code or nosy neighbor looking to make a fuss.
This earned experience forms a trained eye to spot details when buying antique or restored cars and stay away from auctions where they serve you alcohol to loosen your wallet.
I have enough trouble staying away from Facebook Marketplace. Giving me a line of credit at Mecum is like giving a kid a bag of sugar and a model train; it’s going to go off the rails. But suppose you’re not interested in being a caretaker to a desirable antique example of a consumer product. In that case, Mecum provides a family-friendly, memorable weekend activity where you can get close and touch museumquality vehicles without the annoying velvet rope.