csua.org/u/d65 -> sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/g/a/2003/04/17/impcar.DTL&type=universal
A crowd of gawkers gathers around, pointing and taking photos. The vehicle is customized to an outrageous degree: extra-large chrome wheels, custom upholstery, a DVD player with TV screens installed throughout. Steven, the owner, says he's spent $55,000 on aftermarket goodies. As 20,000 people bustle in and out of the San Mateo Expo Center, Steven's SUV is clearly one of the highlights. He hasn't done much to the engine, but the electronics are something else entirely: "I had a different system in it last year -- it didn't turn out so good, so I got a new one in there," he admits. It's fun to watch other drivers check him out at stoplights, he says. Souped-up import cars have been around for years, spawned from the young generation's perpetual need for speed and a glut of affordable Japanese cars on the market. But the scene really caught fire after a magazine article on street racing inspired the 2001 film "The Fast and the Furious," and suddenly suburban kids were spending after-school income and racking up credit card debts to hot-rod their Hondas. Sales of aftermarket parts soared, magazines and Web sites sprouted up, associations invented import-car shows and racing circuits and streets filled with Japanese vehicles painted candy pink and electric green. Today, there's an import-car event nearly every single weekend somewhere in the country. This billion-dollar industry will take an even bigger jump after the "Fast and the Furious" sequel is released in June. The California import scene mirrors the melting pot of the West Coast -- a big, loud, over-the-top multiculti rainbow coalition consisting primarily of Asians but also including Latinos, African Americans, whites, hapas (mixed-race Asians) and anyone else who appreciates a seamless installation of a Toyota Supra taillight into a Honda Civic hatchback or a Subaru WRX sedan rigged with Corbeau seat-belt harnesses and a front-mount intercooler. Add to this the relatively prosperous economy of the Bay Area, where affluent families often buy their teenagers brand-new cars, and the result is a Northern California freeway system choked with souped-up imports, many of which are here in the parking lot tonight. Steven and his SUV are from Team Blur, a California import-car club with several cars on the exhibit floor, all featuring team decals on the windows. Another Team Blur member, Mike from San Jose, explains to me that domestic cars are more difficult to customize because they require welding. Import cars, on the other hand, are easier because parts, such as a trunk-mounted metal spoiler, just bolt on and off. According to Mike, being a member of a car club doesn't mean you're part of a gang. It's not just a car dealership, it's the largest Honda-parts dealer in Northern California and the seventh largest in the nation. If you live in the Bay Area and need a stock Honda part, you go to Capitol. Capitol parts director Tom Faler first saw the spectacle of the import trend at a trade show in 1999, but it was centered in Los Angeles and hadn't yet migrated up north. Capitol Honda's parts business grows 20 percent each year. The big trend in parts is colors, according to Faler, because Japanese body types are pretty much the same and it's easy to bolt items on to make a car unique. The concept is more about a killer paint job, exhaust systems, wheels and under-the-hood modifications. Being in his 50s, the native Californian has seen more than his share of car-obsessed gearheads -- and he was one of them. They're just a little fancier now, a little more sophisticated. But back then, you'd get the guys together at the corner drive-in, you might see 20 cars. And then "The Fast and the Furious" was released with a paper-thin plot but good-looking actors and fantastic action scenes of import cars racing, chasing, flipping and crashing. During competitions, NOPI even erects a giant screen and projects the film as night falls. Girls and hot-rod guys have long held mutual fascination for each other, but here at Hot Import Nights, it seems like every third booth is filled with pretty Asian girls signing autographs, surrounded by pimply boys standing a discreet distance away, staring in awe. If an exhibit booth hasn't hired babes for the occasion, it's a ghost town -- no one bothers. For several years, the 28-year-old has toured import-car shows with a group of models. You got the movies coming out, Playboy's going to do a feature on import models. Being an import model, it's not a lot of prestige, but it's a great way for exposure. The thing is, with the import scene, anybody can become an import model -- somebody's sister, a friend of a friend. The car itself is usually of Japanese design, with a Japanese name and design aesthetics, and it's an exhilarating idea to take a car from Japan's crowded landscape and turn it loose on America's wide-open topography. There's also a love of convenience, a fascination with the latest technology. In a world with programmable text-message cell phones and Honda ASIMO personal robots and anime films and Pokmon pop-culture kitsch, a car is approached with similar enthusiasm. Interiors are packed with TVs and laptops and PlayStation controllers. Every car club has a beautifully designed Web site, the URL of which is plastered across member's windshields. On these sites, photo galleries go for page after page, hundreds of archived thumbnailed digital snapshots from previous car shows. According to Tan, this enthusiasm isn't just obsessive, it's also cultural. A subtlety in a martial art allows the martial artist to go up against odds that are far beyond. Let's Race Out in the courtyard of the Expo Center, the pavement is lined with bumper-to-bumper cars representing more clubs: Team Fuzion, Team Demented, Team Lightspeed, Team Hokori. Members sit in folding chairs, eating burgers and watching spectators check out their creations. Some cars are obviously stock on the outside, with mods under hoods and trunks. One must look closer for subtleties like a six-inch exhaust pipe, or rear seats replaced by subwoofers and nitrous-oxide tanks. Others are more overt, covered with stickers and bolt-on items, doors and trunks reconfigured to open sideways or hinged to pop straight up. Two guys ogle a low-slung orange vehicle from San Jose's Team Apokalypse, admiring the impeccable white upholstery. Team Transport features Ritche Bautista and his 1995 Mitsubishi Eclipse GS, seen on-screen in the upcoming "Fast and the Furious" sequel. Team Nemesis displays drag-racing photos of and trophies won by Izzy Covita and his '94 Honda Civic. Kids still meet up at a fast-food joint, drive to a prearranged location such as an empty street or a paved industrial area and drag race each other. Several cars in the Expo parking lot have tell-tale dings and scrapes, and the cool air smells of burnt rubber. According to Ryan, who's come to the car show from San Jose, drivers can't help themselves. When the movie first came out, there's a lot of people who wanted to street race. He was pulled over in his Celica by Milpitas police on suspicion of street racing. Ryan had raced, but not that night, and so he sued the city of Milpitas and won $4,000. Getting caught right now -- street racing -- is 30 days impound, plus, if you're underage you might go to juvie jail. Ryan says impound fees for a mandatory 30 days adds up to $12,000. Especially when you're still a teenager, that's a lot of money.
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