This article discusses the Audrain Concours d’Elegance, a prestigious car show in Newport, Rhode Island.
The Audrain 2026: Why the “New Pebble” is Redefining Classic Car Culture
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The year is 2026. In the rarefied world of automotive perfection, the question echoes through the manicured lawns and oak-lined streets of Newport, Rhode Island: “What’s it going to take to pull you down to the Audrain?”
This isn’t a question for just anyone. It’s a summons issued by Donald Osborne, a man whose very presence at the Audrain Concours d’Elegance feels as natural as the salt-laced air wafting off the Atlantic. The bowtie is a sartorial staple, the Italian is likely fluent, and his voice—well, it carries the smooth authority of someone who knows his Bugattis from his Bizzarrinis, and probably owns both. Osborne, the spiritual compass and master of ceremonies of this automotive spectacle, has been coaxing me to join the judging panel since the event was conceived back in 2019.
It was during the Mobile One Digital Age (MODA) in Miami, a spectacular counter-punch orchestrated by RM Sotheby’s after they lost nearly 30 employees to Hagerty’s Broad Arrow auction house. The move effectively thumbed its nose at Amelia Island, another global elite automotive event that Hagerty acquired outright. Looking across the Miami sunshine at Osborne, I finally blurted, “Make me a judge.”
He flashed the mega-watt smile that has charmed generations of collectors. With a languid wave of his hand, he simply declared, “You’re a judge. See you in Newport.”
Into the Deep End: A Trial by Fire
I still recall my first appearance at the Pebble Beach Concours d’Elegance—the undisputed granddaddy of all decadent, high-society car gatherings. I was woefully out of my depth. This was eons before the dopamine loop of social media held us captive. I barely understood the scale of these events. What to wear? I honestly thought the legendary Sunday show was just an upscale “cars and coffee.” My attire, I’m fairly certain, consisted of shorts and a T-shirt. However, I did notice that my esteemed colleague—Pulitzer Prize winner and automotive oracle Dan Neil—was an honorary judge. It seemed rather prestigious.
Then, the insidious tendrils of my undefeated ego crept into my frontal lobe. The thought formed, sharp and clear: “Why not me?”
The truth is, the Audrain isn’t Pebble Beach. If you speak to Jay Leno, he’ll tell you the Audrain is arguably better. I know this because during “The Gathering” at Doris Duke’s iconic Newport “summer cottage”—Rough Point, the Audrain’s answer to The Quail—Spike Feresten and I (yes, the genius behind “No soup for you!” from Seinfeld) recorded a live episode of Spike’s Car Radio with Leno as our special guest.
Leno posited that the Audrain Motor Week mirrors Pebble Beach in its early days, perhaps 15 years ago. Leno, who owns, quote, “a ridiculous house” in Newport, is an absolutely integral part of the Audrain fabric. In fact, the mayor issued a proclamation on October 2, 2025, officially declaring Jay Leno Day.
How Does One Judge? A Question of Perspective
So, here I found myself, serving as a judge during the main event on Sunday. Seated at the judges’ breakfast, surrounded by the aroma of premium coffee and the sizzle of eggs and sausage, head judge Phil Neff posed a question to the room: “Is there anyone here who hasn’t judged a concours?”
Silence.
No hands went up. Including mine.
OK, so I’d never judged a fancy-schmancy Sunday competition like the Audrain Concours. However, I’ve judged the parody event, Concours d’LeMons, so many times that I’ve not only lost count, but I’ve sworn off it for life. Should I have raised my hand? Who knows, but ultimately, it’s cars, isn’t it? How hard could it be? Remember, my ego is undefeated. Why not me?
Neff and his elite team paired me with Ray Evernham, the NASCAR Hall of Famer who has hoisted more trophies than I’ve lost count. He’s the architect of Jeff Gordon’s legendary dynasty. Ray and I clicked instantly. We discovered a shared history of racing at Pikes Peak.
Our task was straightforward: Award the Sporting Choice Award. The objective? Identify the single most sporting car on the lawn. I sought clarification from Neff. Should we lean towards high-performance sports cars, or were we looking for bona fide race cars?
“Yes,” he replied with a knowing smile.
This meant we were responsible for examining and judging every vehicle present that had either two doors or no doors. That’s well over 100 automobiles. And we had precisely two hours to accomplish this monumental feat.
Sporting our judge hats, identifying badges, clipboards, No. 2 pencils, and the obligatory navy blazers, Evernham and I developed a strategy. Like any top-tier concours, the cars are divided into specific classes. We would systematically review each class, identify the car that “popped” the most, and compile a shortlist of our top four or five favorites. Our instructions were clear: Do not get bogged down in the typically tedious, nitpicky minutiae that plagues modern car judging. Who cares if the trunk lining is the wrong hue? In fact, don’t even open the trunk.
Still Not Simple: The Difficulty of Defining Perfection
Two of the classes immediately shattered the illusion of my earlier “Why not me?” fantasy. Class D featured Ford GT40 road cars. Six near-identical, homologation-spec GT40 Mk1s were parading before us. They were all breathtakingly identical, and without microscopic scrutiny of carb-bolt alignment (which we were explicitly told not to do), I have absolutely no idea how you could possibly pick a winner. We couldn’t. To put it bluntly, the people judging Class D had to be genuine, seasoned subject matter experts to make such a call.
The same was true for Class A, the pre-war Alfa Romeo division. It was a staggering collection of six mind-blowingly excellent 8Cs. I couldn’t begin to fathom why the car that eventually won its class secured the victory. However, the burgundy beauty did go on to win Best of Show, and somehow, that felt perfectly right.
Regardless, we still managed to compile a shortlist of our favorites, though sacrifices were inevitable. There was a Lamborghini 3500 GTZ Zagato Coupe that mesmerized me because I’d never even heard of it before. (It turns out only two were ever built, and the other one is being deliberately withheld from public view). Yet, I realized that as novel and “Wow!” as the Zagato Lambo was, it wasn’t going to win the Sporting Choice Award.
Evernham, meanwhile, was completely captivated by an exceedingly rare Allard JR that had raced at the 1952 24 Hours of Le Mans. However, I quickly discovered that Evernham owns three Allards himself, meaning we ought to strike that specific JR from our consideration list. A truly sweet car, nonetheless. Fitted with a Jaguar C-Type body to comply with new Le Mans regulations, yet still powered by a 5.3-liter Cadillac V-8, it remains the most successful of the seven Allard JRs ever constructed.
The Hardest Decision: Finding the Best Sporting Choice
The most difficult decision we faced was awarding third place. It was a toss-up between a 1949 Alfa Romeo 6C 2500 SS Touring Superleggera Coupe and a 1940 Cadillac Series 62 Bonham & Schwartz Convertible Victoria.
I am a fiend for post-war Alfa Romeos. I don’t know precisely why, but I adore them to pieces. I suppose the Bakelite switchgear used throughout the cabin has a certain allure. This particular 6C was finished in a handsome shade of blue and possessed a fantastic backstory. Its current owner hadn’t driven it since 1973 until the day before the Audrain Concours d’Elegance, during the Audrain Tour d’Elegance.
However, we found the Cadillac more compelling in terms of sportiness. It was one of only two ever built, custom-bodied in Pasadena, California, by the very same artisans (Bonham & Schwartz) who crafted Clark Gable’s iconic Duesenberg. The candy-red Series 62 simply popped. It possessed that undeniable “Wow!” factor, the instinctive recognition that sets a special car apart. One of two made, yes, but the only survivor, as its sibling was destroyed in a devastating fire. This masterpiece was built for a wealthy Californian oil baron family: the Doheny clan, the very founders of the little town you might have heard of, Beverly Hills.
We awarded the Cadillac our third-place vote, or in Audrain terminology, Honorable Mention.
The Final Call: An Unforgettable Sporting Champion
For Ray and me, the Sporting Choice Award came down to two exceptional vehicles: an oligarchical 1938 Talbot-
