In Josh’s “All” thread, a few of you touched on a subject that I had one day planned to share with the group, but wasn’t quite ready do. I’m still not near ready to, but since we’re kind of on that subject, let me throw it out there. Go get a cup of coffee and sit back. This is a long read...
Do you remember my Where will your car be in 50 years? thread? What that thread was about was two things. First, it’s something I’ve been personally thinking about for the last few years. And second, in a sense it was research. And some of you may have noticed, but I never posted my answer. Here it is:
I want my cars to be owned by everyone who can share in the same passion I feel for them, everyone that the cars invoke a special feeling in, and everyone who can appreciate the cars for more than their value or rarity. Cars are not investments, they are our heritage. To me, what makes my cars special is their personal history, their context in automotive history, and what they have the power to make someone feel. One car is a one-off professional car with an interesting history of coachwork, and the other is 1 of 282 made British sports car that makes many of us hear ’80’s music, recall horrible clothing styles, and picture James Bond ordering a martini. So does it matter that they are rare or possibly value? Not a lot. I get more enjoyment out of showing the neighborhood kids how stuff on them works or telling them about the cars, and by listening to the stories of the people I meet at car shows who have all sorts of stuff to say. Why? Because I remember being that kid and that guy at the car show, and had it not been for that, I would be a very different person than I am today.
Now to the dilemma. Jen and I have talked over the past many years about having children. We’re now in our mid-thirties and have nearly decided that having children is not the right decision for us (keep opinions about this out of this thread, please). So one day, what becomes of my collection? Today it’s my two collector cars, and one day it will include at least another two of our own and my father’s current three cars. What does one do at the end of their life with no kids, possibly no one to inherit the estate, and seven or more collector cars? I jokingly coined the term baseball card cars for what I fear the most may happen to my collection. When I was much younger, I remember sitting in school with my stack of baseball cards talking about how great my Ken Griffey Jr. rookie card from Upper Deck was. I carried it around in its protective sleeve, showed it to my fellow card collectors, and every few months would look up its current value in the Beckett price guide. Today, I can’t tell you who he played for. Today, I can’t tell you what ever became of that card. Today, and most saddening, I can’t even tell you why I owned it. Twenty plus years later, I look back at this and see a trend of this form of “collecting” in today’s collector car market. And it’s more than cars of course, it’s all automobilia. I think about things like Steve Loftin’s and Tom McPherson’s collections of photos and literature, my friend Emmett’s collection of rare muscle car and hot rod engines and racing parts, and my friend Ed’s collection of early car magazines, club publications, and advertisements. Oh yes, and my collection of diecast cars and models spanning the last 70 years. Wouldn’t it be devastating to the collective automotive world if these things disappeared for ever?
So, as I meet more and more people in car circles around the country, I’m growing increasingly aware of a sad perspective of the future of the collector car’s place in the world. Many collectors today don’t know what the future holds for the automobiles and automobilia they hold so dearly. And as I look at the hobby, its future appears to be lending itself to a hobby of collecting cars not for the pure enjoyment of the automobile, its historical context, or its aesthetic appeal, but more to the likings of class-defined baseball card collecting. Car collectors should say, “Look what I’ve got” passionately for an automobile because it’s special to them and they want to share that, not because they want others to see what they’ve paid a lot of money for to say they could.
Back to the first dilemma, what do I do to share my cars with people who can enjoy the cars as I have and not allow them to become baseball card cars? I’ve thought about this a lot, and ultimately, I came up with one good solution. I won’t give my cars to my nieces/nephews if they don’t share the passion. I won’t give them away to friends and acquaintances one by one, and wouldn’t know who to give them to anyway. And, I would like to not just donate them all to a museum. So the solution? Start a foundation and trust. In researching museums across the world, I’ve learned this is actually how most got started. Take a person whose love for the automobile goes further than their own garage, who wanted their own legacy and passion to be something that could be shared long after they’re gone, and who understood what a car is, all cars, to the world as we know it. This is who I’ve come to learn I am.
And this is who I hope to become...
Founder of the Borkat Automotive Heritage Museum and Trust. A draft Mission statement/About the foundation:
The Borkat Museum is an independent nonprofit organization dedicated to the collection, preservation, presentation, and celebration of the automobile, its history, and its cultural impact. The foundation’s primary focus is the sharing of auto enthusiasts’ legacies left for future generations and their endless passion for the automobile.
The museum is more than just a collection of automobiles, but rather it is a collection of the fuel that’s driven the passion for the automobile since its inception. The collection features not only the automobile, but the personal history of the automobiles and their past owners. Other exhibits display automotive literature, art, advertising, collectables, and other forms of automobilia. The museum also features an interactive center for children and adults alike to experience the automobile in ways they never have. From classic cars to sit in, to educational films, to the hands on science of automotive mechanics, the museum has something for every level of hobbyist.
Chapter two, my current dilemma. What does it take to start? Money, and lots of it. If my love for cars were enough, I’d have started the greatest car museum the world has ever known. Sadly, I couldn’t get two bits for that. But I do have a plan. Step one, save about $5,000 to hire an attorney. To become a 501(c)(3) non-profit organization in GA, there is a ton of paperwork and forms. Some law firms specialize in forming organizations, and this is where I’ll start. I actually have a preliminary meeting setup with an attorney to discuss the overall concept. Once I can license an organization name, select a board of directors, become an incorporated organization in GA, I can then legally pursue benefactors, volunteers, and donations. Best yet, once incorporated, I can go ask our government for money. Thanks to the Federal Financial Assistance Management Improvement Act of 1999, I can apply, and hopefully be awarded, federal grants which would help me get started with advertising, property/storage, and acquisition. Remember, this is just a starting point. I won't get into all of it here, but I actually have a few pages written of how advertising, donations, design, and management would be handled.
I’m not one of the people who could start a foundation by my own financial means (the Petersen Automotive Museum was started using Margie and Robert Petersen’s own $30 million), but I have the idea, and the idea itself can be more valuable than money!
Constructive criticism welcome...
PS Thank you all who took the time to respond to my Where will your car be in 50 years? thread. I greatly appreciate it.
Do you remember my Where will your car be in 50 years? thread? What that thread was about was two things. First, it’s something I’ve been personally thinking about for the last few years. And second, in a sense it was research. And some of you may have noticed, but I never posted my answer. Here it is:
I want my cars to be owned by everyone who can share in the same passion I feel for them, everyone that the cars invoke a special feeling in, and everyone who can appreciate the cars for more than their value or rarity. Cars are not investments, they are our heritage. To me, what makes my cars special is their personal history, their context in automotive history, and what they have the power to make someone feel. One car is a one-off professional car with an interesting history of coachwork, and the other is 1 of 282 made British sports car that makes many of us hear ’80’s music, recall horrible clothing styles, and picture James Bond ordering a martini. So does it matter that they are rare or possibly value? Not a lot. I get more enjoyment out of showing the neighborhood kids how stuff on them works or telling them about the cars, and by listening to the stories of the people I meet at car shows who have all sorts of stuff to say. Why? Because I remember being that kid and that guy at the car show, and had it not been for that, I would be a very different person than I am today.
Now to the dilemma. Jen and I have talked over the past many years about having children. We’re now in our mid-thirties and have nearly decided that having children is not the right decision for us (keep opinions about this out of this thread, please). So one day, what becomes of my collection? Today it’s my two collector cars, and one day it will include at least another two of our own and my father’s current three cars. What does one do at the end of their life with no kids, possibly no one to inherit the estate, and seven or more collector cars? I jokingly coined the term baseball card cars for what I fear the most may happen to my collection. When I was much younger, I remember sitting in school with my stack of baseball cards talking about how great my Ken Griffey Jr. rookie card from Upper Deck was. I carried it around in its protective sleeve, showed it to my fellow card collectors, and every few months would look up its current value in the Beckett price guide. Today, I can’t tell you who he played for. Today, I can’t tell you what ever became of that card. Today, and most saddening, I can’t even tell you why I owned it. Twenty plus years later, I look back at this and see a trend of this form of “collecting” in today’s collector car market. And it’s more than cars of course, it’s all automobilia. I think about things like Steve Loftin’s and Tom McPherson’s collections of photos and literature, my friend Emmett’s collection of rare muscle car and hot rod engines and racing parts, and my friend Ed’s collection of early car magazines, club publications, and advertisements. Oh yes, and my collection of diecast cars and models spanning the last 70 years. Wouldn’t it be devastating to the collective automotive world if these things disappeared for ever?
So, as I meet more and more people in car circles around the country, I’m growing increasingly aware of a sad perspective of the future of the collector car’s place in the world. Many collectors today don’t know what the future holds for the automobiles and automobilia they hold so dearly. And as I look at the hobby, its future appears to be lending itself to a hobby of collecting cars not for the pure enjoyment of the automobile, its historical context, or its aesthetic appeal, but more to the likings of class-defined baseball card collecting. Car collectors should say, “Look what I’ve got” passionately for an automobile because it’s special to them and they want to share that, not because they want others to see what they’ve paid a lot of money for to say they could.
Back to the first dilemma, what do I do to share my cars with people who can enjoy the cars as I have and not allow them to become baseball card cars? I’ve thought about this a lot, and ultimately, I came up with one good solution. I won’t give my cars to my nieces/nephews if they don’t share the passion. I won’t give them away to friends and acquaintances one by one, and wouldn’t know who to give them to anyway. And, I would like to not just donate them all to a museum. So the solution? Start a foundation and trust. In researching museums across the world, I’ve learned this is actually how most got started. Take a person whose love for the automobile goes further than their own garage, who wanted their own legacy and passion to be something that could be shared long after they’re gone, and who understood what a car is, all cars, to the world as we know it. This is who I’ve come to learn I am.
And this is who I hope to become...
Founder of the Borkat Automotive Heritage Museum and Trust. A draft Mission statement/About the foundation:
The Borkat Museum is an independent nonprofit organization dedicated to the collection, preservation, presentation, and celebration of the automobile, its history, and its cultural impact. The foundation’s primary focus is the sharing of auto enthusiasts’ legacies left for future generations and their endless passion for the automobile.
The museum is more than just a collection of automobiles, but rather it is a collection of the fuel that’s driven the passion for the automobile since its inception. The collection features not only the automobile, but the personal history of the automobiles and their past owners. Other exhibits display automotive literature, art, advertising, collectables, and other forms of automobilia. The museum also features an interactive center for children and adults alike to experience the automobile in ways they never have. From classic cars to sit in, to educational films, to the hands on science of automotive mechanics, the museum has something for every level of hobbyist.
Chapter two, my current dilemma. What does it take to start? Money, and lots of it. If my love for cars were enough, I’d have started the greatest car museum the world has ever known. Sadly, I couldn’t get two bits for that. But I do have a plan. Step one, save about $5,000 to hire an attorney. To become a 501(c)(3) non-profit organization in GA, there is a ton of paperwork and forms. Some law firms specialize in forming organizations, and this is where I’ll start. I actually have a preliminary meeting setup with an attorney to discuss the overall concept. Once I can license an organization name, select a board of directors, become an incorporated organization in GA, I can then legally pursue benefactors, volunteers, and donations. Best yet, once incorporated, I can go ask our government for money. Thanks to the Federal Financial Assistance Management Improvement Act of 1999, I can apply, and hopefully be awarded, federal grants which would help me get started with advertising, property/storage, and acquisition. Remember, this is just a starting point. I won't get into all of it here, but I actually have a few pages written of how advertising, donations, design, and management would be handled.
I’m not one of the people who could start a foundation by my own financial means (the Petersen Automotive Museum was started using Margie and Robert Petersen’s own $30 million), but I have the idea, and the idea itself can be more valuable than money!
Constructive criticism welcome...
PS Thank you all who took the time to respond to my Where will your car be in 50 years? thread. I greatly appreciate it.
