A winery's great, grapeless vintage

So here we are in the Columbia River Gorge touring wineries.

My camera holstered on my belt, I have sweeping panoramas before me. The great river, the mountains, the rim rock, the waterfalls.

Rustic barns, piles of wine casks, parades of staked vines meandering across rolling, verdant fields.

Gnarled and stately oaks washed in spring sunlight.

All begging to be photographed.

And what draws my eye? Where do I point my lens?

Convertibles parked in the winery parking lot, of course.

A group of middle-aged guys from Ellensburg are caravanning through the wine country. Proud of their gleaming, top-down steeds.

They call themselves “The Topless Club.”

“Of course,” says a woman friend with a boys-will-be-boys sneer.

So here’s a Triumph TR2 (vintage 1955). The cutaway door puts you a reach away from the pavement.

Over there is a Karmann Ghia VW of the same era. It’s painted a green so dark that at first glance it appears black.

Great old cars. A winery’s best vintage.