In San Francisco, vegetables, Vespas, hybrids, and hydrocarbon-haters rule the political and physical landscape. Sometimes it seems that most San Franciscans would love to banish all gasoline-powered cars from city limits. Granted, driving in San Francisco is an overwhelmingly aggravating experience when trying to hold back four-hundred horsepower and keep a V-8 with a lumpy cam from stalling, flooding, or overheating. The bastard wants to run but has nowhere to go.

Navigating the streets when you are piloting an irreplaceable, one-of-a-kind Kustom, on which you have spent thousands of dollars and painstaking hours fixing up, in a city of red-light-running drivers and aloof pedestrians is harrowing. And yes, in the hot-rod world it is custom with a ‘K.’

Is car culture dead in San Francisco, or is it just running on six cylinders and choking on four-dollar-a-gallon gas? Are there enough enthusiasts left in San Francisco to develop the kind of camaraderie needed to live the Kustom life—or even enough to get a few guys together to install a three-hundred-pound transmission while laying down on a concrete driveway?

It may not seem like San Francisco is teeming with old-car action, but beneath the surface enthusiasts find plenty of fuel burning and gears turning. Inside Porter’s Auto Trim and Upholstery, dust from forty years of trimming foam and fabric coats every unused horizontal surface in the shop that can house roughly six cars. A metallic-blue 1959 Chevrolet station wagon is the only car left in the shop.

Don Porter, short and rail-thin at sixty-four years old, fl ashes a broad smile, revealing stained, chipped teeth. After fifty-nine years in the business, Porter is calling it quits. While some would call it a sign of the times, where custom seats and fl ashy door panels don’t mean much anymore, Porter disagrees.

“It’s not really a sign of the times: it’s a sign that I am getting too damned old to do this shit,” says Porter, as he pulls aqua-blue vinyl over a seat frame from the Chevy. “I’m the last of the old guys here. Most of the other guys have died and sold their shops.”

The names of the old owners still hang outside of the shops, and a new generation of tailors and mechanics reigns. Leaning against the Chevy, Porter gazes forlornly at the floor and says, “As soon as I finish this one…” T

he Chevrolet will be the last restored interior to roll out of this long-standing shop. Porter’s will soon be gone, but there is hope for San Francisco car culture. Annual shows like Jimmy’s Old Car Picnic still attract huge crowds. And other shows are getting more attention, such as The Night of the Living Sleds show at Three Parkside, put on by the SF chapter of the Rumblers car club and SF’s Last Originals.

This year, multiple clubs and over seventy cars showed up to the Living Sleds. The Rumblers car club began in New York twenty years ago under the guidance of Agnostic Front lead singer Roger Miret. SF Chapter President Ritchie Rich says that the group is made up of hardcore punks and skins, not the greasers and rockabilly-types that make up most car clubs. The San Francisco chapter has eight members and was officially sanctioned by the Los Angeles chapter in November 2001. But don’t get excited just because you are a blue-collar cat with a sweet pre-’63 ride. Signing up is not as easy as putting in a friend request on MySpace.

“It is a year-long prospecting process to get welcomed into the club,” says Rich. “There is no jumping in, and we don’t beat anyone down or anything, but [prospects] can’t speak. They have to pay dues; they have to do whatever we say.”

Prospects will likely find themselves holding parking spots for other members before shows, selling merchandise, and standing in the rain until the Rumblers are “done doing whatever we are doing,” Rich says. “It is a little harsh, but it is all in good love.”

Although many clubs are for men only, ladies can be more than just eye-candy. The San Francisco chapter of the Hell’s Belles is the city’s premier women’s car club, and the members are very involved in the local show scene. Club President Jamie O’Keefe is Jimmy’s daughter (of Jimmy’s Old Car Picnic), so it’s no surprise that the fifth-generation San Franciscan is deeply involved with the local car scene.

“I grew up going to car shows, swap meets, and junkyards, so it was natural that I would be into classic cars too,” O’Keefe says. “I am very much into history and I love that my car is older than me and that other people have owned it. I love that connection to history. What was going on in 1963 when my car was driving around? What did my car experience? Who owned it? Where did they go in it? I love thinking about these things,” she says about her 1963 Ford Falcon Futura convertible. O’Keefe digs classic iron as much as the next gal, but admits that there are some hardships keeping the old girls going in SF.

“If your car is really big—mine isn’t too bad—parking is a nightmare. The foggy climate can eat away at your car; it’s a matter of constant vigilance and maintenance,” O’Keefe says. “Ideally you’d like to always have a garage or a covered parking spot for your old car, but since SF is so expensive, it’s hard to make that happen. There are also lots of ‘distracted’ drivers out there who don’t see a problem ‘hitting and running’ your car because it’s old,” she adds.

Her dad Jimmy O’Keefe’s Old Car Picnic began in 1988 as a gathering of friends and cars for Jimmy’s birthday. He has been a gardener at Golden Gate Park for more than thirty-five years, and the gathering celebrated his community involvement. “Jimmy has a lot of friends, and lots of them have old cars, so it was only natural,” says his daughter.

“It was so much fun [that] it happened the next year and the next, with friends inviting other friends and so on, and it expanded by word of mouth, pretty much to what it is today. There are people from Hunter’s Point hanging out with people from Pacific Heights and they are all into each others’ cars. Cops are chatting with Hell’s Angels—it’s San Francisco at its very best,” says O’Keefe.

The Picnic also benefits the SF Park and Recreation Department’s Adaptive Recreation Program. The program helps people with Down’s Syndrome and other developmental disabilities enjoy the park and city recreational facilities and activities. “We aren’t profiting from the Picnic. It is a charity event,” says Jamie O’Keefe. “Believe me, if we were profiting from the Picnic, my car wouldn’t be in as crappy shape as it’s in—the photo on the Belles’ site is its ‘good side.’”

Vintage car culture will continue on the streets of San Francisco and in the hearts of hot-rod-loving residents. 2008’s Picnic will celebrate its twentieth year, and rumor has it that the event will be more spectacular than ever. So if you think car culture is dead in San Francisco, make tracks to Jimmy’s Picnic next October, find a car club that fits your profile, and get involved—otherwise you will just be stuck spinning your wheels.