Hot Import Nights - Baltimore, MD - The More Dangerous
Scene: Hot Import Nights; Baltimore Convention Center; Baltimore
By Roel F. Concepcion, Photography by Roel F. Concepcion
Sweaty and dejected, fresh off the heels of a five-hour flight from L.A., we stumbled toward the altogether pleasant downtown of Baltimore, one of the last stopovers Hot Import Nights (HIN) made in its nationwide car-show bombardment filled with a kingdom of fly women and wild cars-a playground for mass tuners. The event revealed how well the East Coast can rock it, with an overflow of West-Coast-influenced vehicles that even we, purveyors of all things Californian, were shocked to see. We guess they do indeed read the magazine.
Aisle by aisle, hall by hall, the Baltimore Convention Center facilitated one of the best HINs for 2003. Even the van-full of Baltimore's best criminals, who sweated us for crossing in front of their van with only our trusty tripod for protection, couldn't sway us away from the lights and splendor of HIN. Yeah, we could've said something to them, like, "Hey, we're from L.A., ya heard?" or perhaps made a gun with our hands and stuck it inside our jacket pocket and threaten them to keep away. But no, this is the Baltimore HIN; we overlook stupidity like that. Besides, our tripods can only protect for so long, and that expensive Primedia wide-angle lens cannot be broken.
Tuners from New Jersey to Virginia flocked to the city famous for birds-Orioles and Ravens-and we couldn't have possibly missed it. Our famous booth was there, ready to make the unknown known via the products in the accompanying poster. The HIN dancers were tearin' up the stage, despite the fact that, in their tenure as HIN dancers, they've transformed into mere strippers-ultra, ultra-light. And, of course, the Super Street fans came in droves, asking for autographs, pictures, and, oddly enough, a fresh bottle of Astro Glide. Indeed, they do read the magazine. Most importantly, Baltimore was hotter than sewer smoke, and here are the pictures to prove it.
By Roel F. Concepcion
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