What the world needs now is dorks, more dorks.

My mom called me a dork before I even knew what the term meant. At a formative age, I turned to that big red book on the top shelf and was even more confused: a whale’s WHAT?! But in her nurturing mind, it was a term of endearment, a way for her to show me that by being a dork, I was superior in intellect from those around me—or at least this is what I’m telling myself now. I was smarter, wittier, and more apt to solve problems than the non-dorks out there. I embraced my dorkdom. So, yes, we need more dorks—especially on the East Coast.

 

It was only recently that I found that I was not alone in reveling in my dorkdom. For me, being a dork just meant that my close family members saw me as some sort of mental virtuoso (please note, there are no brain surgeons in my family). I was drawn to all things dorky, including plaid pants, chunky horn-rim glasses, and even using a more formal version of my name: Nicole. I was a Queen Dork, and opening up Roundel to read of something called Dorkfest just about made me do backflips—until I realized that I had no idea what Dorkfest was.

 

It turns out that BMW’s E36-based Z3 coupe is affectionately called a dork car by its fans—a happy group of dorks—and West Coast owners get together for a Dorkfest every now and then; their next such meeting will be in Monterey during Oktoberfest.

 

A Z3 M coupe? Sign me up for one, I’d look good in it.

 

The thing about Dorkfest that appealed to me was the notion of a group of like-minded people, all with common threads, common egos, and even more importantly, a common sense of humor. There aren’t many people in the world who would proudly call themselves dorks in public; even fewer would admit to wanting to hang around with a bunch of dorks. But Dorkfest was out of my reach, because it seemed to be strictly a West Coast phenomenon.

 

I had no idea that right on my back doorstep there was an East Coast version, Der Schuh Syndikat, begging me to come and be dorky. (Other terms for the dork car include the clown shoe, and Eric Peck, the brain, brawn, and bigwig of the event, came up with the name as a tribute to a German event: BMW Syndikat-Asphaltfieber, which takes place every year near Obermehler, Germany.)

 

Peck is a dork-lover at heart, but going all the way across the country was a little out of the realm of possibility for him, too; like most enthusiasts, we DO have day jobs that help support our motorsport addictions. Peck just happens to be a little bit better at managing his time and resources (and he has one hell of a wife to help him out every step of the way), so he promoted an East Coast dork meet in North Carolina.

 

Der Schuh Syndikat was geared (pun intended) with a broader scope in mind. Instead of just looking at the cars, there are events lined up to demonstrate why these cars pull our heartstrings like a bad soap opera. The icing on this particular dork cake was a ride up the twisty mountains to Little Switzerland, a fairytale mountaintop in western North Carolina. What better place for a photo op? Combine a bunch of quirky little cars with a Disney World backdrop, throw in a picturesque mountain range in the background, and you’ve got the makings of a magazine cover.

 

Where else could you go, enter your car in a show-and-shine, and have a chance at winning a genuine—no cheap knock-offs—clown-shoe trophy? Ordered directly from the Interwebs and mounted on a fantastic base, it’s the Grand Daddy prize of all dorkdom. It’d look great on any fireplace mantle, bookshelf, or—well, maybe in the closet when guests come over.

 

Unique trophy aside, chances are that nobody came away from Der Schuh Syndikat empty-handed. This year alone there were more than 40 items donated for the raffle, with all proceeds going to the Michael J. Fox foundation (there is a road-racing tie-in here, but that’s a whole ’nother column).

 

People came from great lengths to attend this East Coast gathering, and although Peck fell short of the 65 dork cars he’d hoped for, the event is growing. One brave soul even hopped in his car and drove all the way from Key Largo just to fraternize with fellow dorks. As I left, there was still one shuh on its way down Highway 77, braving the rain and the ever-changing weather just to attend this epic event. Truth be told, he had a cracked oil-filter cap and was a little bummed about it, but it didn’t keep him from coming.

 

Being around such great individuals with the same dorkish philosophy was a great experience, and I want to see Der Schuh Syndikat grow. The Z3 M coupe is rare—although not as rare as its non-M cousin—but if you’ve got one, you should flaunt it. Peck is focused on a Drive For 65; he wants to see at least 65 dork cars all together, which would set a record—unless the West Coast Dorkfest raises the bar in Monterey.

 

Did I mention you get an awesome shirt? What more do you need?—Nikki Weed