On Wednesday, I walk into his office and see his socks through the gaping holes on the soles of his shoes, which are propped up on his finely etched solid oak desk. Behind Randy Weiss stands a two-foot bronze bust of an individual to whom he bears a striking resemblance.
Shelves line the wall behind him; they’re filled with worn books that only a scholar would have. Animal trophies representing years of hunting hang proudly on those walls. I saw outside his office a jet-black 2005 Chevrolet Corvette parked safely at one end of the parking lot. Weiss describes his auto treasure as “the greatest American sports car. ”
Two days later, the deep vibrating rumble of a 444 horsepower 302-cubic-inch engine pulls into the parking lot. Weiss, with his predominantly gray hair and nicely trimmed beard, steps out of his 2012 Laguna Seca Limited Edition Boss 302 Ford Mustang wearing a flannel button-up shirt and dirty jeans. He enters the building, heading for his office sanctuary. I join him there and find him leaning confidently with his feet on that regal desk. This time, he’s wearing different shoes that don’t have holes in the soles. Continue reading