In 1988, I paid my own way to Monterey for the resurrected US Grand Prix, stayed in squalid (for Monterey) conditions with my girlfriend, and loved it anyway. In 1989, I was back again but working for Cycle magazine (!), who put us up in a beautiful hotel on Cannery Row with a hot tub on the roof that commanded a panoramic view of Monterey Bay. That’s where Lorene and I met Guy Webster. We exchanged pleasantries, and when he learned I was a magazine guy, he said, “Oh, I have a small collection, you should come see it sometime.”
Guy’s small collection, in a barn in Ojai, California, blew my doors off, and first exposed me to the yawning lifestyle gulf between everything I’d known before, and what was to come in my new life in California. Sad to learn he’s suffered some health problems and will be auctioning off most of his collection, but he sounds like the same happy, upbeat character we met decades ago.
Charles Fleming has an excellent story about Guy in the LA Times here.