Last week, I headed to Vegas for the SEMA Show, where I caught up with colleagues, moderated panels, led a media tour—and attended a wedding.
Watching two complete strangers tie the knot wasn’t exactly on my packed agenda. But looking back, it was a perfect match. Pun intended.
I first heard about the event two days before from my friend Michelle Suzuki.
“Then at 1 pm, there’s the wedding.”
“The whaat?” I asked, convinced I had misheard her.
“Oh, there’s a wedding in the CTEK booth.” She said casually.
“Like, a real wedding?” I confirmed.
“Yup,” she said, smiling.
“Oh, I’m there.”
I promptly rearranged my schedule, offered a few apologies, and made room for the festivities. Not because I’m particularly sentimental about weddings, but because this was the first wedding at SEMA, and there was no way I was going to miss it.
Who Wants A SEMA Wedding?
Leading up to the ceremony, the idea attracted plenty of criticism.
“Who gets married at SEMA?”
“WHY would anyone get married at SEMA?”
“That’s ridiculous.” Even the Internet’s sharpest automotive critic expressed its harsh POV:
Some of the criticism was fair. But I saw things differently.
My Own Ridiculous Vegas Wedding
Twenty-six years ago, I got hitched in Las Vegas.
We didn’t particularly want a Sin City ceremony, but with our families scattered across three continents, a strong language barrier, and wildly different cultural expectations, finding a significant, attainable, beautiful nuptial location seemed impossible. So, on a random Saturday afternoon, with zero planning, we eloped.
Our venue was The Little Chapel by the Courthouse, which is precisely as tacky as it sounds. An explosion of pink and purple, the “chapel” is run by a husband and wife who took the ceremony considerably more seriously than we did. She wore a dress, her hair perfectly coiffed, her makeup flawless. He wore a suit, his hair slicked to the side, with a fresh white rose pinned to his lapel. I rocked my favorite board shorts and my signature turquoise leather jacket. I may have even brushed my hair. My husband was in flip-flops and a T-shirt. The ceremony was simple and straightforward, especially given our lack of preparation. But when the officiant asked for the rings, we replied in unison:
“Do we have to?”
She shrugged, looked at her husband, and said, “I guess not.”
Twenty-six years later, we still don’t have rings. Turns out, we never needed them. I’d show you our wedding photo, but that was an extra $300.
My Annual SEMA Pilgrimage
Every November, I pack my bags, hop on a plane, and spend at least 48 hours wandering around the Las Vegas Convention Center. My husband has always wanted to come with me, but somehow, the timing never works out. So, year after year, I head to Vegas without him. Some years, I see no one I know, spend nights alone nursing my sore feet, and fall asleep from exhaustion, only to wake up and do it all again the next day. And yet, I always return. Because while SEMA isn’t filled with people that look like me, it’s packed with those who share my passion for cars. We may have nothing else in common, other than that the sight of an ornately engraved, ridiculously lifted truck makes us all smile.
We may disagree politically, but we can all agree that Gabby Downing’s E30 is awesome:
Outside of the convention center, many attendees would dismiss me as a California Libtard. But when we’re kneeling side by side, trying to capture a photo of the perfect Impala, we’re simply two people enjoying the same thing.
Would I Get Married At SEMA? Absolutely Not.
I love the show, but my automotive devotion has limits, and exchanging vows under fluorescent convention-center lighting is one of them. But here’s what I appreciate about their decision. My husband and I chose Las Vegas because it was convenient. We didn’t need rings, a fancy ceremony, or even a wedding photo. Shaun and Rose chose SEMA because it meant something to them. And I get that.
While I wouldn’t trade our ridiculous wedding adventure for anything, I’ve sometimes wished we’d married somewhere with a little more personal significance. Somewhere we could return to, years later, and remember not just the day, but why we chose that place in the first place.
The Case For A SEMA Wedding
No one gets their panties in a bunch when people book their nuptials with Disney. Even if the Magic Kingdom makes you want to run away screaming, you suck it up, pack your nice clothes, and go. And let’s not even start on destination weddings, where guests are expected to take time off, dip into our savings, and fly halfway around the globe to watch someone else say “I do.” Yet, somehow, getting married in a place where you already share a passion, a community, and a reason to gather is getting heat?
For Shaun Hawkins and Rose Hastings, co-founders of Drive Life, a SEMA wedding made perfect sense. Their friends and colleagues are already in attendance. The entertainment was baked in. And rather than asking everyone to travel somewhere unfamiliar and/or insignificant, they chose a place that was already part of their lives. The cherry on top? Cirro Ciampi of Petrolhedonism officiated using a copy of The Car Bible.
Yes, SEMA is a trade show. It is a place for serious discussions, impactful education, and significant deals. But for many of us, our industry is more than a job. It’s a community. A shared language. A source of joy, identity, and connection. So when two English car enthusiasts travel to America to get hitched at the altar of automotive, why would the response be anything other than ‘Congratulations’?
My only regret is that I spotted this gorgeously wrapped wedding car after the happy couple had already left.
