As the Concours d’Lemons enters its 14th year, the event’s popularity continues to grow.

LEMONS HAVE BEEN CULTIVATED FOR MILLENNIA, AND PERHAPS NO OTHER FRUIT HAS PROVED MORE USEFUL FOR HUMANITY. Lemons add acidity and flavor to dishes across the world. They stave off scurvy. They can be used for aromatherapy and even to bleach one’s hair. And with the addition of sugar, their juice has been harnessed by generations of American kids to raise a little cash.

Why is it, then, that such a beloved fruit became synonymous with crappy cars, so much so that a federal statute regarding product warranties – the Magnuson-Moss Warranty Act, enacted in 1975 – became commonly known as the lemon law?

The usage of the term lemon to describe substandard products started in America in 1909, and by 1960, became a common way to describe cars that left something to be desired.

Yet for a certain subset of automotive enthusiasts, a lemon is something to be desired, and they embrace the term with gusto.

Alan Galbraith, who founded Concours d’Lemons and carries the title of “head gasket” of the event, jokes that arrest records indicate it was started in Seaside in 2009. It has since become a mainstay of Car Week, and unlike most of the week’s events, it’s free, making it a subversive – and inclusive – complement to the high-falutin’ affairs in Pebble Beach and elsewhere.

Hagerty, the upscale lifestyle and collector car insurance company, operates Concours d’Lemons, and has presented the event alongside the prestigious Amelia Island, Florida show, as well as in Detroit, Chattanooga and the Cobble Beach affair in Canada.

“It was originally intended to be a little bit of a joke, but what we quickly found is that it was something a lot more,” Galbraith says. “It gave people a home in Car Week that didn’t have a home anywhere else.”

The show’s identity is now fully formed, and showcases, Galbraith says, “Good examples of bad cars and bad examples of good cars.” Some of the taglines on its website include, “Celebrate the un-best” and “low power to the people.”

Bribing judges is encouraged, as are costumes, songs, stories – anything that might give the owner of a lemon a competitive edge. That might entail serving judges wine, cheese and baguettes for one showcasing a French car, or limoncello, wine and pasta for an Italian model.

Andy Reid, an automotive journalist, has been a judge at d’Lemons from the start, and says some of the cars at the event are even more rare than many found at Pebble Beach, in large part because very few people collected them. One example he cites is the Chevy Chevette, which had the tagline “It will drive you happy.” But, Reid says, “It never drove anyone happy, because they’re terrible cars.”

Yet, he says, “Lemons gets a rap for only being crappy cars. That’s not fair,” though he quickly adds, “Anything from Mitsubishi qualifies, because it’s a terrible brand.”

But that doesn’t mean those who own them don’t also love them – Reid recalls one entrant who allegedly spent more than $100,000 to refurbish a Pinto. To that point, Galbraith says, “The market is not fond of these cars, but their owners are.”

The winning car of the event is given the title of “worst in show,” and its owner is given a trophy procured from a thrift store and is showered with silly string (one past winner, Galbraith says, was a motorized Port-A-Potty).

And that, Galbraith says, gets to the heart of what the event is all about.

“A lot of the folks are just as passionate about their Pinto as people at Pebble Beach are about their Ferrari,” Galbraith says.

And at the end of the day, it’s about having fun. “If you leave smiling and laughing about something, and heard a good story, then we’re doing our job. That’s what it’s really all about.”

Or as Reid says, “The cars are just a conduit for the people you meet.”