Carmen Vera is in the business of buying and restoring classic cars. She stands out when she brings her fresh build-outs to places like Pomona Swap Meet, where gearheads, lowriders and hot-rodders have met to show off their cars since the 1970s.

“This arrogant man came up to me with a cigar and said, ‘Let me guess, this is your old man’s car,’” said Vera. “It blew his mind when I told him it was mine.”

Vera, who was born and raised in northeast Los Angeles, grew up watching her dad and cousins fixing up their cars in the lowrider scene of 1990s Los Angeles. “Whatever I know, I’ve learned from my dad or playing with my own cars,” said Vera. “And as a single mom, I needed to learn how to rotate a tire or do an oil change on my own.”

In the past seven years, Vera built her own restoration company while working full-time, one of four businesses she owns, and later became a partner with Sal Rivas at Pasadena Classic Car. Her customer base now stretches from Los Angeles to Mexico, Arizona, Hawaii and Texas. Her young daughter loves being in the shop too, watching her mom transform cars from junk into treasure.

For Vera, restoring old cars isn’t just a job, it’s an art. “To me these cars have a family story that I fall in love with,” said Vera.

So when a trio of smoke-damaged and burned Chevrolets pulled from a garage that collapsed during the Eaton fire — including an original 1972 C10 pickup — arrived at the shop, Vera had a vision.

“I built that full-restoration truck in seven months with original parts,” said Vera, whose goal, which she attained, was to showcase it in October at the Specialty Equipment Market Association Show, an annual, industry-only automotive trade show held in Las Vegas.

“The point was to bring back what burned,” said Vera.

For seven months, she worked from 5 a.m. to 11 a.m. every day with her team restoring the truck. “My crew is the best,” said Vera. “They’re professionals … they believe in my dream.”

“I started this business 19 years ago, and I think this is one of the best builds we’ve done,” said Rivas, who was raised in Altadena. For him, this build hit different. “Man, that thing went from ashes to new life,” said Rivas.

A photo of the burned-out 1972 Chevy C10 short bed, scorched in the Eaton fire in Altadena and now refurbished by Vera.

The restored 1972 Chevy C10 is finished in a burnt orange exterior, paired with a pearlescent white leather interior. The build was completed as a full body-off-frame restoration — a process that separates the truck’s body from its chassis to rebuild each component from the ground up, with original components carefully sourced and preserved wherever possible. Nearly all of the work was done in-house, including fabrication and a handmade interior produced through Vera’s own upholstery department, reflecting an emphasis on craftsmanship and historical continuity rather than cosmetic overhaul. Rebuilds of this caliber often run into the hundreds of thousands of dollars and Vera paid for everything out of pocket, though she wouldn’t say how much it actually ended up costing. Once Vera was done with it, the C10 was ready for the SEMA Show, where it received nothing but good feedback.

Rivas noted, however, that at SEMA, 80% of people who walked up to their booth couldn’t believe it was Vera’s car. “They thought I was just a car model or something,” said Vera, who reports that men’s demeanors change the instant she starts talking about her car.

Vera sits in the 1972 Chevy C10 short bed that she spent seven months — from 5 a.m. to 11 a.m. every day — restoring with her team.

A view of new LS engine conversion in the 1972 Chevy C10 short bed.

“[Vera] is definitely in a category of her own,” said Crystal Avila, marketing and media manager at FiTech Fuel Injection, a fuel injection manufacturer, who met Vera at last year’s SEMA where she showcased the C10. Avila recognized the C10 from social media — a video of the original owner cracking a beer and crying over his Chevy collection which was all but gutted in the Eaton fires. She was instantly impressed with Vera’s work. Avila noted that because SEMA functions primarily as a manufacturer showcase, it was especially significant that multiple vendors chose to feature Vera’s cars — a rare distinction that underscored the industry’s recognition of her work.

Elaborate build-outs typically require multiple specialized teams at every level — from fuel injection and bodywork to upholstery — whereas Vera does all of her work in-house with her own team, handling the interior, fabrication and installation.

Vera is a self-described “Chevy girl.” In addition to the C10, she restored a 1964 blue Chevy Impala bubble top. “When these cars come in, I have relationships with them, and I hate to see them leave,” said Vera.

But her favorite car to drive is her first: a pink 1979 Oldsmobile Cutlass that she saved up for and bought on OfferUp for $4,000. “That’s how I learned how to fix up classic cars and how the market works,” said Vera. She said she fell in love with the car in the time she spent restoring it back to life. “She saw my struggle, she knows the pain I was going through while I was building her up,” said Vera, who explains she was going through a difficult time with her family while she worked on the Oldsmobile. “She’s my number one baby.”

“We’re a full-restoration shop,” said Rivas. “[Cars] come in as junk, and leave as works of art.” But the C10 is special as both a rebuild and as a piece of personal history, not only for Rivas and Vera and their team, but for Angelenos and fire survivors.

“We haven’t taken it out to Altadena yet,” said Rivas, but it’s on the schedule. “We’re taking it to the big shows first, then out to the street to see what the feedback is,” said Rivas, noting that the story of the truck from fires to finish has already been well-circulated online.

“I see the beauty in these cars,” said Vera. “I want to put a classic car back out in the streets, one at a time, every single day if I can.”

VERONA, Italy — The Winter Olympics are officially over. We were among the thousands of people who helped bid them goodbye in a Roman amphitheater in Verona, Italy, on Sunday, with a ceremony that was mostly sentimental but punctuated by rousing bursts of lights, confetti and electropop music.

The closing ceremony echoed some of the pomp and circumstance of its opening counterpart 16 days earlier: the athletes’ Parade of Nations, the raising of flags, the respective lighting and extinguishing of the two Olympic cauldrons (in Milan and Cortina).

But after two-and-a-half weeks of fierce competition, storied traditions and emotional ups and downs, this celebration had a noticeably more relaxed feel — at least among athletes and spectators.

The night’s musical performances brought high-tech set design to a roughly 2,000-year-old amphitheater.

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For one, the Verona Arena — which was built around 30 AD for gladiator battles — holds a considerably smaller crowd than Milan’s San Siro stadium (some 15,000 vs. 75,000 people). It’s an open-air venue with stone seats, which made for a fair bit of shuffling around (and occasional phone calls) among spectators. Each seat held a tote bag with a slim seat cushion in it, to make the two-and-a-half hour event a little cozier.

The closing ceremony’s Parade of Nations was essentially just a parade of flag-bearers, but unlike the opening ceremony, it went without an announcer. This time, the snow queens in puffer-coat-gowns from the opening ceremony were replaced with volunteers wearing loose-fitting tunics, the ceremony equivalent of putting on sweatpants after a hard day’s work.

Even the athletes were dressed more for comfort this time around. Team USA, outfitted by Ralph Lauren for the 10th straight Games, traded their opening ceremony pleated trousers and wool coats for streetwear-inspired baggy pants and puffer jackets.

Hunter Wonders parades with other members of Team USA at the closing ceremony at the Verona Arena in Verona, Italy, on Sunday.

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The event was a little shorter than the opening, but there was still a ton to take in. There were the requisite speeches from International Olympic Committee President Kirsty Coventry and the head of the Italian organizing committee, with many, many thanks given to the regional hosts and the 80,000 volunteers who staffed the Games (some of whom were watching next to us in the stands).

There was also the customary passing of the metaphorical torch to the next Winter Olympics host: France, whose Alps will be the site of the 2030 Games. And there was a shoutout to the Paralympics, which kick off — at the same Verona venue — on March 6.

At times, people in the crowd stood up to clap for medalists — and got quickly shouted down by the journalists wielding telephoto lenses behind them.

Gloria Campaner plays the piano, surrounded by candelabras, at Sunday’s closing ceremony.

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And there were so many candelabras, a recurring motif in this “night at the opera”-themed event. At one point, there were performers dressed as candelabras, moving candelabra floor lamps, while attached to a large dangling candelabra chandelier.

Speaking as spectators in the media nosebleed seats, this ceremony was more fun to watch than the opening, which was still a total blast. But this one came with a tangible sense of relief and a lot more crowd participation: beams of light shone all around us, confetti floated down on top of us and Diplo (the legendary DJ) commanded us all to dance.

You read that right. The sober dousing of the Olympic flame was immediately followed by a seat-shaking DJ set from electronic music supergroup Major Lazer, which got much of the arena on their frozen feet.

Major Lazer got the crowd moving with a medley of their hits, joined by collaborators including Jamaican singer Nyla.

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The rave — and the ceremony — ended a few minutes later. But like all good parties, there was still fun to be had on the way out.

Afterward, as we navigated the crowds and street closures, we stopped to let an international stream of athletes cross the road.

Some of the uniform-clad Olympians hopped on buses that took them back to Milan; others had the same idea as us and ducked into McDonald’s. Inside we spotted Union Jack sweaters, Team Latvia coats and the Winter Olympic GOAT, Johannes Høsflot Klæbo, with his fellow Norwegian cross-country medalists, putting in several orders of chicken wings.

Colorful confetti — seen during Major Lazer’s set — beams of light and glitter cannons illuminated the night sky at various points.

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