Fuel Injected Santa: A Clause I Didn’t Plan For

Recently, I was at The Frick Pittsburgh to photograph families on the porch of Clayton, the historic Frick family mansion on Penn Ave. Straightforward holiday portraits. Keep the line moving. Make sure nobody blinks. Nothing unusual.

And then Santa showed up.

Usually known for being meticulous (he does check lists twice, after all), he went completely off-script and slid into a Ford Model A inside the Car and Carriage Museum. Instantly, he transformed into a speed-hungry elf with something to prove. Full commitment. Hands on the wheel. Leaned in. A look like he had exactly three seconds to outrun a reindeer mutiny.

I just stopped and stared. I mean…what?!?

There’s something endlessly funny about watching the guy known for rooftop landings and cookie breaks suddenly acting like he’s auditioning for the vintage Fast & Furious prequel nobody asked for. In a museum. In a car that predates some of our grandparents.

But honestly, that’s the holiday season in one scene. You walk in expecting the usual routine—the checklists, the familiar chaos, all the little traditions—and then it throws something completely unexpected at you. And you laugh, because what else are you supposed to do?

Maybe that’s the quiet lesson tucked inside moments like this.

The best parts of the season rarely come from the plan. They show up in the margins, in flashes you didn’t schedule. Little breaks in the pattern—like Santa aggressively pretending to peel out in a Model A while you’re trying to reset your camera between families.

I arrived to shoot porch portraits. The holidays handed me a pit-stop cameo with the Big Man instead.

Rudolph, fair warning: if Santa gets too comfortable in that Model A, your job might be on the line.