[*]
[*]
I manage to tear myself away from the 356, away from the golden glow of the setting sun in the beautiful landscape and I head inside into the dimly lit gloom of the barn, the workshop.
There's not a lot of space inside, enough room for one car with a few feet around it. So what's taking up all the space?
This is:
And shelves, lots of shelves. And stuff. LOTS of stuff!
This, genuinely, is the kind of place that makes me all giddy. This is my 'kid in a candy store' kind of place.
Boxes of engine parts, all labeled.
Rows of heads, blocks, gearboxes....
Peeking through the darker corners, amid the chaos, you spot little alcoves here and there with some extra light coming, from somewhere.
It's like a car fanatics wonderland, a maze of awe. The gloominess just adding to the feeling of suspense.
Shelf after shelf of part
I eventually make my way back around to the area where the 356 was parked.
Here I spot the ladder, an invite in tubular metal taunting me to climb it, to take a peek into the void above the chaotic maze of Porsche parts.
I simply cannot resist.
I just have to climb into the upper level and explore some more. Years and years of breaking rotten, damaged or broken Porsches have allowed Randy to amass an incredible collection of parts.
The few skylights offer slightly more light in focused areas, but this only exaggerates the darker parts. The contrast is even greater, the atmosphere even more enhanced.
There's a logic to the way everything is arranged. Like a teenagers bedroom floor, it seems a complete jumble but they can immediately locate anything they want or need. Tidying does not make things any better.
Row after row of parts, all assembled according to how Randy's collection has grown. If space runs out, it spills out onto the floor, or into the shelf next bay along. The floor, more often than not becoming the chosen location.
In any other world, this would be a health and safety disaster - the loft ladder wasn't attached, the trip hazards too numerous to begin to count, the open door with no barrier where I could just drop from this upper floor onto the tarmac below.
Instead, while at this end of the workshop, I decided to take a look out of the door and enjoy some more of that fantastic light.
I turn around, once more into the shadows and realise that this place is like something from the film 'Saw'. I'm expecting the masked clown bloke to come riding around the corner on his tricycle any second (he'd have a job!) - you cannot just create a space like this, it evolves and grows to become this awesome spectacle and, boy, did I love every bit of it!
The light is starting to fade rapidly so I carefully make my way back down the ladder. I feel like I'm Indiana Jones, I've just discovered the lost treasure of the Porsche world, seen volumes of usable and desirable parts that Porsche owners can only dream of, then battled my way through obstacles and hazards galore and still managed to navigate my way back to safety.
That. Was. AWESOME!
"Oh, there's more" says Randy, "Come with me...."
There's not a lot of space inside, enough room for one car with a few feet around it. So what's taking up all the space?
This is:
And shelves, lots of shelves. And stuff. LOTS of stuff!
This, genuinely, is the kind of place that makes me all giddy. This is my 'kid in a candy store' kind of place.
Boxes of engine parts, all labeled.
Rows of heads, blocks, gearboxes....
Peeking through the darker corners, amid the chaos, you spot little alcoves here and there with some extra light coming, from somewhere.
It's like a car fanatics wonderland, a maze of awe. The gloominess just adding to the feeling of suspense.
Shelf after shelf of part
I eventually make my way back around to the area where the 356 was parked.
Here I spot the ladder, an invite in tubular metal taunting me to climb it, to take a peek into the void above the chaotic maze of Porsche parts.
I simply cannot resist.
I just have to climb into the upper level and explore some more. Years and years of breaking rotten, damaged or broken Porsches have allowed Randy to amass an incredible collection of parts.
The few skylights offer slightly more light in focused areas, but this only exaggerates the darker parts. The contrast is even greater, the atmosphere even more enhanced.
There's a logic to the way everything is arranged. Like a teenagers bedroom floor, it seems a complete jumble but they can immediately locate anything they want or need. Tidying does not make things any better.
Row after row of parts, all assembled according to how Randy's collection has grown. If space runs out, it spills out onto the floor, or into the shelf next bay along. The floor, more often than not becoming the chosen location.
In any other world, this would be a health and safety disaster - the loft ladder wasn't attached, the trip hazards too numerous to begin to count, the open door with no barrier where I could just drop from this upper floor onto the tarmac below.
Instead, while at this end of the workshop, I decided to take a look out of the door and enjoy some more of that fantastic light.
I turn around, once more into the shadows and realise that this place is like something from the film 'Saw'. I'm expecting the masked clown bloke to come riding around the corner on his tricycle any second (he'd have a job!) - you cannot just create a space like this, it evolves and grows to become this awesome spectacle and, boy, did I love every bit of it!
The light is starting to fade rapidly so I carefully make my way back down the ladder. I feel like I'm Indiana Jones, I've just discovered the lost treasure of the Porsche world, seen volumes of usable and desirable parts that Porsche owners can only dream of, then battled my way through obstacles and hazards galore and still managed to navigate my way back to safety.
That. Was. AWESOME!
"Oh, there's more" says Randy, "Come with me...."
Ax GTi Turbo
