Cotter - Tom Cotters Best Barn-Find Collector Car Tales

B arn finding has become a sport over the past couple of decades. Once the exclusive activity of junkyard men, who merely sought to fill their scrap yards with fresh inventory, barn finding has become the hobby, and the occasional career, for adventurous old car enthusiasts. When I open a barn door, I dont know if Ill be treated to a Ferrari, a Falcon, or just a pile of hay. But its always equally exciting and gives adults like me the opportunity to become a kid again.

There are no prerequisites or advanced degrees required to search for old cars, just a flashlight, an old set of clothes, and above-average enthusiasm. Its dirty, but its fun. Or, like when you were a kid, perhaps its fun because its dirty!

Keeping your eyes open while driving through new areas, asking at auto parts stores and repair shops Are there any old car guys around?, and following up on leads makes this more of a treasure hunt and less of a chore. There is simply no way I would rather spend a Saturday.

Im sure I didnt invent barn finding, but Ive sure been at it for a long time. When I wrote The Cobra in the Barn, nearly twenty years ago, there were no TV shows like American Pickers, Chasing Classic Cars, or any of the multitude of variations currently seen on The History Channel, Velocity, and others. But Im sure my book opened the eyes of old car enthusiasts to this previously underground activity. This is now my tenth book on the subject.

When Hagerty Insurance and Shell Oil approached me a few years ago about hosting a YouTube program on the subject, I only asked that it be authentic and that I didnt need to bring urgency, anger, and false drama to the subject. The result is Barn Find Hunter, and its still going strong several years in. And true to their word, when you watch that program, its really me.

This Best of book is a collection of my favorite barn find stories Ive collected, written about, or heard over the past couple of decades. There is a Cobra story here and there but plenty of blue-collar cars as well because Ive found out that the true value of barn finding has nothing to do with the cost of the car, but everything to do with the story.

So roll up your sleeves and dive in. But bring a flashlight and wear old clothes, because its dirty out there. Let me know what you find.

Happy hunting!

Al Kelly is a self-described crapoholic. He likes nothing more than to buy, sell, or barter parts for his vintage motorcycle or car restoration projects. In the 1980s, the tool and die maker spotted some old cars and parts behind the Mount Hope Texaco, which was about a thirty-minute drive from his home in Branchville, New Jersey. When he spotted the parts, he pulled over his freshly restored 1948 GMC pickup and stopped in to check it out.

I asked the owner if anything in the junkyard was for sale, Kelly said. He cursed me out and told me to mind my own business and never come back. He didnt go back for almost twenty years.

One day he was at his job when he received a call in the late afternoon. The caller told Kelly that the eccentric junkyard owner had suffered a stroke, and the town was demanding that the family clean up the property immediately.

Apparently, he had grown up in the same town and was a bit of an oddball, Kelly said. He would save every piece of metal he could findevery scrap, every bottle cap. He believed that if there were another world war, he would become rich from recycling all his metal. All this metal was mounded up in sloppy piles, and you had to make your way through on these small paths between the garbage.

The town actually jailed him once because he refused to clean up his property.

Kelly knew the old man had also been a motorcycle enthusiast in his younger days. When the call came in at 11:30 a.m., he got up from his desk and simply walked out of the factory without saying anything to anyone.

Al Kelly and his brother Ken are lifelong crapoholics. Ken stands in front of the hole they smashed in the side of a storage building in Mount Hope, New Jersey. It was the only way they could drag out the motorcycle treasure hidden inside. Ken Kelly

I was so excited, he said.

When Kelly arrived at Mount Hope Texaco, he was greeted by the old mans twenty-something nephew, Dave.

I asked if I could look at some of the motorcycles and parts and he said, Yeah, sure, go ahead, Kelly said.

Kelly came across piles of junk, which reminded him of a scene from the movie Jurassic Park. At least fifty old cars were scattered about. The cars were models from between the 1920s and the 1950s. He also found piles of motorcycle parts mixed in with the automotive hulks and scraps.

Apparently, he had some trouble with guys sneaking in and stealing motorcycles and parts, he said, so he took the bikes partially apart and hid them around the junkyard.

Then Kelly saw something that shocked him and made him realize that time was of the essence.

There was a crusher in the middle of the yard, and it was about to come down on a 1920s Indian, he said. I was yelling at the crusher operator to stop, and he was yelling at me to get back.

Inside the shed that had no doors were a number of bikes, including a 1957 Harley, a 1944 military Indian, and this 1930 Indian Scout. The Kelly brothers bought all three bikes for $450 each. Ken Kelly

The Indian was lost, but Kelly realized that if they were crushing Indian motorcycles for the value of scrap, he should be able to buy things real cheap.

There were other scavengers in the yard looking for gold, so I knew I had to work quickly, Kelly said. I saw an old bike leaning against a shed, and it was surrounded by a bunch of old parts. It was about [a] twenty-four-by-thirty-foot building, but there was so much crap piled against it that I couldnt find the way in.

I just crawled through some old auto parts until I found a hole in the wall and I crawled in. The place was ready to fall down. It was so dark in there that I really couldnt see, but I put out my hands and felt motorcycles in that building.

So I covered my tracks, sealed up the hole in the wall, and left to get my brother Ken, who was also into old bikes.