Jay Leno’s garage holds countless supercars and classics, but some of its most fascinating vehicles tell a different story—one of bold experiments, forgotten brands, and engineering risks that didn’t always pay off. Among them sits the Chrysler Turbine Car, one ofonly 55 prototypes ever built. Most were deliberately destroyed, and only nine are believed to survive today, making Leno’s running example one of the rarest operational cars in the world. Its sharp, jet-like whine is unlike anything else on the road.
Leno first saw the Turbine Car as a teenager atthe 1964 World’s Fair, where it circled a demonstration loop and left a lasting impression. The car’s body was designed under Elwood Engel and built in Turin, Italy, by coachbuilder Ghia, blending American experimentation with Italian craftsmanship. Beneath that sleek shell sat a gas turbine engine capable of burning diesel, kerosene, and other combustible fuels—a futuristic flexibility that stood out in an era dominated by single-fuel piston engines. Between 1963 and 1966, Chrysler loanedabout 200 Turbine Cars to American families for real-world testing.
Drivers reported impressively smooth acceleration and an unmistakable exhaust note, but the project never reached production. Cost, efficiency, emissions, manufacturing complexity, and throttle lag all worked against it. Chrysler eventually crushed most of the test fleet, turning the survivors into automotive legends. Leno’s own Turbine Car eventually suffered serious engine damage, and restoration was anything but routine.
Parts were nearly impossible to find, and few people fully understood the technology. The rebuild eventually involved Williams International and veterans who had worked on turbine development decades earlier. Once rebuilt, the turbine idled at around 22,000 RPM and could exceed 44,000 RPM, operating attemperatures that would destroy many conventional engines. Yet from behind the wheel, the Chrysler feels surprisingly familiar—standard pedals, steering wheel, and controls, even if what happens under the hood is anything but ordinary.
Another hidden gem in Leno’s collection is the Ford SHOgun, a car that looks likea late-1980s Ford Festiva—one of the most unremarkable econoboxes ever made—but concealsasupercar heart. The project came from Chuck Beck and Rick Titus, both deeply rooted in motorsports. Beck had worked on Ford’s legendary GT40 Le Mans program and once fitted a Lamborghini V12 into a motorcycle; Titus raced the brutal Ford RS200 rally car. Their idea was simple: rip out the Festiva’s tiny engine and drop ina 220-horsepower Yamaha V6 from a Ford Taurus SHO, mounted behind the front seats and driving the rear wheels.
The car weighed barelya ton, launching too 60 mph in about4. 6 seconds and covering the quarter-mile in under13 seconds—performance that could challenge, and sometimes beat, a standard Porsche 911, at a fraction of the visual drama. Titus and Beck hoped to build up too250 cars through their company Special Editions, but ata price of roughly $42,000 in1990—about$80,000 today—buyers balked. The plain wrapper made it hard too sell.
In the end, onlyeight SHOgunswere built, including one prototype and seven customer cars. Leno acquired chassis number three when it was new, and later added his own nitrous oxide system, pushing the already startling performance even further. It remains one of the purest sleeper cars in his garage: no noise, just results. Leno’s collection also includes machines that do not resemble vehicles at all.
Randy Grubb, an artist who rejects the idea that transport must be purely functional, builds the Deco Pods—streamlined, aluminum-bodied scooters inspired by1930s art deco and Flash Gordon adventures. Grubb starts with factory-built Piaggio scooters, strips away about25 pounds of plastic bodywork, and hand-forms aluminum panels that are riveted together using techniques closer to vintage aircraft construction than scooter manufacturing. Leno owns two early examples. One keeps a two-wheel setup; the other usesPiaggio’s MP3 three-wheel platform.
Depending on configuration, they can reach about70 mph, and the sleek shells also help manage airflow around the rider, reducing crosswind buffeting. Grubb builds them by hand in Grants Pass, Oregon, in extremely limited numbers, making them more mobile sculpture than conventional transport. Leno’s relationship with Grubb stretches back years, including the infamous Blastolene Special—better known as Jay’s tank car—powered bya massive military engine. Compared with that imposing machine, the Deco Pods reveal a more playful side of Grubb’s creativity, though the craftsmanship is equally serious.
They are not quite motorcycles, not cars, and certainly not ordinary scooters—they are experiments in motion, and that is exactly why they sit in Leno’s garage
Hidden deeper in the collection isa piece of forgotten American racing history: the Cunningham C-3. Briggs Cunningham, heir toa meatpacking fortune, dreamed of winning the24 Hours of Le Mans with an American car and American driver—something no one had ever done. When race officials changed the rules in1952, requiring manufacturers to buildat least25 street-legal cars to qualify, Cunningham refused too back down. He set upa factory in West Palm Beach, Florida, hand-building each car with modified racing chassis anda powerful Chrysler Hemi V8, capable of hitting60 mph inabout7 seconds anda top speed near150 mph—one of the strongest, most reliable American engines of its era.
Finished rolling chassis were shipped across the Atlantic to Italy’s renowned Vignale coachbuilder, where Giovanni Michelotti’s designs gave them elegant bodies. Each car took roughlytwo months of meticulous handwork, fusing American power with Italian grace. At prices between$9,000 and$11,000—well above a comparably equipped Cadillac—the C-3 was rare and exclusive. Only25 were completed: five convertibles and20 coupes.
Its striking design earned ita place on the Museum of Modern Art’s list ofthe ten best contemporary cars of1953. On the track, Cunningham’s team never claimed first place, butthird-place finishes at Le Mans in1953 and1954 were remarkable achievements foroa small American operation competing against factory-backed giants like Ferrari and Jaguar. Despite that success, the C-3 never secured lasting recognition. Production ended quickly, marketing was modest, and European rivals dominated the spotlight for decades.
Many enthusiasts today would walk past one without realizing what it was. Leno values his C-3 not because it is famous, but because it representsan era of stubborn American ambition in automotive engineering—a chapter worth keeping alive
The same turbine spirit that powered the Chrysler lives on in Leno’s garage in far more modern form: the EcoJet, born froma conversation between Leno and longtime head mechanic Bernard Juchli. They sketched early ideas on a napkin, then Ed Welburn, then-vice president of global design at General Motors, helped turn them into reality within two weeks at GM’s advanced design studio in North Hollywood. The EcoJet borrows design cues from fighter jets and Formula One cars, bridging aviation and automotive worlds.
Its body, mounted ona modified Corvette Z06 aluminum frame, is carbon fiber over Kevlar, emphasizing light weight and strength. Power comes froma Honeywell LT-101 gas turbine—the same engine found in Bell 222 helicopters and U. S. Coast Guard rescue helicopters—producing about650 horsepower and running primarily on biodiesel.
Starting requiresa small tank of jet fuel, after which the system switches over. Fuel economy is laughable—barely6 miles per gallon,—but that was never the point. The EcoJet can theoretically approach245 mph, though it exists chiefly asa display piece and test bed, nota daily driver. It representsusia40-year dialogue between two engineering eras: one that chased turbine power inthe1960s, another that pushed it towardthe2000s.
Both were ultimately sidelined by industries that chose more conventional technology. Few viewers of Leno’s show realize that his garage quietly houses both turbine cars, born four decades apart, united by shared ambition
Beyond experimental machines, Leno preserves brands that have vanished entirely. The Wells-St. Clair was built by C.
Harold Wills, one of Henry Ford’s earliest collaborators, credited with helping develop the steel used in the Model T. After leaving Ford in1919, Wills invested his fortune in building cars under his own name in Marysville, Michigan. They featuredan innovative overhead-cam V8 engine that cooled itself withouta water pump. The company produced between12,000 and14,000 cars before closing, and today onlyabout80 examples survive.
Leno’s sat for decades hidden ina shipping container in the desert before being rescued and lovingly restored—preservinga piece of early American industrial heritage that few remember. Nearby sitsa German rarity: the NSU Spider, recognized as the first production car sold witha rotary engine, beating Mazda’s famed Wankel-powered cars by years. Built between1964 and1967, only2,375 were made, each featuringa rear-mounted, 54-horsepower engine. NSU bet its future ona larger rotary sedan, but rotor seal reliability problems sank the venture, eventually driving the brand into what becameAudi.
Leno also ownsa Jensen CV-8, a British luxury car combininga powerful5. 8-liter Chrysler engine witha fiberglass body, steel doors, and advanced adjustable shock absorbers, built between1962 and1966 in runs of onlyabout500 units. For decades it lived inthe shadow of its more famous sibling, the Jensen Interceptor. None of these brands survives today in any meaningful form, their stories largely lost outside enthusiast circles, yet their cars endureas monuments to innovation that dared too challenge convention.
Leno’s patronage helps shine light on often-ignored chapters of automotive history
Perhaps nobody would expecta Mercedes-Benz 600—the ultimate symbol of1960s and1970s luxury, favored by presidents, monarchs, celebrities, and some ofthe world’s most controversial leaders—to hidea serious performance secret. But Leno’s 1972 example does. Mercedes never officially solda supercharged 600, yet specialist Karl Middelhauve, one of those old-school German master technicians, modified Leno’s car. He fitted the original6.
3-liter V8 with fuel injection anda supercharger, reportedly lifting output from about300 horsepower to roughly525. The result is believed to bethe only supercharged Mercedes 600 in existence—an imposing, stately machine that now accelerates with power its designers never intended. To an uninformed observer, it still looks likethe dignified limousine associated with diplomats, though that reputation once caused tension whenan Iranian man grew anxious after noticing the 600 behind him, suspecting secret police. But owning such complex machinery is demanding.
The car’s intricate hydraulic system—which operates windows, seats, sunroof, and even trunk lid—can be extraordinarily expensive to repair. Evena simple window switch can cost thousands of dollars, and restoring the hydraulic system requires specialist knowledge held by very few mechanics today. Many collectors therefore hesitate to drivetheir 600s often. Leno takes the opposite approach: he believe sthese machines were built to be driven, not displayed.
His 600 is regularly started, driven, maintained, and enjoyedasa working car, nota museum piece—a philosophy that explains why his collection stands apart
What truly distinguishes Jay Leno’s garage is not the numberof cars in it, northeir staggering value. It is his insistence on keeping these machines alive, running, and on the road. While many rare cars spend decades behind ropes or glass, Leno starts, maintains, and drives his as their original engineers intended. That philosophy turns his private collection intoa living museum.
Every engine start becomesa reminder that automotive history was never meant to remain silent. The smell of fuel and hot metal, the feel of mechanical parts working together, bring the past back to life in ways static displays cannot. Leno understands thata car’s story extends far beyond its exterior; to appreciate a vehicle, you must experience how it behaves on the road. Some machines are smooth and refined; others require patience, strength, and constant attention.
Even flaws become part of their character. This approach proves especially rewarding within unfamiliar machines like the Chrysler Turbine Car, which he starts and drives rather than merely admiring. The same applies to complex luxury cars like the Mercedes 600, whose advanced engineering intimidates even experienced collectors. Leno refuses to let such complexity turn these vehicles into inert decorations.
Keeping them operational does more than preserve their appearance—it helps preserve the engineering knowledge behind them. Maintaining such a diverse collection requires enormous effort; many parts have not been manufactured in decades, forcing mechanics to repair original components or fabricate replacements from scratch. Leno works with skilled technicians, fabricators, and experts who understand that preserving something sometimes means rebuilding what can no longer be bought. That labor reveals something essential about automotive history: cars represent far more than transportation.
They show changing technology, manufacturing methods, cultural currents, and the ambitions of the people who designed them. Through videos and public appearances, Leno also allows millions of enthusiasts to experience cars they might never see in person—hearing engines, watching controls work, and understanding why certain designs mattered. In the end, his garage proves that preserving history does not necessarily mean locking it behind glass. Sometimes the best way too honor a car isto restore it, start it, and drive it on the road, letting it do exactly what it was created to do.
In Leno’s world, automotive history is not merely stored—it is driven, experienced, understood, and kept alive.
