Flynn's Wrecking Yard's small reception office near Cooma contains old photographs, motor-show trophies and ribbons, magazine clippings, registration plates and a little reflection about passion being the secret of life.
Subscribe now for unlimited access.
or signup to continue reading
Among thousands of rusting wrecks outside, a 1927 truck with wooden spokes has a solid gum tree growing though its carry tray.
Founder Jim Flynn filled 20lt oil drums with concrete for the foundations of the yard's open workshop which adjoins the office, although his son Wayne tinkers with cars in the sunshine outside for 90per cent of the year.
He said Cooma's bonus was cold, clear weather which aged cars more slowly than warmer climates closer to the coast, where the salt air would have eaten through the old Dodges, Plymouths, DeSotos, Vanguards and Buicks. Two-thirds of the cars are 40- to 70-years-old.
Models from various eras age gracefully together in rows. About 3.30pm each day, Mr Flynn's wife Vicki arrives to handle customer inquiries, freeing him to delve into rusty car skeletons for rare parts.
Often when people contact Flynn's they've been turned away elsewhere and are surprised to discover out-of-date models from many generations past.
''People nearly fall over backwards. When they hear we have more than one of what they're after - it gives them hope.''
Pre-1960s cars have Jim Flynn's identification marks on them and elicit calls from all over Australia and overseas.
More recent Valiants, and early model Holdens, Fords and Datsuns, are the most sought after. Toranas fully restored bring big money, according to Flynn. Split-screen Kombi vans restored can fetch between $4000 and $50,000.
Many of the callers are tourists who simply want to take photographs, as people these days are less likely to repair or replace damaged cars. It's more economical to buy a car than pay high labour costs for repairs.
These days people rate a car made before 1990 as old. Dealers won't touch them. Flynn will trade them for more recent second-hand cars.
Surrounded by bushland, the cars shelter wombats, echidnas and the occasional snake, the best security against anyone who thinks Flynn's is a soft touch.
A forked tongue flicking from under a vehicle could also belong to a cranky big goanna.
Birds pick at old fabric lining cars interiors for nesting material. A man opened a boot one day and stepped back suddenly as a wallaby bounded out and headed for the hills.
