In telling the story of how this shot came about, I should really limit myself to just half the story, as it was such a long and protracted process.

Very early on, the conceptualization of the image I had in mind was the idea of shooting a “low rider” car, with the idea of placing the car exactly halfway up on the hydraulic lift, and viewing it from absolutely flat-side on. Using a very wide-angle lens to include the rest of what I imagined would be an old garage would make for an interesting finished shot. I wanted to find as tricked-out of a car as possible. The kind of car with painted reproductions of Jesus and crosses all over, maybe some swirling multicolored metal flak striping for good measure. The idea of the car looking like a sort of jewel sitting in the middle of an old garage would be so funny and beautiful at the same time.

The protracted process of searching out the perfect garage anywhere in Los Angeles proved to be daunting, to say the least. Over the course of ten weeks, stealing a day here and there, I visited over a hundred garages and spoke with twice as many people all over the city. Often, I would get insight from a mechanic who knew of an old garage that still had the old-fashioned single lifts built into the ground. Usually this turned out not to be the case, as almost all the garages I came upon had their old hydraulic lifts removed by order of the city (too much pollution caused by the hydraulic fluid seeping into the earth). The old lifts had been replaced by those ugly and more efficient electric lifts that sit above ground and straddle the car from both sides.

Here and there I did find a garage with the appropriate hardware, but inevitably the actual interior was too new, cramped, sterile or just plain no good. There were more than a few times when I was not allowed to come into the shop and look around. Los Angeles being such a vast melting pot, with so many different and diverse nationalities, I think that, because of the inherent miscommunication between me and some of the shop owners I visited, they were very reluctant to even allow me the option of taking a look around. Even when I explained what it was all about (the idea of making art), I could definitely still feel a cynicism, almost fear in their tone. I can only guess that, as is the case with so many other cultures around the world where people work so hard just to scratch out a living, the idea of some guy coming in off the street who wants to make pretty pictures sounds ridiculous. To them, it more than likely looked like a scam or some sort of government agency poking around. Best to say no.

Finally, after talking to a guy who knew of an older garage at the outskirts of Los Angeles, I did manage to find the place and arrange to visit and talk with the owner. His garage was perfect except that it was very small. Too tight for a full-sized low-rider car to fit inside. I needed to rethink the concept in order to accommodate the new environment. Muscle cars sound good, maybe a classic Corvette, nice and small. Yeah, that would still work.

Unfortunately, my enthusiasm spooked the owner of the garage, as I was talking a little too freely about moving some or all of his equipment around in order for the shot to work. The idea of tearing up a guy’s work space, even for one night, is not everybody’s idea of fun. Less than a week later, he called me back to say the shot was off, he’d changed his mind. Back to the drawing board.

At least now I had a clearer idea of the image in my mind’s eye. I was sure this shot would be a real killer if I could just pull it off. I refused to give up on a good idea. What was needed now was a renewed sense of determination, and legwork.

After visiting several local car shows in the area, to no avail, I was still stumped, so I went to Plan B: vintage-car dealerships. They weren’t interested either. Plan C, I decided to call guys who are selling their own vintage Vettes. Well, lo and behold, when I called and talked to a gentleman who lives over 300 miles from me, he informed me that he just sold the car in question (by this time I’m really bummed out). Bob does, however, think there is a small car-towing service up in Central California that used to be an auto garage in the old days. “It might just be the kind of thing you’re looking for. I think the man who runs it also collects and restores old vintage Corvettes. I’m not sure it still exists, though.”

Feeling my heart skip a beet, I pulled as much info as I could glean from Bob. After tracking down the business in question, I did make a call, and for three days running was not able to speak with the owner, as he was constantly out on a tow. The employee did inform me that, “Yes, they do have an old-fashioned hydraulic lift still in place, and, yes, the place is really old. I don’t think you’d want to photograph here, though, It’s pretty worn out.”

Finally, on day four, I did connect with Albert Aquino of Aquino’s Towing. Having had several days to think about how I would present the idea of shooting his garage and some of his cars, I was floored when in the middle of my first sentence of what was to be an extensive dissertation about how wonderful and special this image could be, Albert casually says, “Yeah, sure, come on up, no problem shooting the garage and cars.” Not really ready for such a courteous and prompt invitation, I’m sure I sounded like the guy who refuses to take yes for an answer. I kept describing the idea and how it might work, technique, etc., etc., all to no avail ─ Albert had already said yes. I felt cheated. I was expecting a hard sell. Regaining my composure after that mental stumble, I finally got around to asking about any Corvettes he might have access to. “Oh yeah, I got six of them,” he said, and then proceeded to list each model and its condition, oldest to newest. “You would be welcome to use any and all of them in the shot, if you like. I’ll have my family members drive them over so you can take a look when you set up for the photo.” By this point I was feeling like Homer Simpson contemplating the prospect of a jelly donut - Aghhhhhhhhhhhh… I too was almost salivating. Can this really be true? Wonderful! We agreed to get together in a couple weekends.

Driving the 250 miles up to his business and arriving at the shop, I was struck immediately by the nostalgic quality of the interior. At one point it had really been a gas station and repair shop. Now it was the base of operations for Albert’s towing service. Luckily, the interior had been kept intact, exactly as it looked 40 years ago. It seems that Albert uses the equipment to work on his own and some friends’ vintage Vettes. Formal introductions and sincere thanks for the access and usage of his shop and cars. Mr. Aquino was the epitome of grace and generosity.

For the next hour, as we drove to the house to have a look-see at all the cars to determine which of them would work best in the photograph, we talked. He explained that he is the son of poor immigrant parents from Mexico. As a young man he was taught many lessons from his father, some of which he shared with me now: the importance of hard work, determination, focus and, most important, the value of family and personal integrity. Clearly he took those lessons to heart early on, as I did notice on the wall of the garage an old, faded local newspaper clipping from his high-school days. The photo was of him years ago, after having earned first place, all state in wrestling. Trying to hone my listening skills, reading between the lines (as Alberto did not package our conversation as such), I realize this could be more accurately described as a recipe on how to lead an honorable and successful life. It seemed that I had met a man with as much enthusiasm and appreciation as myself for all the things that make life great. I didn’t think that possible. At one point in the conversation he asked about my plans for these shots I’m creating. I explained that, “I don’t know yet. Each one is such a huge labor of love, I really can’t see that far down the road. All that matters to me now is that they are made.” His advice: “Keep your eye on the ball. Keep doing what you’re doing, and the rest will take care of itself.” Advice which I still value to this day.

When I inquired about a couple of guys to be in the photo, Albert thought of his son-in-law, Mike, and his young nephew, Peter, both of whom would be perfect, as they would look the part, and they were available. As an extra bonus, both men had and do actually work in the garage on the cars ─ authenticity. A brief call to the two guys asking about their availability and interest in being in and working on a photo, and we were set as far as the models and additional labor was concerned.

By the time we all descended on the garage to start manipulating the interior and start prepping for this evening’s shoot, it was 110 degrees inside. As this was the very height of summer in the middle of California’s Central Valley, with sunshine pouring into the open bay doors facing west, it was like an oven inside. (No one will remember, but that was the middle of an unprecedented heat wave that California was experiencing in the summer of ’06.) Myself, Mike and Pete all worked very hard to prepare the garage interior for the shot. Borrowing a forklift from up the block, Mike pulled out several loads of heavy equipment from the shop floor. We collectively had to push out an old dead car from the center lift area, in addition to manually pushing several dead cars from the front of the garage to make room for all the removed items. I wanted the exterior clear also. The big, blue truck visible through the bay doors was too big to push, so it sat where it was.

All in all, we worked very hard in intense heat for six solid hours. Not until about 9:30 P.M were we ready to start exposing the photograph. Later than I like to start shooting, as I had already lost the twilight blues that make the sky so pretty. We were exhausted at this point, and the shooting/fun part was just beginning. Over the following four hours we exposed over 350 individual frames. The photograph includes over $120,000 worth of vintage Corvettes.

After wrapping up the shooting, we still had to return the borrowed cars to Albert’s house five miles away, and return all the old junk back into the garage. It was a very big job. Ultimately, all that counts is the finished image.

The final photograph is very close to what I had in my mind’s eye over two months ago when I started working on this original concept. Starting out with a low-rider car sitting on the partially raised lift at first. Once the idea changed and morphed into a classic sports car, muscle car, the Vet was a perfect alternative. As is often the case with these images, the solution comes from flexibility, determination and, ultimately, a guy who knows a guy who has a friend, etc., etc., all leading me to Aquino’sTowing and Albert.

As I sit here, belatedly writing this little story in my feeble attempt to document the process of creating another image, and look anew upon the photograph that we all worked so hard to create, what is now apparent to me in the photo is not a really cool picture of a Corvette in an old garage. No, instead, I can now see, wearing a slightly different pair of colored glasses, the real story built into the photo. It is, in reality, an extended family portrait. Not just the inclusion of Mike and Pete, who are physically in the shot, but it is, I believe, a truer likeness of Albert Aquino, his whole philosophy of life, extended family, and the spirit of what success in America is all about.

It's difficult to see in the small print, but Pete, sitting on the left, is reading a girlie magazine, with a Coke bottle next to him resting on a battery. Note the very neat peeling paint on the ceiling. That is the result of fifty years of intense sunshine and cold rains beating down on the tin roof. I'm so lucky that at no time during the previous fifty years had anybody taken a broom handle and knocked off the paint. It would have taken only five minutes to clear all of it off the ceiling.

Eric Curry