
Spring 2019. I spotted a 1969 Ford Capri on eBay and fell for its shape. Beyond that, there wasn’t much of a plan. There rarely is.
For years I’d been glued to YouTube, watching other people’s barn finds: engines that hadn’t turned in decades, rusty, filthy, hopeless-looking things coughing, spluttering and then roaring back into life. Seized wheels creaking round again. Something everyone had written off, driving out under its own steam while the owner looks on in disbelief. Eventually I thought: why am I watching this when I could be covered in oil doing it myself? So I bought the Capri and pointed a camera at it.
The Capri’s engine was seized solid, the kind of solid that makes grown men lean on a breaker bar and question their life choices. The day it finally fired is still stored in my memory as a proper triumph. The car’s gone now. The itch hasn’t. There’s no cream for it.
It started in a garage in West Bromwich. These days it’s our workshop in Brierley Hill, still full of rust, still where the noise happens, and still nowhere near tidy.

– Emmanuel

Each machine’s build photos live on its own page: Kate, Ford Pop, Transit, Frogeye and VW Beetle.












T-shirts, hoodies and caps with the Rusty Love logo, embroidered properly, not printed on. Plus the mug with Mano and Gav on it, for your tea break.