Mr. Ho, the 72-year-old custodian who’d been sweeping the back corner, shuffled over. He wore thick glasses and a stained cardigan. He picked up Marcus’s Deora, turned it over, and pointed to a tiny, hand-engraved symbol on the chassis: a wolf’s head inside a gear.

His masterpiece was a battered ’70s Pontiac Firebird, a flea market rescue with a chipped windshield and faded “Flame Out” decals. The others called it the “Junkyard Jumper.” Leo called it Subject-7 .

Leo didn’t just collect cars. He saw what others missed: the crude rivets, the hollow plastic chassis, the screaming potential for more . While his friends argued over spectraflame paint jobs, Leo dreamed in ball bearings and torque.