I FEEL LIKE A SECRET AGENT.
After weeks of chasing and being passed from one contact to another, we’ve been given the all clear to visit the biggest private supercar collection in Bahrain. First, we’re given a general area to head to, a short drive from the capital, Manama, then told to wait for a dropped pin detailing the exact location. We’re eating a burger when the message comes through… I half expect it to self-destruct after reading.
I can understand the owner’s caution. If you had £100 million worth of unicorns stashed in your garage you would be, too. We’re not even allowed to mention his name, which is curious given you can follow him on Instagram @the_collection1. Still, his cars, his rules. I’m just happy to be here, and can’t stop grinning like a kid with the keys to Cadbury’s World.
There’s construction work going on (a garage extension, naturally, to house the ever-swelling ranks) hence dustsheets on half the cars, but to be honest, it only heightens the anticipation: a silhouetted wing here, a flash of rim there, I find myself pointing and guessing, breathlessly. Then I turn right into the main atrium, the prize paddock with double-height ceilings and his 14 favourites parked cheek by jowl, and my stomach does a back flip.
I walk the line, emotions a mess – something between extreme jealousy and pure joy. At the end
perched on a turntable, his baby, a McLaren F1, chassis number six, bought from a Japanese collector who had three. Next to it a P1, also number six, then a chronological history of Ferrari hypercars: LaFerrari, Enzo, F50, F40, 288 GTO and a 599 GTO for good measure.
Opposite is the really special stuff. A Porsche 918 Spyder then a 911 GT1 Strassenversion (one of only two in existence, he was recently offered $21m) and next to that, another homologation special from the same FIA GT Championship – the Mercedes-AMG CLK GTR. The Maserati MC12 is definitely better than the Enzo on which it’s based, I decide, before drinking in his brand-new Chiron and the Hermès edition Veyron next to that. Not bad, and that’s barely half of it.
Wondering how or when Mr X gets to drive this obscene group of cars? Let’s just say having an F1 track ten minutes down the road and enough cash to use it as your own private playground when the feeling takes you, helps.
So, hats off to you, exceedingly rich Bahraini man whose name I cannot mention – it’s quite the armada you’ve assembled here. Toss the Mansory, and there’s not a turkey among them.