Jay Leno’s garage is a duo of purposefully nondescript warehouse buildings alongside Burbank Airport. The drab buildings, devoid of signs or markings, belie the colorful and magnificent automotive treasures within, and the only hint you’re in the right spot is a vintage traffic light hung outside the building on the left. Call the garage to have the gate opened and Leno himself answers the phone, buzzes you in and even ambles out to show you where to park. How’s that for a greeting?

“C’mon in,” he beckons, holding the door to his workshop open. Inside the familiar and welcoming garage smells envelop you. Every tool and piece of machinery is in here, from CNC mills to laser cutters to two paint booths and everything in between. A dozen project cars are in various corners of the expansive space, all in various forms of completion, though an early Brough Superior, disassembled in the middle, is getting the most attention from a quartet of mechanics.

Incredulity at the sheer magnitude of Leno’s operation isn’t easy to hide, though Leno’s likely used to see many a gob-smacked face pass through his doors. He takes note, chuckles, and steers you to the adjacent building and opening the garage door. This is where his collection is housed and entering is like walking into the Promised Land.

All his greatest hits are here. Immediately visible are his McLaren F1 and his two Lamborghini Miuras. “This just came in,” he says, dragging a finger down the side of a 2016 Acura NSX. Around the corner, his M47 Patton tank-engine car, across from his American LaFrance fire truck. Down the hall, half a dozen Duesenbergs. The Ford Festiva Shogun sits in another corner, near a room reserved exclusively for his Bugattis. His GT350R glimmers between a GT500 and an ’05 GT. Will he get the new Ford GT? “I think so. I didn’t get a rejection letter yet,” he quips.