Life's too short not to push it further
Some machines outlast the ambitions that first shaped them, becoming vessels for a longer conversation about craft, obsession, and the cost of an unfinished dream. A bright yellow LC Torana — frozen on the cover of Street Machine in 1995 — has passed through the hands of builders and dreamers for three decades, each owner pushing it closer to a vision that keeps expanding. Now mid-rebuild, with a twin-turbo Maserati V6 at its heart and only body and paint standing between it and completion, the car seeks one final custodian willing to write the last chapter. It is, in the end, less a vehicle for sale than an inheritance of intent.
- A car that once stopped people cold on a 1995 magazine cover has been so radically reimagined that only its roof and A-pillars survive from the original body.
- Two successive owners — each entering with conviction — have been worn down by the financial and emotional weight of a build that keeps demanding more.
- The heavy fabrication is finished, engineering is signed off in New South Wales, and the mechanical systems are complete, leaving only body and paint between this machine and the road.
- Master craftsman Paul Bennett, who has shaped this car across multiple eras, remains available to guide the final push — or to step back and let a new owner claim the vision entirely.
- The asking price carries not just steel and engineering but thirty years of accumulated obsession, making this as much a philosophical proposition as a transaction.
That bright yellow LC Torana on the cover of Street Machine's July-August 1995 issue was the kind of image that stayed with you. Three decades later, the same car still exists — though barely recognisable, gutted and rebuilt so thoroughly that only the roof and A-pillars remain untouched. And it's for sale again.
Chris Boundy commissioned the original build in the early 1990s alongside craftsman Paul Bennett, whose four-year effort produced a rollcage, custom graphics, and a street machine worthy of a magazine cover. For fifteen years it cruised and showed. Then, around 2010, Boundy wanted more — a car that could win a concours tent and still drive home. He rang Bennett. "What the hell? Life's too short," he said. What followed was a rebuild documented in Street Machine's August 2011 issue: a twin-turbo Maserati V6, matching transmission, custom quick-change differential on full air suspension, and every panel reworked while the car's proportions held firm.
The financial weight eventually broke Boundy's resolve. Trent Barrett, who had grown up around Bennett's work, moved quickly when he heard the car was available. He understood what it represented. "Financially it's a massive, massive task, as we all know with these cars," Barrett said — and then found himself caught by the same pressures. The car is now on the market a second time.
What remains is body and paint. The heavy fabrication is done. Engineering is signed off in New South Wales. Paul Bennett is willing to share his vision for the finish, though he's holding back progress photographs so the final reveal belongs to whoever comes next. The new owner can follow his lead or go their own way. Either path leads to the end of a thirty-year conversation between craftsmen and dreamers about what a car becomes when no one is willing to settle.
That bright yellow LC Torana on the cover of Street Machine's July-August 1995 issue stopped people in their tracks—a car frozen in time, mid-leap, the kind of image that stays with you. Three decades later, that same car still exists, though it looks nothing like it did then. It's mid-transformation, gutted and rebuilt so radically that only the roof and A-pillars remain untouched from the original. And it's for sale.
Chris Boundy commissioned the first build in the early 1990s, working with Paul Bennett, a craftsman known for meticulous work and an eye for detail. The project consumed four years. Bennett contributed the graphics, the rollcage—an 18-point structure that became a signature element—and the overall vision that made the car worthy of a magazine cover. When it was finished, it was exactly what Boundy wanted: a street machine that turned heads and performed.
For fifteen years, the Torana served its purpose. It cruised. It showed. But around 2010, Boundy began thinking differently about the car. He wanted to push it further, to transform it into something that existed at the intersection of show car and street legal—a machine that could sit in a concours tent and still drive home under its own power. He called Paul Bennett again. "It's been a great cruise car, but it's been sitting around for a while," Boundy said at the time. "I was undecided about whether I should revamp it or not. But then I thought: 'What the hell? Life's too short!'"
What followed was a rebuild so comprehensive that Street Machine documented it in their August 2011 issue. The scope became immediately apparent: a twin-turbo Maserati V6 engine paired with a matching transmission, a custom quick-change differential mounted in the boot on full air suspension droop, every panel reworked while the car's essential proportions remained intact. The work was staggering—the kind of project that demands not just skill but obsession, not just money but a willingness to spend it without counting.
Then life intervened. Boundy, facing the financial weight of an unfinished build, made the difficult decision to sell. Trent Barrett, who had grown up around Paul Bennett's work and had collaborated on other projects, learned the car was available and moved quickly. He understood what the Torana represented and where it was headed. "Chris obviously had enough of the project, and financially it's a massive, massive task, as we all know with these cars," Barrett explained. He took ownership intending to push it across the finish line, completing the engine bay and front apron with Bennett's guidance.
But the same pressures that caught Boundy caught Barrett. The car is now being offered for sale again, this time with the heavy fabrication work complete. The engineering is signed off in New South Wales. The mechanical systems are done. What remains is body work and paint—the final push that will reveal what Bennett and his collaborators have been building toward. "All the heavy fab work is done; it just needs body and paint," Barrett says.
Paul Bennett remains willing to share his vision for the car's completion, though he's keeping progress photographs private—he wants the final reveal to belong to whoever takes ownership next. The new owner can follow Bennett's direction or chart their own course. What's certain is that this car, born from a 1995 magazine cover, has become something larger than any single owner's project. It's a three-decade conversation between craftsmen and dreamers about what a car can become when you refuse to settle. The question now is who will write the final chapter.
Citações Notáveis
It's been a great cruise car, but it's been sitting around for a while. I was undecided about whether I should revamp it or not. But then I thought: 'What the hell? Life's too short!'— Chris Boundy, original owner
Chris obviously had enough of the project, and financially it's a massive, massive task, as we all know with these cars.— Trent Barrett, second owner
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why does a car like this keep changing hands? It seems like everyone who owns it eventually lets it go.
Because these builds demand something most people can't sustain—not just money, but a kind of obsession that has to outlast doubt and fatigue. When you're three years into a project and the finish line keeps moving, life has a way of making you reconsider.
But Paul Bennett keeps showing up. He's been involved since the beginning.
He's the constant. He's the one who knows what the car is supposed to become. For the owners, it's a passion project. For Bennett, it's his work—his vision made physical. That's a different relationship to the car entirely.
What does it say that the car is still unfinished after all this time?
It says the ambition was real. This isn't a car that got abandoned because it was boring or the owner lost interest. It's a car that demanded more than anyone anticipated, and people kept trying anyway. That's actually the opposite of failure.
Do you think the next owner will finish it?
That depends on whether they understand what they're buying. If they see it as a project to complete, maybe not. If they see it as a conversation they're joining—with Bennett, with Boundy, with Barrett—then they might have a chance.
What would finishing it actually mean?
It means making real what's been imagined for thirty years. It means the car finally becomes what everyone who touched it believed it could be. That's worth something.