After His Death, They Opened Frank Fritz’s Garage, And FOUND a HIDDEN Car That Shouldn’t Exist… | HO!!

DAVENPORT, IOWA — When Frank Fritz, co-star of the long-running History Channel series American Pickers, passed away, the world mourned the loss of a television icon and a true American collector. But what no one could have predicted was the storm of speculation and intrigue that would follow when the doors to his private Iowa garage were finally unlocked.

Inside, beyond the dust and cobwebs, investigators stumbled upon a car so mysterious, so out of place, that it has sparked a new chapter in automotive folklore—and left experts, friends, and fans asking: What was Frank really hiding, and why?

A Collector Beyond Compare

Frank Fritz was never just a “picker.” He was a storyteller, a historian, and a man obsessed with rescuing the forgotten relics of America’s past. From his earliest days, Frank’s fascination with old things wasn’t about profit or fame; it was about giving value and voice to objects left behind by time.

Unlike many in the world of antiques, Frank wasn’t interested in the glitz of auction houses or the fleeting fame of social media. He was on a mission—a mission to preserve history, one find at a time.

His partnership with Mike Wolfe on American Pickers brought his quiet passion to millions, but even on camera, Frank’s approach was distinct. While Mike’s energy filled the screen, Frank worked in silence, letting his encyclopedic knowledge and reverence for craftsmanship do the talking. He was the kind of man who could spend hours in a cluttered garage, brushing away decades of dust to find the one item everyone else had missed.

But behind the scenes, Frank’s collecting took on an almost monastic quality. He shunned the spotlight, and as the years wore on, his life became increasingly private. The heart of his world was a nondescript, musty garage in Iowa—a place that, after his death, would become the epicenter of one of the greatest mysteries in American car collecting.

Inside Frank’s Secret Garage

The first thing that hits you when you step into Frank Fritz’s garage is the smell: a blend of motor oil, old leather, and the unmistakable tang of rust. The space is cramped and dim, a far cry from the velvet-roped showrooms of high-end collectors. But for Frank, this was a sanctuary—a place where history could breathe, unbothered by the demands of modernity.

Lined up beneath dusty tarps and oil-stained covers were eight vehicles, each a chapter in the story of American motoring. There was the 1956 Chevrolet Bel Air, its once-glittering chrome now dulled by time but still exuding the optimism of postwar America. Next to it, the 1967 Ford Fairlane GT390—a true muscle car, lovingly restored by Frank at great personal expense. The 1960s Cadillac Fleetwood, a monument to midcentury luxury, sat nearby, its wood trim and leather seats faded but intact.

But these were just the beginning. Frank’s collection also included two ultra-rare 1954 Nash Healey sports cars—masterpieces of American-European collaboration—and a 1914 Metz cyclecar, a three-wheeled oddity from the dawn of the automotive age. Each vehicle had been selected not for its value, but for its story. Frank wasn’t building a museum or a business; he was building a legacy.

The Car That Shouldn’t Exist

It was at the far end of the garage, beneath a gray tarp stained with decades of oil and grime, that investigators found the car that would stop them cold. At first glance, it looked like a Corvette—sleek, low to the ground, with swooping lines and a prominent rear deck. But something was off. The body was fiberglass, the front grill distinctive, the proportions not quite matching any known production model.

There was no VIN plate. Instead, a brass tag was riveted to the firewall, its sequence of numbers unlike anything used by General Motors. The car’s design echoed the legendary 1963 Corvette Grand Sport, of which only five were ever built—and all five accounted for. So what was this car? And how had it ended up in Frank Fritz’s garage?

As investigators pored over the vehicle, a local mechanic was summoned. His verdict: “It looks like a Grand Sport, but it isn’t one of the five. This shouldn’t exist.” Theories began to swirl—was it a lost prototype, a mule car built for testing, or the product of a rogue engineer with access to factory molds? The mystery deepened when a faded, handwritten note was found taped to Frank’s workbench: “I left everything there.” It offered no explanation, only more questions.

Frank’s Final Years: A Life in Shadows

In his final years, Frank’s life became increasingly withdrawn. After leaving American Pickers in 2021, citing health issues and back surgery, he retreated from public life almost entirely. Friends described him as reclusive, rarely answering calls or leaving home. His only public glimpses came through sporadic social media posts—one showing his 1939 Plymouth Coupe, another discussing his ongoing restoration of the Fairlane. Even as his health declined, Frank’s passion for collecting never wavered. He continued to acquire cars, sometimes sight unseen, relying on middlemen and his own finely honed instincts.

But as his world shrank, so did his circle of confidants. Not even his closest friends knew the full extent of his collection. The garage became both a refuge and a vault, locked tight against prying eyes. Rumors circulated: Was Frank hiding a secret list of mythic vehicles? Was he involved in a shadowy deal with a retired GM engineer? The truth, it seemed, was known only to Frank—and perhaps, now, to the car he left behind.

The Aftermath: Opening Pandora’s Garage

After Frank’s death, the legal wrangling over his estate began. Eventually, attorneys and investigators were granted access to his garage. The moment the lock turned and the heavy door creaked open, a collective breath was held—not just by those present, but by fans and collectors around the world. What would they find? Hidden treasure, or just the ramblings of a man obsessed with the past?

What they found was something in between. The cars were real, their stories profound. But it was the mystery car—the possible “sixth Grand Sport”—that captured imaginations. No record exists of such a vehicle. General Motors declined to comment, distancing itself from the speculation. Yet whispers persisted: had Frank uncovered a lost chapter in American automotive history? Or had he simply preserved a well-crafted replica, its origins as mysterious as the man himself?

The Legacy: More Than Metal and Mystery

In the months since the garage was opened, the car has become the subject of intense debate among collectors, historians, and automotive journalists. Offers have poured in from museums and private collectors alike, but the estate has declined to sell. For now, the car remains where Frank left it—a riddle wrapped in fiberglass, waiting for someone to unlock its secrets.

But perhaps that is exactly as Frank intended. Throughout his life, he resisted the temptation to turn his passion into spectacle. He understood that not every story needs to be told, not every treasure needs to be displayed. Some things are worth preserving simply for their own sake—a lesson that resonates now more than ever.

Conclusion: The Mystery Endures

Frank Fritz’s garage was more than a storage space; it was a time capsule, a testament to one man’s devotion to history. The discovery of the hidden car has raised more questions than answers, but in doing so, it has ensured that Frank’s legacy will endure—challenging future generations to look beyond the surface, to dig deeper, and to remember that sometimes, the greatest treasures are those that remain just out of reach.

As the dust settles and the world moves on, one thing is clear: Frank Fritz didn’t just collect cars. He collected stories. And in the end, he left us with one last, unforgettable mystery.