As the taxi drove off, I wondered if I had the right address. I double-checked that the location I had written on a scrap of paper was the same as the street sign in front of me and, yes, they matched. I had been lead to believe that I would be visiting a supercar mecca of sorts, and yet all that surrounded me on each side of the dirty brick street were small concrete buildings with strange names like Crazy Club and Top Jr.
I strolled through an open garage door on a rather nondescript service garage and found myself face to face with two Pagani Zondas and a Gemballa Mirage GT. That’s $3.1-million of machinery right in front of me with no warning at all. Welcome to Beijing tuner street.
Why are all these exotic car dealers on the same grungy block? Apparently, this automotive oasis is the result of a zoning ruling that put all the high-end car shops and retailers together. The shops have been in this location for about five years now and though shops and dealers continue to be built elsewhere in the city, the tuner street remains.
I call it “tuner street,” but there’s actually no official name for this supercar mecca. Unlike the Beijing Auto Museum, tuner street is very hard to find. The Chinese refer to it as the “cool cars factory,” but it’s known among English-speakers as tuner street or tuner village. There are no signs to mark its location, and it’s very possible to drive right by without even knowing it was there. I had to convince my Chinese taxi driver that this place existed and even then, it took 25 minutes of wrong turns to find it.

This Hongqi CA770 was parked in a roped off corner at The First Station in Beijing’s tuner village
Clayton Seams, Driving
The journey, I assure you, is worth it. From Dakar racing MAN trucks to Morgan three-wheelers to Paganis, the tuner street has everything imaginable — shops specializing in everything from 911s to off-roaders to drift cars to rotaries can be found.
One of the more amazing sights in tuner street is a retailer called “The First Station.” Looking more like a converted mall than a showroom, The First Station (also referred to as simply, Number One by the Chinese) is so huge that the sales associates get around on Razor kick scooters. It’s a bizarre sight to see a well-dressed salesperson scooting toward you between rows of Aston Martins and Bentleys.
But the most mysterious resident on tuner street is a little shop called FFF. Listed as an official distributor for Koenigsegg and Mansory, this shop has a useless website and tiny storefront. Inside, there were no people, save for a security guard and a lone mechanic. My shoes echoed on the tile as I walked around the silent showroom. I’m fairly certain that FFF realizes that foot traffic is hardly crucial when selling million-dollar cars. The exotic cars showcased at FFF during my visit were a Melkus RS 2000, Mercedes G63 AMG, Zonda F, Zonda Cinque and a Gemballa Mirage GT.
Modern China is a land of great economic contrasts, and the Beijing tuner street displays the gap to its fullest extent. Is there anywhere else in the world where you can buy a seven-figure hypercar one block away from an apartment on a dirt street? Despite the neighborhood, I’d heartily recommend a trip to the tuner street if you desire a bit of window shopping.
