Tales of the Urban Explorer: The Decaying Garage

You might think this is a boring cover picture and you would be right. I did confer with @anidiotexlores about this one before starting to write.

'Keep it quiet, it's gone dark and is off the radar', he advised me. I have images of the front gate complete with the company name, but a little Googling will find it with ease and then the fucking TourBus arrives. It was not a spectacular exploration but nonetheless was interesting.

So apologies but I don’t want this old decaying, rotting garage being sabotaged by the hordes of ravenous, starving wannabe explorers who will still attempt to find it, despite my masking.

Passing by the front bar, we approached a large corrugated iron fence around 12 feet in height. @anidiotexplores peered through a makeshift letterbox looking around for signs of life.

"It looks empty but if I climb over that and there are four Dobermans that appear from nowhere, then I'm fucked and will be mauled alive”, he told me with a little apprehension.

The thought of being eaten alive was a promising start, however...

This was no drive-by and had been leaked in confidence. Someone else had already done it, reducing the chances of those man-eating dogs quite significantly.

I regret not taking more images of the big gate, but it was scalable with care due to the thick metal slats at regular intervals on both sides. This might help the gate become more stable but is very bad when it comes to deterring would-be robbers.

Of course, we were not there to rob anything, but those who might be inside would think otherwise, seeing two dodgy blokes climbing over.

Despite assurances that 'The Decaying Garage' was abandoned, walking past the digger and toward the orange car was a tense experience and nerve-racking.

I looked to my left and spotted a shit-stained, tyre-covered portacabin, with muddy windows and the door slightly ajar. Was there a fuming, raging garage bloke waiting inside with a crowbar that could not be reasoned with?

Moving closer to what looked like the 'main building', not a thing moved and the atmosphere was deadly quiet. This means 'good' in the world of Urban Exploration, I don't particularly want to see anyone.

We passed the orange car and spotted no vandalism, this is one of the reasons this must be kept quiet.

Under a makeshift shelter, a leather sofa sat perhaps waiting for future customers to 'take a seat'.

The double doors suggest this could be the main repair shop. We tried all ways to get inside, but it was sealed tight.

Several vehicles were dotted around, the most significant being this Jaguar V12 XJS. Was it someone's pride and joy, brought for repair and never collected?

I am thinking it may need a little work to become roadworthy once again.

Backtracking past a truck we eyed the portacabin hoping to see anything other than a rampaging human inside after our souls. The gate we had conquered earlier revealed a strange message.

'Why the aversion to children?'

This was more like it, some junk to search through and maybe get a handle on whose garage it was, why it was abandoned, and more importantly, what devious habits the owner kept hidden.

With a header such as 'Platinum Recoveries' I thought it might be a debt collection agency, but it was just some boring crap about catalytic converters.

The bill is dated 2017, from when electricity bills were not totally ridiculous, and reveals Mr. Roberston as the ex-owner.

Once upon a time, this was a busy business.

Besides these keys, there were plenty more. We could have spent all day trying to get one of these wrecks to turnover, but I know it would be in vain.

‘Gunk’, I love the brand name.

It probably still works but was a little battered. This was just one of many items of value that still lives in ‘The Decaying Garage’.

They look like Service Manuals, and not back issues of Playboy. I thought all dodgy garage dudes bought and hoarded porn?

Images such as this I still need to mask addresses, because people will zoom in and retrieve them, visit 'The Decaying Garage' which will then become 'The Vandalised Garage'.

Spotting a caravan, this time with the door wide open we entered without hesitation. If there were snarling pooches with hot dripping saliva they not showing up anywhere.

Home sweet home for Mr. Robertson I presume? It's always good to have a backup TV, even if the top one may give you a little neck strain.

Once it might have been a decent VCR. I was taking notice of the number of cigarette lighters resting on it.

Let's face it, if you own a ramshackle garage, smoking is mandatory, and in this case Amber Leaf and Rizlas. Leaving all your butts hanging around adds to the story, but is hardly squeaky clean.

A lion with tits, furniture polish, malt vinegar, chocolate biscuits, and curry powder. Add 140 fags a day and it all days up to a balanced diet.

Plenty of lighters, as well as the ones sitting on the VCR, a little cash, and the mandatory bottle of HP sauce and you could live very comfortably.

… and if that’s not enough, peas eaten directly from tins washed down with a bottle of cheap Prosecco.

Now with a clear image of Mr. Roberson, we left his hovel caravan and looked at the big gate.

… “Hmmm, here we go again” …

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