In the summer of 1978, two children digging in a residential yard hit something that didn’t sound like plumbing. Within hours, sheriff’s deputies and tow operators were peeling plastic sheeting and tar paper off a mud-caked Ferrari Dino 246 GTS — a discovery that ricocheted from local newscasts to national headlines and has since become one of California’s most enduring automotive legends.
Investigators confirmed the car matched a prior theft claim filed years earlier. The mid-engine targa-top had been interred nose-down, wrapped to keep water out and packed in the soil with surprising care. Detectives at the time said the burial method suggested an attempt to preserve the car rather than destroy it; how the Italian exotic migrated from a theft report to a suburban grave was never publicly resolved.
Garage Lighting for Collectors: How to See Swirls, Not Just Your Car
Authorities documented the chassis, notified insurers and winched the Ferrari from the pit as neighbors gathered at the curb. Photographs from the scene showed a once-sleek Dino emerging like a time capsule, its signature curves obscured by clay and its signature “chairs and flares” silhouette barely visible. What followed was a tug-of-war familiar to stolen-property cases: paperwork, possession questions and, ultimately, a path to a restorer willing to bet that steel, aluminum and fiberglass could be coaxed back from a backyard burial.
That wager paid off. After a comprehensive rebuild — the body stripped and repaired, the V-6 engine overhauled, the interior re-trimmed — the car reappeared years later on manicured grass, trading dirt for concours detailing. The unlikely survivor became a fixture at shows and museums, wearing its past as a backstory rather than a blemish. Collectors sought it out not because it was the rarest Dino, but because it was the one that somehow went underground and came back.
10 Must-Have Tools and Gear for the Modern Car Collector (Amazon Edition)
The episode remains a case study in how theft, insurance and myth can collide. The Dino’s journey from stolen property to buried artifact to restored showpiece underscored both the vulnerability and the resilience of valuable classics. For law enforcement, it was an unusual recovery that ended without a tidy narrative arc. For enthusiasts, it became a parable about provenance: documentation matters, but so do the stories that cling to the metal.
Nearly five decades on, the “buried Ferrari” still surfaces in retellings every time a new barn-find makes waves. Few discoveries can match the image of deputies hosing earth from a plastic-wrapped sports car as children look on — a reminder that sometimes the most astonishing barn-finds aren’t found in barns at all.
Comments