### The Hidden Mystery in Frank Fritz’s Garage

Frank Fritz, the quiet, meticulous picker from *American Pickers*, passed away in 2021, leaving behind a legacy shrouded in secrecy. His longtime partner Mike Wolf and fans mourned the man who turned antique collecting into an art form. But after his death, the opening of his sealed Iowa garage revealed treasures—and a riddle that shouldn’t exist.

Fritz’s passion for collecting began in childhood, evolving into a lifelong obsession. Teaming up with Mike Wolf, he scoured garages, barns, and auctions, rescuing forgotten relics. Unlike Wolf’s flamboyance, Fritz was reserved, letting his deep knowledge shine. He wasn’t in it for fame or fortune; he revived history, valuing cars for their stories over profit. His musty garage housed no lavish displays—just frozen-in-time machines, carefully selected for their profound narratives.

Among the finds were icons like the 1956 Chevrolet Bel Air, symbolizing 1950s prosperity with its curved body and chrome fins; the 1967 Ford Fairlane GT390, a muscle car bought for $7,000 and restored for another $4,000; the 1960s Cadillac Fleetwood, epitomizing luxury; two rare 1954 Nash Healey sports cars, a blend of American and Italian design; the pioneering 1914 Mertz cycle car; and the exotic 1947 Cisitalia Novalari Spider Pinifarina, worth over $500,000.

In his final years, Fritz grew reclusive. Health issues led him to quit *American Pickers* in 2021, citing back surgery. He stopped picking up calls, rarely posted online, and kept his garage locked—even from family. Yet, he continued collecting via middlemen, acquiring oddities like a nondescript “moon car” that baffled neighbors.

Rumors swirled: Was he compiling a secret list of mythical vehicles? Dealing with a retired GM engineer for hidden prototypes? His cryptic remarks fueled speculation—”There’s something in that garage that’ll outlive all of us.”

Post-death, legal access unveiled the collection. Amid dust and cobwebs sat the usual gems, but at the rear, under a grimy tarp, lay a fiberglass-bodied enigma resembling a 1963 Corvette Grand Sport. No VIN, just a faded brass tag with odd numbers. Experts noted similarities to the rare Grand Sport—only five were made, all accounted for. Was this a sixth prototype? A mule car? A fabrication?

A yellowed note taped to a workbench read: “I left everything there.” It hinted at intentional mystery, a challenge to future generations to preserve history.

Speculations abound: A shady GM deal, an abandoned prototype, or a crooked engineer’s creation. GM stayed silent, but whispers suggest an undocumented model. Collectors offered blank checks; museums begged preservation. Yet, the estate kept it untouched.

Fritz’s garage wasn’t just storage—it was a sanctuary of steel and time. The mystery car, possibly a lost Grand Sport, embodies his philosophy: some relics aren’t for show; they’re legacies to safeguard. In death, Fritz left not just artifacts, but a puzzle urging us to cherish the past.