Juan Carlos Guerra

Juan Carlos grew up on the Texas–Mexico border, where an air-cooled 911 was a rare thing and the people who could keep one alive were rarer still.

He learned the trade the slow way: hammer and dolly, torch and file, lead and paint, in small shops where the right part was usually the one you had to make yourself. By the time he was rebuilding his first 911 SC, he could form a fender by eye. By the time he was rebuilding his third, he had stopped trusting his eye and started measuring everything.

The frustration that shaped 911 Imports came from parts. Factory panels for long-hood cars were unobtainable or ruinously expensive. Reproductions rarely fit, and the ones that did fit were often subtly wrong in ways you only noticed once the car was painted. Each restoration began with a compromise, and a compromise at the start never comes out at the end.

So he began scanning. First the good original parts that passed through the shop, then whole cars, then anything an owner would lend him. As the library grew, the question changed from “where do I find this part” to “how accurately can I make it”. Machine learning trained on that library now reconstructs a damaged scan into the surface the factory intended, and 3D-printed tooling turns the digital master into a buck a craftsman can work over the same day.

The vision is coachbuilding that is more faithful than restoration and more personal than a factory special-wish programme: a car specified by one owner, built around digitally perfect geometry, and finished by hand in the materials Porsche would have chosen. Every commission at 340 Well Lane is treated as exactly that.

“The scan tells us what the factory meant. The hands make it true.”