THE BUILD STORY THE ORIGIN & THE BUILD
A few months in the shop. Wiring that took way longer than I thought. And one very long-awaited flux capacitor.
Go back to the beginningTWO TIMELINES. ONE TIME MACHINE.
Before the wiring and the flux capacitor, there was the idea. Go back to where it started—or jump into the shop.
ORIGIN STORY / 29 PHOTOS
HOW FAR BACK YOU GOING?
I wrote this notebook entry on October 3, 1997 at the age of seven. There’s the DeLorean (apologies for the crudity of this model) with the gullwing doors drawn open.
On October 2, 2025, I picked up my stock DeLorean - almost exactly 28 years after I wrote that entry.
A lot changed in between for me, but wanting that Time Machine was always a dream.
I’m not sure when I watched Back to the Future for the first time, but I know it created a lot of milestones in my life.
At the age of 10, during my first ever guitar lesson, I told my teacher I wanted to learn Johnny B. Goode. I remember holding onto the backs of cars in the neighborhood on a skateboard. I thought the coolest person you could be in the world was Marty McFly, even if he was a slacker.
I was in bands that went nowhere—because maybe I just wasn’t cut out for music. I desperately wanted to make a real-life hoverboard, and I’m sure the plans are in a stack of notebooks somewhere.
“If Time Travel were possible, why wouldn’t I go back and see if my Dad and I would get along?”I thought it then. I still think it now.
As I got older, I definitely found myself aligned more with Doc Brown than Marty. I got really into science and technology.
The guitars hang on the walls and collect dust while Tesla Coils, MOSFET Drivers, chemistry equipment, diodes and relays litter my workstation.
I’ll watch or read anything that has to do with space, time-travel, or Spacemen from Pluto. I’m a self-described mad-scientist tinkerer with a constant nagging desire to pull things apart and see how they tick.
When I was a kid, there was nothing cooler than the DeLorean Time Machine. In college, my peers talked about owning Lambos or Ferraris when they ‘hit it big.’ But one thing stayed constant during my journey down the space-time continuum: I wanted that stainless steel, Doc Brown-ified mess on wheels.
‘You know the car is really slow.’ ‘It’s a piece of garbage.’ ‘It can’t really go 88.’ ‘It’s an automotive nightmare.’ Pick your poison. No matter what people told me, it was a dream of mine to one day find myself in a Plutonium-Powered Time Machine.
When I lived in Los Angeles during the 2010s, I frequented the Petersen Automotive Museum. One day, the screen-used A-Car from the movie finally arrived on display.
I’ll let my facial expressions tell you how I felt during this meeting in March 2017. The spark was back. I wanted this car.
Fast-forward through decades of looking on eBay or Craigslist during lunch breaks, or scrolling my phone at night. On June 14, 2025, I finally had my opportunity: VIN 5172 was for sale about three hours away from me, already converted into a Time Machine. The asking price was high, but I didn’t care.
I remember sitting in the car and the salesman shutting the gullwing door over my head. The roof liner sagged onto my head and barely any of the electronics worked. But I wanted it so badly that I put a deposit down almost immediately.
Hell, nobody in the dealership could even figure out how the Time Circuits worked until I showed them. This had to be MY car.
With DeLorean Orlando just down the road, I called the manager to make sure they worked on converted cars. I’d only worked on American cars up to that point—never a rear-engine car, let alone one with such a short production run and hard-to-find parts. He assured me they did, then asked for the VIN so he could do some preliminary checks.
Things weren’t looking so good for #5172. I was told my budget would be very much inflated by what the car needed, and that I’d probably need to redo most of the Time Machine parts as well. Talk about heavy.
DeLorean Orlando just happened to have the perfect car for me. It was being fully restored from nearly the frame up, and on June 26, 2025, I became the owner of VIN #6030.
This one was a stock DeLorean. The Time Machine would come later. First came a long journey of patience while the restoration continued.
Robert Gadocha, the manager of DeLorean Orlando, recommended I talk to Bruce Coulombe of Coulombe Enterprises. Back to the Future, Jurassic Park, Ghostbusters, Knight Rider, Lost in Space—basically, if you’re interested in building a nerd-mobile, he’s your Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Bruce is an absolute master of the prop-making craft. After our first four-hour meeting, I knew I’d made the right choice. On July 2, 2025, I sat in one of HIS Time Machines at his shop. Now I KNEW. There was no way that other car was my car. Bruce was going to do the tinkering here.
Somewhere between the sound effects, wiring diagrams, smoke systems and props, I mentioned that I was fairly handy with tools. Once the restoration was done, I’d love to come up once or twice and get my hands dirty.
Bruce was kind and welcoming. If you REALLY know Bruce, though, I can only imagine his internal monologue: ‘This kid is going to come in here, damage or misplace my tools, and think there are right-handed and left-handed screwdrivers.’
Either way, the road was paved. Even if where I was going, I didn’t need roads.
On October 2, 2025, I got the call: my car was done at DMC Orlando. I probably could have RAN to their office faster than I drove over.
Pulling away in my beautifully restored DeLorean was one of the happiest moments of my life. It was the first time I’d ever driven one. Twenty-eight years, minus one day, after that notebook entry.
Over the next few months, I enjoyed the hell out of the car—even when it had maintenance issues. The warranty came in really clutch here. I drove it to shows, across the state, to the mailbox. The destination never mattered.
I’d accomplished something I’d put my mind to, nearly 30 years in the making. And yes, even the dog got a turn in the passenger seat.
On January 31, 2026, I brought the car to Bruce’s shop and dropped it off. He took one look at how beautifully sorted it was: ‘Are you sure you want to start drilling holes in this thing? This is a really gorgeous car.’
But the goal wasn’t to buy a DeLorean. It was owning THE DELOREAN.
A printed snapshot, a seat in a Time Machine, and a few moments out with the DeLorean. These photos don’t have recorded dates, but they belong in the story, too.
On my first day in the shop, Bruce gave me a list of things to do. I like to think he figured it would keep me busy for a few hours. I got them done in 20–30 minutes. At that point, he asked:
And the rest is history.
Now, I CANNOT take credit for the entire car. Bruce and his team did things I could never do: sourcing impossible-to-find props, welding work and plenty more. But I did build 90% of this car myself, and I’m very proud of that.
“If you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything.”Indeed.
THEN CAME THE CONVERSION.
First things first: the trim, center console, seats and binnacle came out. I added a digital speedo, signal amplifiers and the 95 mph sticker to the stock speedometer.
The rear windows were gone, too. A steel plate would cover the engine and give the reactor, cooling vents, accumulator tubes and the rest of the rear-deck hardware a place to live.
Doesn’t look like much now, but at least it’s started!
The cabin comes apart. The conversion begins.
I ran almost all of the wiring today. Almost. I forgot two wires for the exhaust vent lights.
The front and rear flux boxes went onto the body, and I started bending and shaping the flux band framing. The overhead console went in, with its wiring run behind the rear bulkhead.
Up front, I started wiring the fuse bus, battery charger and inverter. None of the Time Machine props run on the existing DeLorean battery or electrical system. With the wiring done—almost, two more wires—the rest of the install should happen fairly quickly!
Flux boxes, overhead console and the separate prop electrical system take shape.
Exciting day today. I wired up the TFC, added the plutonium gauges and the time circuits display. The SID display and heatsinks went onto the rear bulkhead, too.
Then I drilled the holes to mount the flux capacitor. It wasn’t in yet, but that moment was getting closer—and it was going to be insane.
Next up: more engine-deck props, including the plutonium reactor, and getting the exhaust fins positioned so I could swap between the Part I and Part II car easily.
Time circuits and plutonium gauges go in. A spot is ready for the flux capacitor.
Fabricating the PAC power coils—the “hockey pucks”—and getting them installed. Even the wire colors and gauges were matched to the A-Car.
The Particle Holding Tank Pre-Heater went on, and the driver’s pontoon was complete. Then it was on to fabricating the rear bulkhead and adding bolts for the props.
Bruce and I signed a lot of the props throughout the build in inconspicuous locations.. Time Capsules on a Time Machine.
Screen-accurate details, with a few signatures hidden away.
Really starting to look like a Time Machine here. The pontoons were filling up, and the Tachyon Pulse Generator on the roof was wired for lighting.
The first prop to be lit up on the DeLorean was one that never actually lit up on the Big Screen—the ATO Mufflers. I can turn these on and off from a switch on the TFC arm in the cabin for the purists out there.
ATO Mufflers turning on and off from the switch! It’s Alive!
The ATO Mufflers light up from the TFC arm.
Turning the control arm and seeing the time circuit display light up was definitely a highlight of the build so far.
I wired up the High Voltage Regulator, SID, TFC switch and digital speedo today. There was still plenty to do, but now I could sit in the car, turn that arm and watch it come to life.
The control arm brings the displays to life.
The exhaust vents got their lights, controlled by a switch on the TFC box so I could turn them off. I added lights and a speaker to the reactor base, too. Once fully wired, opening the reactor or Mr. Fusion would trigger a hiss, crackling and other sounds.
I used some spare vents lying around to position the deck and drill the wiring holes. Really exciting to see what was coming! My actual vents were still being welded and would be among the last pieces to go on, along with the flux capacitor.
Inside, I wired the door plungers for the door-opening sounds. And the avionics bay was looking beautiful. That neat, easy-to-track wiring was all done with care by Bruce Coulombe—I can’t take credit for that work!
Vent lights, reactor lighting and door sounds join the build.
Drilling the first hole into the DeLorean’s front driver quarter panel. The first cut is the deepest, indeed.
Saturday was all exterior wiring and tubing, connecting the front flux boxes to the ones on the roof. Something I thought would take a couple hours quickly consumed the entire day. I used pictures of the A-Car to match the cable angles, the loops and even the zip tie locations.
My car is an automatic, so I also swapped the transmission selector’s trim for a manual shift boot to get the movie-car look. There was a completed flux capacitor sitting on the workbench—but mine would be built and installed the next day.
The exterior cables are routed. The flux capacitor is next.
Spent the whole weekend in the shop and got a ton done, including the FLUX CAPACITOR!
On Sunday I finished the wiring underneath the rear of the car. Then came the long-awaited assembly and installation of the flux capacitor: build the housing, wire the circuit board, get it onto the rear bulkhead—and finally see it light up.
I also wired indicator lights from the TFC drive to the overhead console so I could tell which exterior lights were on. Then we tested the 88 mph sequence. Quite the lightshow!
Still waiting on the rear vents and flux bands, but the big one was finally in.
The flux capacitor is assembled, installed and illuminated.
Took a couple weekends off, then got back to the build. The rear bulkhead needed its relay banks, Torin blower and Time Circuits Control Junction box. Back to the A-Car reference photos.
For the blower, I added a diffuser and a ring of LEDs tied into the flux band module. It would match the bands and let me see their color from inside, so I didn’t accidentally drive around with red or blue bands. One switch on the TFC arm could kill both for a more movie-accurate look. I know the Torin blower didn’t light up, but I think it looks cool.
The plutonium reactor got its lighting, too. Most of the interior props were installed and wired now, aside from a few small hoses and relays. The rear deck was really starting to come alive.
Relay banks, a glowing Torin blower and reactor lighting come together.
After cleaning up the real wiring runs, it was time to start adding some additional prop wiring. The rear bulkhead was nearly complete, and I could even see the Torin blower glowing in the rear-view mirror.
The rear vents went on to check their placement. The plutonium reactor was slightly off-center once they were bolted down—this is why these tests are necessary! The vents would come back off for weathering, and the flux band tubes were off the car ready for their next round of work.
At the end of the day, Bruce and I were messing around with some fog effects.
Placement checks, prop wiring and a little fog at the end of the day.
The reactor vents started out shiny and new. Time to make them look like they belonged on a Plutonium-Powered Time Machine.
I added scorch marks, heat stress and the vent leak visible on the movie car. That leak was hand-painted with a thick material so it even has a textured feel. The lighting really shows off the weathering.
Seeing one weathered vent next to a fresh one made the difference obvious. With the stainless-steel bolts added and the vents back on the car, it was looking much more movie-accurate. Flux bands still off, though.
The vents get their scorch marks, heat tint and hand-painted leak.
Flux bands on the workbench, adding the lighting and rivets. Then back onto the car, with Bruce inspecting my handiwork to make sure it was up to his standards.
Once they were wired into the car’s prop power system, the bands lit up nicely. Seeing that glow all the way around the car was something else.
We placed a Mr. Fusion adapter plate assembly between the vents to see how it would look. Mine would be built the next time I was in the shop.
The flux bands are installed, wired and illuminated.
Mr. Fusion starts with a vintage Krups coffee grinder. Timer and grinding setting included, batteries sold separately.
I finished up the internal collision chamber while Bruce made sure the airlock top was ready. The chamber went onto the plate assembly, Mr. Fusion went on top, and Bruce checked it all over to make sure it was accurate.
Then we tested swapping between a Part I and Part II car. The plate assembly comes off easily, and the plutonium reactor takes its place. Mr. Fusion was finally in position, ready to accept garbage for fuel.
The list was getting shorter: finish the plutonium reactor top, wire a few interior props and re-install my driver seat.
Mr. Fusion is built and installed, with the Part I / Part II swap tested.
The goal wasn’t to buy a DeLorean—it was owning THE DELOREAN. After all the wiring, drilling, soldering and waiting, here I am sitting in the completed Time Machine.
I can’t take credit for the entire car. Bruce and his team did things I could never do, from sourcing impossible-to-find props to the welding work. But I built 90% of this car myself, and I’m very proud of that.
A childhood dream, now a completed Time Machine.
A couple more photos from the garage: doors up, rear deck lit, and plenty to look at.
Some things don’t change. I’m still the guy with a constant nagging desire to pull things apart and see how they tick. Only now there’s a Time Machine in the garage.
The build has become the car I get to live with.
BACK IN THE PRESENT
From the first day in the shop to a Time Machine in the garage. The experience keeps going. See the Time Machine as it is today—or bring Destination 88 to your next event.