“I lived in a van on the beach for 15 years on 50 euros a week”

With all the other stereotypes, there’s always an arm, a leg or part of the head sticking out of the mould. An artist? He’s certainly creative.

A stroll around his estate would leave anyone speechless. All around his house are piles of wheeled Frankensteins of every kind: an off-roader converted into a table, a limousine transformed into a 4x4, a pram fitted with a 100-horsepower engine… yet his work lacks the sentimentality and sensitivity typically associated with an artist.

Perhaps an inventor? Hughes is curious by nature and never stops experimenting. But an inventor seeks to create solutions; Gwilym’s work, on the other hand, pursues quite the opposite.

A rebel? He left home at a very young age and, at barely 18, ended up in Cadiz, where he lived for years in a van, rebelling against the system. He questions the norms and is a non-conformist, but he doesn’t quite fit that mould either: that label overlooks his entrepreneurial side.

Then comes the ‘mad genius’: eccentricity, just like that of his creations; an intelligence that explains how he taught himself; an obsession with work to the point of making it a way of life; organised chaos — to anyone else’s eyes, his workshop is a chaotic jumble of scrap and metal; but not to him—and projects that border on the impossible, some halted due to a lack of funding and others simply because there was no way to take them any further.

Today, this ‘Victor Frankenstein of the wheels’ opens the doors to his world for SUR, to reveal what goes on in a mind that is, to say the least, different. He does so in front of a Lamborghini Diablo.

– How did you end up here?

–To answer that, we have to go back a long way. I came to Spain when I was 18, in a van. At first, I came to go windsurfing. In the end, I ended up living in that van on the beach in Tarifa for 15 years. I’d take on any job I could find, but basically I lived like a total hippie (Laughs). In the end, I ended up buying a house in Tarifa, a warehouse in Algeciras, opening a bar in Tarifa, and a motorbike tour company… I was always tinkering with cars and motorbikes.

– They say that to be a hippie you need to have money.

–(Laughs) Exactly, yes. Although for a long time I was living on the beach in Tarifa on 50 euros a week. I didn’t drive the van; I walked everywhere, carried water in jerrycans… I was living like a proper hippie. It’s an incredible life as long as the weather’s not bad.

– Have you worked for everything you have?

–Well, I come from a wealthy family. But I’ve also achieved things in my own right. The inheritance from my grandparents has enabled me to buy this estate.

– Where does this obsession with wheels and tuning come from?

–It’s always been like this. When I was 13, I bought my first car and started cutting it up. My cousin gave me a welding machine and, at the age of 14, I started building a buggy from scratch, which I finished two and a half years later. When I moved into my van, I completely overhauled that as well. I’ve never studied this, but I’ve been doing it all my life.

– Do you see this as a hobby or madness?

–I don’t think it’s mad. Besides, I’m trying to make a name for myself on social media, and as we know, you’ve got to be a bit different. I love the excuse I have for doing these things. It’s really hard to get up in the morning and think, "Today I’m going to put 110 horsepower into my daughter’s toy pushchair." Now I’ve got the perfect excuse. I have to do it – it’s necessary (Laughs).

– What would you say is your craziest creation?

–The picnic bench at the entrance (a Jeep converted into a table with beer taps and a 300-horsepower engine). But there’s a story behind this project. At a business we used to run in Algeciras, we had a workshop and a bar that doubled as an events venue. The bar served beer and the workshop sold petrol. My YouTube channel was originally called ‘Beer and Petrol’. However, getting sponsorships with an alcoholic drink in the title proved very difficult, so I had to change it to ‘Destino 33’. The picnic bench is exactly that: beer and petrol.

– And which one have you spent the most time on?

–An Iveco 4x4 lorry. It didn’t go down well on social media, but I spent nine months working on it every day to finish it.

– Is there any project you regret?

–It’s just that I really love working, to be honest. It’s a shame when the videos aren’t a hit and I’ve put a lot of effort into them, because I don’t want to stop.

– Is this the life you wanted?

–It’s a dream. I want social media platforms to pay me to do exactly what I want to do. And this is exactly what I want to do. If I can pay my electricity bill, buy food and keep doing this, then as far as I’m concerned, I’ve won.

– How much of what you have is rubbish and how much is a treasure?

–Almost all of it’s rubbish. (Laughs). The Lamborghini Diablo’s the exception, as is my Lancia – which isn’t here because I’m selling it (a Delta Integrale). It’s not here because the dogs would jump all over it, the rats would get in… I don’t want anything shiny in here.

– Any crazy projects you’re working on at the moment?

–Yes, a four-by-four boat to take out into the desert. I’ve got a friend in Morocco asking whether I’ll be able to drive it on the road because it’s so extreme.

– What car would you buy if you had unlimited money?

–A Brabus G63. But I’d take off the standard wheels, fit some off-road tyres and raise the suspension.

– What do you think of the direction the automotive industry is taking?

–I try to focus only on what’s happening in America. I don’t actually have a problem with electric cars. The problem is all the restrictions that stop you from driving. I still want to drive. And there are some cool electric cars.

– Would you buy an electric car?

–Yes, but I’m going to reprogramme it to get rid of everything so I can enjoy it (Laughs).