It started as a joke. Now, three Philly friends are the proud owners of their very own garage.

It was a very Philly problem.

Corey McMillan, Luke Elrath, and Jeremy Stock were longtime friends. All in their mid-to-late-40s and all self-described “motorheads,” the South Philadelphia residents loved to spend their free time restoring old vehicles and, over the years, had come to amass a small assortment of trucks, cars, motorcycles, and bicycles.

It was a side passion, started as a way to save money on mechanic fees or escape — for an hour or two, at least — the stresses of daily life.

The issue was, this was Philly, where century-old rowhouses dominate the local housing stock and a home garage is notoriously difficult to come by. While they all owned at least one classic vehicle, none had a garage of his own.

Then, last spring, came a crazy idea.

What if we bought one ourselves?

Through the years, the three friends had done their best to make it work: They’d tinkered on sidewalks or rented out space in under-the-table — and sometimes dubious — commercial garages. Elrath was so desperate for space that, for a time, he used the living room of his apartment as a workshop for bicycle-related repairs.

“I’d roll back the [rug] and get to work on the hardwood floor,” he said.

As the years passed, they’d largely accepted this as the price of city living, making due however they could.

McMillan, 49, kept his 1970 Ford Truck at his family’s place in the Catskills, working on it only when he could make the trip up from Philadelphia. For the 2001 Audi TT Roadster he was restoring, Stock found a cramped space over the river in Haddonfield that was “so small I couldn’t work on the car at all.” Elrath rented a spot in a garage that doubled as a storage unit for the Mummers — grateful to have even that.

“If that was all I had for the next decade, I’d consider myself at least lucky for that,” he said.

Then, one day this spring, McMillan — who by day works as a professor at the University of Pennsylvania — stumbled upon a curious Instagram post.

It was a property listing, for a sizable South Philly garage. 3,000 square feet. Brick walls and a reinforced concrete floor. Located on a narrow, nondescript residential street. Listed for $380,000.

Notably, it was located within a mile and a half of each of their homes.

McMillan texted the listing to his two buddies, who over the course of the day traded a flurry of bemused texts — daydreaming of what they’d be able to do with a space all their own.

“It was a full day of talking about it like what would we do if we won the lottery,” said Stock, 46, who works in marketing technology for a pharmaceutical company.

It was all in fun, insists McMillan. “Just kind of like, Haha, isn’t this funny?”

But when Stock woke up the next morning, there was something about the idea he couldn’t shake.

I just can’t get this out of my mind, he texted the group.

Neither could Elrath, it turned out. Or McMillan, who was already preparing for how he might broach the idea with his wife.

That weekend, the three of them went to look at the space.

It was a cavernous, nearly windowless structure. There was no heat or air-conditioning. A rusted beer fridge stood in the back. In one corner was a small bathroom, which was easy to find considering it had no walls — just a toilet and sink anchored to an elevated patch of concrete.

“Absolute heaven,” Stock said.

Soon enough, the three were running the idea past their wives. And though it took a bit of getting used to — “Buying a second property was not on my 2026 bingo card,” said Danielle Burrows, Stock’s wife — everyone ultimately bought in.

Not long after, McMillan was meeting with a transactions lawyer, who helped navigate the three-way purchase, and, suddenly, they were signing the sale documents — the proud owners of a South Philly garage.

“It all happened so fast,” said McMillan. “It didn’t feel real. It still doesn’t.”

They began moving their things in early June, said Stock, “and immediately got to wrenchin’.”

Recently, McMillan brought his Ford Truck from the Catskills to the garage, and has begun working on it a couple times a week. Elrath, 49, who works as a subject matter expert investigating bicycle crashes, has three motorcycles and a slew of bicycles on-site, and tries make it over to the garage five days a week to tinker with them.

Stock is preparing to take ownership of a 1970 Triumph TR 6, a sporty British roadster in need of significant work, which, he says, will “be a nice multiyear project that we’re going to take on.”

“As the budget allows,” his wife quickly added.

On a recent evening inside the garage, the three friends still seemed in awe that it had all come together so nicely. So far, they agreed, it’s been a revelation. Working side by side, they’re able to share tools and the technical know-how they’ve accumulated through the years. Maybe best of all, it’s been an excuse to see each other regularly. Their wives have begun using the hashtag “GarageWives” in the friends’ group chat.

A month and a half in, meanwhile, the place is starting to feel like home. McMillan’s wife found a used espresso maker. Someone brought over some old speakers. There are rumors of a potential couch.

There is still plenty left to do; there are plans to add a lift, and the rotting wood floor of the upstairs hay loft needs replacing.

On this night, however, they seemed perfectly content as they worked on their respective vehicles in satisfied silence — the only sound the clank of tools, the hum of a pair of floor fans, and the sweet crack of a fresh fridge beer.

Heaven, indeed.