What began as a backyard hobby between mates has grown into one of Tasmania’s most respected restoration workshops for classic cars. By Allan Edwards
When Beau McNeil looks across the small Moonah workshop in Tasmania that houses Full Metal Restorations, he sees more than just cars. He sees a lifetime of lessons passed down from his father, and a business that grew not from a business plan, but from passion, patience and persistence.
“My Dad was a panel beater and spray painter before I was born,” Beau says. “He was the kind of guy who never did anything halfway. Everything had to be done right.”
Beau’s father, Jim McNeil, was a craftsman in the truest sense – a stonemason, tinkerer and artist who applied the same precision to a wall or a bonnet. “He had the Midas touch,” Beau recalls. “I remember when he rebuilt his old XY ute. The first drive in that car stuck with me forever.”
That moment set Beau on a path that would eventually lead to Full Metal Restorations, a business he now runs with his brother-in-law and lifelong friend, Marc Green.
When hobby turned to habit
The early days weren’t about profit or production schedules. They were about learning, experimenting and enjoying time together in the shed.
Beau was working in car parts at the time when a side-swiped BMW crossed his path.
“My boss offered it to me for a couple of grand,” he says. “Dad reckoned we could fix it. So I bought it, and we used Marc’s shed to get it going. That’s how it started.”
From that first project, the bug took hold. “We did up Dad’s Bedford van in Mum’s driveway and realised we needed more space,” Beau says.
“So we rented a little shed. It was just a hobby. I’d work my day job, then head down there at night and on weekends.”
The three men – Beau, Marc and Jim – restored cars for the joy of it.
“We weren’t chasing money. We’d hang out, have a cup of tea, talk rubbish and fix things. It was just good fun.”
But word spread. Friends started bringing in their own projects. The cars kept coming, and the hobby began to take on a life of its own.
Turning passion into profession
As the workload grew, so did the expectations. “Dad was unwell by then and couldn’t do as much, but he’d still come down and help when he could. Eventually, Marc and I bought all the gear from him and decided to have a go at doing it properly.”
That’s when Full Metal Restorations was born. They rented a slightly larger space, set up their own equipment and started charging for their work.
“At first, we were on about 50 bucks an hour,” Beau says. “Then we went to 70, and all the tight-arses dropped off. That was the best thing that could have happened. It left us with the customers who valued quality.”
The business soon outgrew its second home. “We ended up in a bigger shed for a while, shared it with the local bus society, we even had a little car yard out front,” Beau recalls.
“It was a great time – we were still learning, still figuring things out.”
The hard lessons of growth
Like many small workshops, expansion came with growing pains. A move into a larger facility brought more staff, more administration, and more pressure.
“We had six guys plus us,” Beau said. “The idea was to keep our small shop for restorations and run the bigger place for insurance work. But then life happened. Mum got sick and that pulled me away from the shop.”
The dream of running two operations at once didn’t survive.
“We went back to the smaller place. Funny thing is, we ended up making more money with just the two of us than we ever did with a team of eight.”
A workshop built by hand
The compact Moonah workshop can hold about five cars, with a storage yard across the road, and is a shrine to hands-on engineering: English wheels, rollers, shrinkers, stretchers, and a well-worn Seetal side-draft spray booth from the 1990s that still lays down flawless finishes.
“I don’t like polishing – so the paint has to be perfect when it comes out of the booth,” Beau says, who also credits the product supplied by Spectrum Car Paints in Moonah.
They also have an AutoRobot chassis bench, though it’s currently packed away for space reasons. “We don’t do much heavy smash work,” he adds. “We’re better with a hammer and a dolly. Old school, but effective.”
Rust, restorations and reality
Today, the shop juggles classic restorations with steady insurance work.
“The insurance jobs keep the lights on, but the restorations are what we love. We usually take on a couple a year, depending on the size of the build.”
Tasmania’s wet climate keeps them busy with rust repairs, too. “We get a lot of vans and old cruisers. No one else wants to touch rust down here, so we end up with it. It’s all hand-formed metalwork – no shortcuts.”
Payment plans are structured around fortnightly billing to avoid the common trap of unpaid hours.
“We used to just take a bit here and there, but it’s too hard to track. Now we bill for the hours we do. If someone doesn’t want to pay, they can pick their car up. It keeps things honest.”
Builds behind the reputation
If there’s one project that symbolises how far they’ve come, it’s a 1971 Toyota Corolla K20 restoration that Beau describes as the workshop’s masterpiece.
“That car was special, the owners were great – they let us do it properly. I had a Corolla shell sitting in a paddock for years that turned out to be perfect for it. It was like it was meant to be.”
Every inch of the car was stripped, repaired and rebuilt by hand.
“We didn’t cut corners anywhere... It’s just beautiful.”
But the Corolla is just one of hundreds of projects to pass through the Moonah workshop. Kombi vans have become something of a signature, with dozens restored over the years – from early split-windows and bay-window campers to late-model Transporters.
The workshop has also rebuilt HQ Holdens, Bedford vans, Datsun coupes and even a Ferrari Dino – each treated with the same precision.
“It doesn’t matter if it’s a family car or an exotic. We do them all the same way – properly!”
Partnership built on balance
While Beau is the talker and organiser, Marc is the quiet perfectionist.
“We’ve been working together for years – even before this, in construction. We balance each other,” Beau says.
Neither man followed a traditional apprenticeship path.
“I never worked in another bodyshop. I learned from Dad and from actually doing it. Marc worked in a few shops, but he’s self-taught too. It’s just time and experience.”
Staying small, staying true
Beau and Marc have no immediate plans to expand again. “We might look at hiring in the future, but we’re not chasing it, we’ve learned that bigger doesn’t always mean better.”
Their focus now is on maintaining their standards and reputation.
“Everyone’s an expert these days,” Beau says.
“But for us, it’s simple – we do everything 100 percent properly. That’s what people expect when they come here.”
It’s a philosophy that has earned them respect within Tasmania’s tight-knit automotive scene. “If you haven’t heard anything bad about someone, that’s usually a good sign. We’ve fixed a lot of other people’s work over the years.”
Back to where it all began
Despite the challenges, Beau says the business has never lost sight of its roots – a family shed, a shared project, and a love of bringing cars back to life.
“We started this because we loved it. Even now, after all the ups and downs, that’s still why we do it.”
He gestures to the half-finished Datsun 240Z sitting quietly in the corner – his personal project, waiting for another few hours of attention after work.
“That one’s for me, I just love the process. Welding, shaping, getting it right – it’s what keeps me sane.”
In an industry driven by insurance schedules and rapid turnarounds, Full Metal Restorations stands as a reminder that quality takes time – and that the best things often start as hobbies.
“We’re not in it for fame or followers,” Beau says.
“We just want to build cars properly, like Dad taught us. When you see the finished product – something that was once just rust and memory – it’s satisfying. That’s what it’s all about.”