Heaven in the city of angels: what the Petersen Museum reveals

"Are you going to the Petersen Museum?” was invariably the reply when I told people I was going to Los Angeles for the first time. I’d actually been sent over for a different job entirely, but clearly I needed to make the time.

You don’t even need to get inside to realise it’s something special, as the flowing ribbons of steel that make up the spectacular façade beckon you inside. Named after its founder, Robert E Petersen, a publishing magnate and serial car collector, this museum was set up in 1994 in an old department store, then heavily renovated in 2015.

There are 11 major exhibitions on at the time of my visit, and the top floor, where the tour starts, hosts just three of them, so who knows how much time I will end up spending in here…

What’s immediately apparent is how well laid-out everything is. Unlike in most car museums, the exhibits are really given space to breathe, letting you wander around and take them in from all angles.

The information boards are beautifully written too, striking a fine balance between informing and entertaining in a way museums rarely manage.

I work my way down the floors, starting with the history of the tyre – far less dull than it sounds – before taking in the iconic movie cars, gawping at the terrifyingly expensive classics in the aptly named Splendor and Speed exhibition, learning how the Waymo self-driving taxis that I’ve seen around the city work and losing my mind over a trio of very special V12-engined supercar concepts from the turn of the century.

There’s even a fascinating gallery on low-riders and the culture surrounding them. 

The bottom floor is known as The Vault. It’s a big underground car park filled with some of the most special cars in the world when they’re not on display upstairs. It costs a bit extra to enter, but you would end up kicking yourself if you missed it.

As beautifully laid out as the main museum is, The Vault almost manages to feel even more special. It’s as though you’re taking a peek into the inner sanctum, with the claustrophobic concrete ceiling making everything feel even closer together than it is.