Route of Longing: 5 Auto Parts Stores That Only Exist in Kennedy

Kennedy: Bogotá's giant workshop where impossible parts do exist

If you're one of those people who drives along Avenida Américas at 7 in the morning, you already know that between Calle 13 and Boyacá, the traffic of tractor-trailers is a daily postcard. But what many don't see, hidden among warehouses and body shops, is an auto parts ecosystem that has no comparison, not even with downtown. In August 2026, while digital platforms dominate the sale of generic auto parts, in Kennedy you can still find the Italian carburetor that no one imports, the tractor tire that is no longer manufactured, or the 70s radio that sounds like the first day.

I grew up in the neighborhood and I swear I'm not exaggerating: there are parts that only exist here because the owners of these stores have been saving boxes for 40 years that no one else wanted to buy. It's not a pretty mall or a gourmet area. It's a territory of mechanics with nails black from grease, of guard dogs that know the sound of every engine, and of old men who tell you the story of a piston as if it were the story of a son. This is the route of longing: five stores that are temples for those seeking the impossible.

The industrial corridor that no one visits as a tourist

The locality of Kennedy is the most populated in Bogotá, with over a million inhabitants, and its industrial backbone is Avenida Américas, which is born downtown and stretches to the west. But the heart of auto parts is in the transversal that connects Calle 13 with Avenida 68, a triangle of warehouses, tire shops, and scrap metal depots that locals call "the auto parts corridor." Here there are no glass display windows or salespeople in ties. There are metal gates raised since 6 in the morning and the smell of burnt oil that sticks to your clothes.

To understand the mental map of this place, you have to think of three axes: the first is Avenida Américas, where the largest stores are and those that handle volume parts for cargo vehicles. The second is Calle 13, a historic road heading west of the country, where workshops specialized in diesel engines and heavy machinery are concentrated. The third is the Marsella neighborhood, a residential area that gradually became warehouse after warehouse, and where the hidden gems are: single-owner stores, with yellowed paper catalogs and shelves that reach the ceiling.

The key to getting around here is not being in a hurry. Owners don't respond to WhatsApp messages quickly, but if you arrive with a part in hand or a photo on your cell phone, a world of possibilities opens up. Many are open Monday through Saturday, but Saturday is the mechanic's holy day: from 8 in the morning until 1 in the afternoon, the streets fill with old cars, beat-up motorcycles, and guys coming from Suba or Usme looking for that part they can only find here.

What to do: the route of the five legendary stores

Not all auto parts stores in Kennedy are worth the trip. Most sell the same thing as any auto parts store in the north: filters, bearings, and generic brake pads. But there are five that are different. Five that have something you can't find anywhere else. Five that should be in a museum, but keep operating because Bogotá's mechanics need them. This is the route, in order of proximity, so you don't get lost.

1. Carburadores del Viejo Continente (Avenida Américas with Carrera 69)

In a 6-meter-wide storefront, with no flashy sign, don Álvaro Rincón has been selling carburetors for 38 years. But not just any carburetor: he only works with Italian and German brands from the 60s, 70s, and 80s. Weber, Dell'Orto, Solex. If you have a Fiat 600, a Renault 4, or a Volkswagen Beetle, this is the only place in Bogotá where you'll find the original carburetor body, not the Chinese replica that breaks after three months.

Don Álvaro says he started in 1988 taking apart carburetors on his kitchen table, in the Timiza neighborhood. "I didn't study mechanics, I studied necessity," he says with a smile that wrinkles his eyes. His specialty is rebuilding: you bring him the damaged carburetor and he leaves it like new, with parts he makes himself on a lathe he has in the back of the shop. Prices range from $180,000 COP for a basic rebuild to $700,000 COP for a complete original Weber carburetor, depending on the model. He's open Monday to Friday from 8am to 6pm and Saturdays from 8am to 2pm.

The fun fact: don Álvaro keeps in a glass display case a Dell'Orto carburetor that belonged to a racing Lancia Fulvia that ran at the Tocancipá circuit in the 70s. He doesn't sell it, nor does he lend it. He only shows it to those who arrive with respect. "That part has history, it's not negotiable," he says.

2. Ruedas del Agro (Calle 13 with Carrera 68B)

If you work in the countryside or have an old tractor, this is your mandatory stop. Ruedas del Agro is a huge warehouse, about 800 square meters, where tractor tires of every imaginable size are stacked: from small tiller tires to giant John Deere combine harvester tires. The owner, Óscar Peñaloza, is a 62-year-old man from a family of farmers in Valle del Cauca who understands that a tire is not an accessory: it's the difference between harvesting on time or losing the season.

What makes this store unique is not just the inventory, but the mobile mounting service. Óscar has two trucks with cranes that go to farms in Cundinamarca, Tolima, and even the Llanos Orientales. "Last year we mounted a tire on a farm in Puerto Gaitán, 4 hours from Villavicencio. Nobody else does that," he says proudly. Tractor tire prices start at $1,200,000 COP for the smallest ones and can exceed $8,000,000 COP for large combine harvester tires. But beware: prices are a reference from August 2026, and rubber has gone up a lot, so it's always better to call ahead.

The fun fact: in the back of the warehouse there's a tire from a Soviet Belarus tractor that arrived in Colombia in the 80s as part of a batch purchased by the government. Nobody knows how it ended up in Kennedy, but Óscar keeps it "in case the owner ever shows up."

3. Sonido Retro (Carrera 71 with Calle 3)

This is paradise for classic car collectors and for those who want to bring a car inherited from their grandfather back to life. Sonido Retro is a small store, about 40 square meters, that seems frozen in 1975. On its shelves are radios from the 60s and 70s, speakers from the progressive rock era, roof antennas, classic horn buttons, and even bullet-shaped rearview mirrors that you only see in racing movies.

The owner, doña Lucía Morales, 71, started the business with her husband, who was an electronics technician and repaired radios in their living room. When he passed away in 2005, she decided to keep the shop going. "My husband used to say that a car without a radio isn't a car, it's a tin can with wheels," she recalls with a laugh. Doña Lucía doesn't just sell: she also repairs. If you bring her a 1972 Philips radio that won't turn on, she opens it, changes the capacitors, and leaves it sounding like new. The repair service costs between $80,000 and $250,000 COP, depending on the complexity.

The fun fact: doña Lucía has a personal collection of 50s radios that she doesn't sell, but displays in a showcase. The most valuable is a 1954 Motorola radio that belonged to a taxi from the Tequendama company, one of the first in Bogotá. "That radio has more history than many museums," she says.

4. Motores del Sur (Avenida Américas with Carrera 65)

For lovers of classic motorcycles, Motores del Sur is a mandatory stop. This store, which occupies a two-story location, specializes in parts for Japanese motorcycles from the 70s, 80s, and 90s: Yamaha, Suzuki, Honda, and Kawasaki. If you have a Yamaha RX 100, a Suzuki AX 100, or a Honda CB 125, here you'll find pistons, cylinders, chains, sprockets, and even the original speedometer cable.

The owner, Jairo Cárdenas, 55, is a former racing motorcycle mechanic who knows each model like the back of his hand. "I don't need a catalog, I know which part fits each motorcycle just by looking at the chassis," he says. His inventory is impressive: more than 5,000 references in stock, organized by brand and year. Prices vary, but an original piston for an RX 100 can cost around $120,000 COP, while a complete cylinder for a CB 125 is around $350,000 COP. It's recommended to verify prices directly, because the motorcycle parts market is very volatile.

The fun fact: Jairo has in his workshop a 1989 Suzuki GSX-R 750 that he's restoring piece by piece. "It's a personal project, I want to leave it as it came out of the factory," he says. When he finishes it, he's going to display it in the store's showcase, next to the starting motorcycle from a race he won in 1992 at the Tocancipá racetrack.

5. El Almacén del Viejo (Carrera 72 with Calle 3)

This is the hardest store to find, and also the most special. El Almacén del Viejo has no sign, no website, and doesn't appear on Google Maps. You get there by recommendation from another mechanic or because a friend of a friend gave you the address. It's a two-story building in an old house in the Marsella neighborhood, where don Pedro Guerrero, 78, keeps what he calls "things that someday someone will need."

And he's right. Here you can find parts that aren't in any catalog: engine mounts for a 1970 Dodge Dart, head gaskets for a 1965 Ford Mustang, water pumps for a Chevrolet Nova, and even a complete dashboard for a Renault 12. Don Pedro has no inventory system: everything is in his head. You describe the part and he walks among the shelves, mutters, checks a box, puts it down, looks in another, and finally appears with the exact part, covered in dust, as if he had been waiting for it.

Prices are negotiable, but don Pedro doesn't give anything away. "I know what I have and I know what it's worth. If you don't want to pay, there's someone else who will," he says with a frankness that disarms you. He's open Monday through Saturday, but only until 4 in the afternoon, because "after that hour, my eyesight can't take it anymore." The fun fact: don Pedro has a black-covered notebook where he's written down since 1985 every part he sells and to whom. "That notebook is my memory and my history," he says. And he's right: there are the names of mechanics who have already died, of cars that no longer exist, and of parts that saved lives on the road.