In the sun-drenched hills of Los Angeles, where Hollywood’s elite often hide their extravagances behind high hedges and higher egos, Keanu Reeves and his longtime partner, artist Alexandra Grant, pulled off a move that turned their quiet neighborhood into an impromptu racetrack. On a balmy October afternoon – yes, that crisp fall light making everything glow like a scene from one of Reeves’ action flicks – the couple decided to air out their legendary collection of supercars. What started as a casual joyride morphed into a full-blown display of horsepower and heart, leaving locals gaping from their driveways.
Picture this: Reeves, the 61-year-old icon who’s dodged bullets in John Wick and philosophical bullets in The Matrix, emerges from his modest home – a far cry from the mansions of his peers – clad in his signature understated black leather jacket and jeans. Beside him, Grant, 52, the silver-haired visionary behind collaborations like their 2011 book Ode to Happiness and the shadowy Shadows series from 2016, radiates that effortless cool she’s brought to their decade-plus friendship-turned-romance. They met at a dinner party in 2009, bonding over art and words, but these days, their canvas extends to chrome and curves.
The garage doors swung open like a curtain call, revealing a fleet that could make Ferrari’s factory blush. Leading the pack: a sleek 2024 Lamborghini Revuelto hybrid, its scissor doors flipping up like bat wings, whispering promises of 1,000 horsepower. Parked next to it, Reeves’ beloved 1970 Norton Commando motorcycle – a nod to his ARCH Motorcycle company, co-founded in 2011 with Gard Hollinger, where they handcraft bespoke beasts for adrenaline junkies. But the stars of the show? A cherry-red Porsche 911 GT3 RS, its wide stance screaming track days, and a modified McLaren 720S, tuned for those canyon carve-outs that make LA’s Mulholland Drive legendary. Whispers among neighbors peg the collection’s value at over $5 million, a mix of vintage racers and cutting-edge hypercars that Reeves has quietly amassed over years of quiet passion rather than flashy flaunts.
As the sun climbed high, casting long shadows that echoed Grant’s photographic work, the couple didn’t just polish these metal marvels – they unleashed them. Reeves kicked things off with a low-rev rumble on the Norton, its throaty exhaust echoing off the canyon walls like a gentle roar. But the real gasp came when Grant slid into the driver’s seat of the GT3 RS. “Her racing skills have seriously leveled up,” one onlooker – a neighbor who’s seen the pair’s low-key life up close – confided later, eyes wide with awe.
Grant, no stranger to speed after joining Reeves at events like the German Grand Prix and Italy’s MotoGP circuit earlier this year, gripped the wheel with the same precision she applies to her mixed-media installations. She punched it down their private access road – a winding ribbon of asphalt hugging the property’s edge, doubling as a makeshift circuit – tires chirping as she powered through a hairpin turn, her laughter carrying on the wind.
It’s this blend of humility and horsepower that defines the couple. While Reeves has long been the everyman hero – subway-riding, book-gifting, grief-navigating – Grant grounds him with her artistic depth. She’s taught at universities, speaks three languages, and co-founded X Artists’ Books in 2017 with Reeves and designer Jessica Fleischmann, publishing works that blur lines between text and image. Their relationship, public since that iconic 2019 LACMA red carpet kiss, thrives on shared adventures: art openings in Berlin, motorcycle jaunts across Europe, and now, these spontaneous garage galas.
Yet, amid the revs, there’s a deeper gear. Neighbors, still buzzing from the spectacle, note how the couple’s outings – like this sunny showcase – feel less like showing off and more like reclaiming joy. Reeves, who’s endured unimaginable loss (his stillborn daughter in 1999, partner Jennifer Syme’s tragic death in 2001), has called Grant his “inspiration,” crediting her for infusing his world – and his art – with unfiltered happiness. As she downshifted back into the driveway, engine purring to a halt, Grant flashed a grin that said it all: love, like a well-tuned engine, only gets better with miles.
In a town obsessed with facades, Reeves and Grant remind us that the real speed demons are those who race toward authenticity. One can only wonder: what’s next for this power duo? A joint art-car exhibit? A cross-country rally? Whatever it is, we’ll be buckled in, cheering from the sidelines.
