“If you do research on the Internet, they all say there was a glowing red light coming from the center of the thing. So I tried to reproduce that,” Borek explained, without saying who “they” are.
Borek received some interesting looks from the community surrounding the spaceships’ placement—a gated community. The saucer has landed at Borek’s swank home in the Preserve at Barton Creek, off Texas 71 out past the “Y” in Oak Hill, where you can find real estate listings ranging from $650,000 to $950,000.
So do the neighbors like this “Star Wars” piece? “Some probably like it. Some of em don’t say much,” Borek said. But he figures, what the heck, the neighbors have their Halloween decorations. So why shouldn’t he?
“They’ve got goblins, and that guy’s got a guy hanging (in a tree) over there, so why can’t I have a spaceship?” he asked. Indeed.
The middle section of the spaceship consists of about 2½ gallons of Bondo. Of course it does; Borek runs a body shop. Then there’s the rubber alien with large eyes and scaly body, perched on a garden rock wall in the yard.
“I ordered it online,” Borek said. “That thing was about 200 bucks. He’s about 3 feet tall. I actually had him a couple years ago. We named him Alex. I used to put him in the car around Halloween and drive around with him. I put the seat belt on him, and people at red lights would look.”
Some wise guy snuck up onto Borek’s yard and put a Texas Rangers hat on him, along with a yellow LiveStrong wristband.
The two warning signs posted by the yellow crash scene tape are the same as those you’d find at Area 51, Borek said, speaking of the top-secret stretch of Nevada land where true believers are sure the U.S. government is involved in clandestine intergalactic business. “While on this property all personnel are subject to search,” the signs say.
“Believe it or not, I got them from a guy who said he worked in flying saucers for the government in the 1980s,” Borek said. “He now owns an electronics company.”