Specialty File
Ask Bruce Meyers how he came up with the shape that would become the Manx and later the Manxter 2+2, and he replies, "I never went to a school that teaches how to design cars, so I didn't know enough to be constrained as a car designer would."
There's a modesty here that doesn't do justice to the finished product. In person, the Manxter looks terrific. It's cute enough to hug, but it's not feminine. The proportions are nearly perfect, and the sturdy-looking cage that forms the upper structure has a graceful line to it.
A big difference between the Manx and Manxter are the wheelbases. The Manxter's is the same as a VW Beetle's — 94.5 inches, 14.5 more than the Manx's. There's room for four seats; we fit nicely into all of them.
The basic kit, which continues to be bolted onto a VW Beetle floorpan, costs $5395. There are 70 parts, but that doesn't include seats, seatbelts, powertrain, or floorpan. Beetle bits are fairly cheap, however. If you're thrifty, use the maximum number of Beetle stuff possible, and you can probably have a running Manxter 2+2 for about $15,000. Assembly time varies with skill level; a novice will spend many evenings in the garage.
If cost is not oppressive, it's easy to run up the tab. The red Manxter we tested is a rolling prototype, and some of its parts have not yet been priced, but Meyers estimates the total would be about $35,000.
A large chunk of that money — $8800 — went to the engine compartment. Bolted to the Beetle transmission is a turbocharged Subaru flat-four lifted from an Impreza WRX STI. Some modifications have been made to make it more durable. For example, the intercooler was removed and the boost level lowered to about 5 psi. As such, the engine produces roughly 250 horsepower, 50 less than the standard STI output.
In the 1824-pound Manxter, that's plenty. It roars to 60 mph in only 4.2 seconds, which is about as quick as any four-seater you can buy for less than 50 grand. The Manxter's aerodynamics, however, must be appalling, because the acceleration takes a nose dive once you clear 100 mph. That figure arrives in 11.6 seconds, but it takes 20.7 to reach 110.
We've driven original Manxes, and the idea of going 100 mph in one of them is a terrifying prospect. But the Manxter is a different animal, and it's clearly more than just a stretched Manx. It's stable and quite rigid, due to the weblike overhead steel cage that's bolted to the body in six places. Even wind buffeting isn't too bad.
Despite the old hardware, the Manxter is nimble yet has a ride as compliant as a Jaguar's. The only limit to handling involves the ancient Beetle suspension. It pulled only 0.85 g on the skidpad despite having large, grippy BFGoodrich tires. A peek at the cornering photo reveals why: The top of the outer front wheel tilts away from the vehicle, so only the outer part of the tread is in contact with the road.
That problem can be fixed. We'd also ditch the vague Beetle steering. Making modifications is part of the fun of a kit, though, and the aftermarket is filled with VW Beetle parts. Think of the Manxter as a terrific palette, and you have the idea.
For kicks, we also took a spin in a silver Manxter DualSport. Its tub is three inches taller, and it's meant to provide room for a long-travel suspension. When he was 76, Meyers raced one in the 2002 Baja 1000, although the engine blew after 130 miles. It's still street legal, but it's an animal in the dirt, soaking up ditches and mounds that we thought were going to hurt. Perched on its tall suspension and tires, it looks a little like a water bug, but it was as much fun as we've ever experienced on four wheels.
That's the idea behind the Manxter — fun. It can do almost anything the builder wants — tear up asphalt, clear dirt jumps, or some combination of the two. Maybe it won't create the craze it did 40 years ago, but it's still what Meyers always wanted — a vehicle that can take you wherever you want to go.
Meyers Manx, P.O. Box 1491, Valley Center, California 92082; 760-749-6321; www.meyersmanx.com.
