Winnie-The-Manx
My wife retired me. I mean, I retired — but she retired me from the house. “Get out,” she said. “You’re driving me nuts.” No warm-up, no softening — that’s her. So, I went looking for trouble. Found it: a Kellison that had clearly lost a fight with a ravine. Bought it anyway, and when it was done, I had a supercharged buggy that was cool, stupid fast, and loud. My wife thought it was “interesting.” My wallet was in therapy.
Then I saw a Meyers Manx on Craigslist. I called my brother David, “Hey, there’s a body and pan on Craigslist we need to look at.” A shell: a VW frame, a Manx body, some old seats, and a set of original headlights still with it. The previous owner had done serious prep work but needed the garage space. He had the certificate and clean title. We weighed the risks and budget, but the paint and fiberglass smells did their work again. And there you go, I almost tore my britches getting my wallet out.
The part where I decided to grow up
Here’s the thing about hot rods: they demand a relationship. You have to know them — pump the pedal exactly right, sync the carbs, swap jets — all expected hot rod stuff. Wrestling the wheel through a parking lot like you’re trying to pin a bear. Great if you’re into that. I’d done that. Now I wanted a Manx anyone could drive that knew how to shift gears, that I could drive without feeling like I was negotiating with it. Key turns, engine runs, car goes. Revolutionary concept.
A buggy with manners. It was about building something that might get dusted off and driven for another 50 or 100 years. Why not? That became the whole spirit of the build. Winnie’s mantra. Every time I was tempted to cut a corner, I’d think: why not just do it right? I’ve got time. I’m still not allowed indoors until dark.
Research, rabbit holes, and a woman named Winnie
I caught the bug, and the deeper I went into the Manx world, the more I kept running into the name: Winnie Meyers. I got curious and asked club members about her. On recommendation, ordered her book, Why Not? I read it and set it down thinking: she’s peeps. I’m not going to get into specifics — that’s her story to tell — but she’s lived a real life, the kind most of us recognize, with wins and hard seasons and enough earned wisdom to share some of it. Then I learned that after Bruce passed, Winnie became the keeper of everything Manx, the most respected and beloved figure in the dune buggy community. Known as a bit of a character — humorous, musical, ever-present in all things Manx. That’s when this build started being a tribute. I reached out and asked if she’d be okay with her name on the car and a couple of quotes from her book. She said yes. Thank you, Winnie.
The budget… God rest its soul
One cool part led to another, and another. A drunken sailor on payday had nothing on me. You know you’ve lost the plot when you’re on chat about mirrors in the middle of the night. Eventually I made peace with my checkbook: This is too fun. Last one, I swear.
My brother was the filter on every high-end call. If he said no, I went back and looked again, and that saved me from myself more than once. Luckily his skillset ran deeper than most — beyond the body and paint work, David built the entire custom wiring loom by hand, weatherproof connectors throughout, the part of work that’s unseen but still deserves to be show-worthy.
Paint, seats, and the quiet stuff that matters
When it came time for color, Tamco had a brand-new pearl yellow. We saw it as an homage to the original Yuma (School Bus) color. They call it, fittingly, Sunsation Yellow. No argument. Some decisions make themselves. What I didn’t fully appreciate at the time was what it would take for David to get it there. His health had started to slip, and a couple of years take a lot out of a person. But he persisted — an hour here, an hour there, careful and deliberate work on his own timeline. Hours add up, and so does heart. The result is flawless, and I’m not sure I could’ve found anyone else in the world to do what he did on that car.
The old seats turned out to be the real things — original fiberglass buckets on old VW bases, restored the way they looked in 1966: boat inspired, marine vinyl, simple and period-correct. Sometimes the best move is to leave something alone. Under the body: a shortened 1972 VW Beetle IRS pan, Holley’s 1100 Sniper TBI on the proven 1600 platform. Power steering and a tilt column because I’m not twenty-five. Civil buggy. Checklist complete.
The point
I’ve never met Winnie. I’d like to someday. I know she’ll respect the build, but the kid in me hopes she will like it.
What I didn’t expect when my wife pushed me out the door was that I needed a project with a point. The Manx gave me that. Winnie’s story gave me direction. David gave it his hands and his time when he didn’t have a lot of either to spare. The first time I turned the key and it fired right up, I sat there and just let it run, thinking about my wife driving it to the country club, so I can sneak into the house for a daytime nap.
A note to Mrs. Manx: Thanks for all you bring to the buggy community, you are appreciated!
Originally published in Manx Mania, the magazine of the Manx Club — Summer 2026, pages 16–17.
As it ran in print
Manx Mania, Summer 2026 — click any page to view it full size.
