Bruce, Winnie & a Little Car.
The Bruce Meyers, Manx story is voluminous. For the best of it, read his books, "Birth of a Smile" and "Call To Baja".
Before she was “Winnie-The-Manx,” she was just one of Bruce Meyers’ many hand-laid fiberglass bodies in Newport Beach — a light, playful answer to the heavy Detroit iron of the day. What set the original Manx apart wasn’t just the look; it was the attitude. Home-built, beach-born, and meant to be driven with a grin.
Years later, after the lawsuits, copies, and long quiet stretches, Bruce found his way back to the buggy world — and Winnie was there at his side. As a writer, singer, host, and never-shy storyteller, she helped give the Manx community its warmth and its voice.
This site, and this car, are a small thank-you to that legacy. To the sculptor who shaped the first Manx, and to the woman who helped bring him — and the buggy world — back to life.
From Newport to Now
Why no hood emblem? Early pre-tag Meyers Manx buggies were delivered with no hood ornament, badge, or emblem of any kind. Bruce Meyers intentionally kept the nose clean and unadorned, relying on the sculpted fiberglass form itself rather than chrome or cast branding.
An Editorial From the Shop: Old Fiberglass, New Attitude
A shop note on why vintage still wins—especially when you update it right.
Let me start with this: the new Manx is a beautiful machine.Clean lines, fresh gelcoat, modern build quality—turn-key, swipe-the-card, show-up-ready-to-flex. If that’s your lane, I get it.
The most basic new Manx can creep north of $70,000 before taxes, fees, and paperwork creatures even wake up. And depreciate, if that’s what you want.
There’s another way to do it—the Bruce-and-friends way: build with skilled hands, rotisserie restoration of a classic with increasing value.
The fiberglass has history soaked into it. Parts came one by one: somebody’s garage, somebody’s shelves, somebody’s “saving it for the right build” pile.
Add modern reliability, and much more fun.
Me? I like building something that looks straight out of the golden era, but behaves like it belongs in this century:
- Fuel injection — because I prefer turning a key over negotiating with a carburetor with an attitude.
- Electronic ignition — I miss points, but I don’t miss the drama.
- Power steering (where it makes sense) — “authentic” is great, but so is palming the wheel instead of wrestling an alligator in rough terrain.
- Modern reliability — because breaking down is only romantic in movies… and even then, only below 90 degrees.
So yeah—the new Manx is nice, this is a different kind of nice.
This is a hat-tip to Bruce and Winnie’s spirit: American tinkering. The garage-built dream. No permission required— just time, skills, and the right parts (and yeah, it’s a chore).