Genesis Unveils the Magma GT: A V8-Powered Supercar Redefining Performance

Effortless Velocity - When a brand long celebrated for refined luxury enters the high-octane world of supercars, it immediately draws attention. Genesis, known for its elegant and serene sedans, made a bold statement with the Magma GT Concept—a car that signals the company’s future in high-performance vehicles. As Genesis’ first true sports car, it represents a daring leap into the luxury performance segment while staying true to the brand’s philosophy of balance and refinement. 

The Genesis Magma GT, as the company’ first true sports car, it represents a daring leap into the luxury performance segment while staying true to the brand’s philosophy of balance and refinement. (Picture from: TopGear)

The Magma GT Concept prioritizes connection and composure over raw aggression. Genesis calls this philosophy “Effortless Performance,” delivering V8 power smoothly, predictably, and elegantly. Rather than testing the driver, it enhances skill, making every turn and acceleration feel controlled and natural. This approach positions the Magma GT as a halo model that will guide Genesis’ performance identity for the next decade. | ipOONWEtIA8 |

Its exterior is a deliberate blend of function and style. The low hood and long, sloping roofline create an aerodynamic, aggressive silhouette, while wide rear fenders and a tapering, boat-tailed cabin reinforce its planted stance. Subtle canards integrated into the headlights and the G-Matrix front pattern provide both aerodynamic efficiency and visual distinction. At the rear, two-line mechanical taillights highlight a wide, athletic stance, merging racing intent with Genesis’ signature luxury refinement. 

The Genesis Magma GT presents a deliberate fusion of function and style, defined by a low hood and a long, sloping roofline that create an aerodynamic and assertive silhouette. (Picture from: TopGear)

Beneath its sculpted body lies serious performance ambition. The mid-rear engine layout signals readiness for GT racing, elevating Genesis from luxury comfort to motorsport territory. Unveiled at Hyundai Motor Company Investor Day in New York alongside the GMR-001 hypercar for Le Mans, and then whipped the covers off the production-spec GV60 Magma. The Magma GT stands as both a showcase of design and a blueprint for the brand’s high-performance future.  

The Genesis Magma GT Concept features wide rear fenders and a tapering, boat-tailed cabin that visually lower the car, reinforcing its planted stance and high-speed stability. (Picture from: TopGear)

Genesis is redefining itself, bringing speed, handling, and racing pedigree into harmony with sophistication. The Magma GT embodies a rare duality: thrilling yet refined, powerful yet poised. It represents a vision for the next decade where high-performance vehicles do not sacrifice elegance for speed, reflecting modern automotive ambitions and Genesis’ commitment to innovation.

The Genesis Magma GT Concept also points toward the Magma Roadster, which is being prepared as one of several supercar variants when the model enters production in the coming years. (Picture from: Autocar)

The Magma GT will expand into a full lineup of variants, including a drop-top and a hardcore GT3 road car. While GT3 homologation rules require only 250 road-legal units, Genesis plans a larger production run. Creative director Luc Donckerwolke confirmed that the version unveiled is just the “base model,” with S, GTS, roadster, lightweight, club sport, GT3 road car, and GT3 R track variants planned, offering customers diverse combinations of performance and luxury. 

The Genesis Magma GT Concept is further illustrated by a Magma GT3 rendering created by Autocar, offering a glimpse of a potential track-focused variant. (Picture from: Autocar)

While the concept features a V8 engine, the final production powertrain is yet to be decided, influenced by customer demand and GT3 requirements. Donckerwolke emphasized that while the lineup may draw comparisons to the Porsche 911, it is not a direct rival. With unique design, engineering, and Genesis’ signature refinement, the Magma GT family will carve its own identity in the supercar world—a confident and composed vision of performance for the modern era. *** [EKA | FROM VARIOUS SOURCES | TOPGEAR | AUTOCAR ]

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The Troll 700 Sportscoupe: Norway’s Ambitious Answer to the Porsche

Nordic Daring - Long before today’s carmakers began experimenting boldly with lightweight materials and alternative engineering ideas, a small group tucked away in the forests of Telemark tried to rewrite what a Scandinavian sports car could be. It was a time when Europe was rebuilding its confidence as much as its infrastructure, and when every new invention seemed to carry the hope of something larger. Against this shifting backdrop, an unconventional white coupé rolled out of a modest Norwegian workshop, carrying ambitions far greater than its small footprint suggested. This was the Troll 700 Sportscoupe—often described, half in admiration and half in curiosity, as “the Norwegian Porsche”—a machine that embodied both the daring and the fragility of innovation in the late 1950s. 

The 1957 Troll 700 Sportscoupé—long viewed with equal parts admiration and curiosity as “the Norwegian Porsche”—captured the bold ambition and delicate uncertainty that defined automotive innovation in the late 1950s. (Picture from: ViaRetro)

The idea sprang from the mind of Per Kohl-Larsen, a man who had made his fortune not in engineering but in the coffee trade in Africa. Prosperity gave him freedom, and freedom, in his case, fueled a desire to transform Norway from a country that imported cars into one that created them. The company he founded, bearing the literal and slightly eccentric name “Plastik & Bilindustri,” reflected both his practicality and his sense of experimentation. Working alongside two engineers—Germany’s Bruno Falck and Norway’s own Erling Fjugstad—he set out to build a coupé that would stand apart not through brute force or extravagance, but through modern materials, smart engineering, and the optimism of an industry entering a new era. 

The Troll 700 Sportscoupé emerged from Plastik & Bilindustri’s brief 1957–1958 venture, developed in close collaboration with German engineer Bruno Falck and Norwegian engineer Erling Fjugstad. (Picture from: Automovelantigo in Facebook)

Fiberglass became the signature of their approach. At a time when steel still dominated production lines but manufacturers worldwide were eyeing new composites, the Troll’s lightweight body was both forward-thinking and economically strategic. Keeping the car under 700 kilograms wasn’t just an engineering brag—it meant agility, lower production costs, and the possibility of scaling manufacturing even as the continent was still recovering from wartime scarcity. Chevrolet’s Corvette had already showcased fiberglass overseas, but in Europe the trend was far from mainstream. Most fiberglass-bodied attempts were hobbyist kits built atop aging mechanical foundations. Kohl-Larsen intended the exact opposite: a modern, mass-producible vehicle that demonstrated Norway’s ability to think—and build—fresh. 

The Troll 700 Sportscoupé ultimately existed in only five examples—tangible reminders of what the project could have become—while leaving Kohl-Larsen and his family facing severe financial ruin. (Picture from: ViaRetro)

The mechanical heart of the Troll came from a perhaps unlikely source: the remains of a bankrupt German manufacturer. Gutbrod-Werke, despite closing its doors, left behind a remarkable piece of engineering—a 700cc two-stroke, two-cylinder engine equipped with Bosch fuel injection. For the period, this setup was surprisingly advanced, even a little futuristic, and perfectly in tune with the Troll team’s belief in new technology. Yet for all its sophistication, it eked out only 26 horsepower, and its injection system soon proved temperamental. The team briefly considered replacing it with SAAB’s three-cylinder two-stroke powerplant, a solution just across the border, but the plan never evolved beyond internal discussions. 

The 1957 Troll 700 Sportscoupé showcased a fiberglass-first approach at a moment when steel still dominated, giving its lightweight body a modern and cost-efficient edge. (Picture from: En.TerjeBjornStad)

Still, the Troll’s creators worked resourcefully with what they had. They purchased Gutbrod’s Superior chassis to pair with the fiberglass body, even when the dimensions didn’t match. Instead of redesigning the entire structure, they simply extended the body by fifteen centimeters—an adjustment that unexpectedly added a small rear seat. It was a practical compromise wrapped in quiet ingenuity, a hallmark of the entire project. By the time they presented the first fully realized car to the press in October 1956, the Troll 700 Sportscoupe had taken on a personality of its own: compact yet expressive, simple yet strangely elegant, shaped by curved fiberglass panels that gave it a lightness familiar to sports cars but uncommon among those from the north. 

The 1957 Troll 700 Sportscoupé relied on an unexpectedly sourced mechanical heart—a 700cc two-stroke, two-cylinder engine with Bosch fuel injection salvaged from the bankrupt German manufacturer Gutbrod-Werke. (Picture from: En.TerjeBjornStad)

On May 1, 1957, the first customer took delivery of a Troll, and for a moment, it looked as though the dream of a Norwegian car industry might actually ignite. But dreams, especially industrial ones, collide not just with engineering challenges but with politics. To begin mass production, “Plastik & Bilindustri” needed formal approval from the Norwegian government—approval that never came. Behind the scenes, the issue had little to do with the car’s technical merits and everything to do with international trade. Norway was exporting enormous quantities of fish meal and fish products to the Eastern Bloc, and in exchange, importing cars from those same nations. Allowing domestic automobile production to expand risked upsetting that delicate balance. In a twist almost too bureaucratic to seem real, the Troll’s success threatened to jeopardize national economics tied to fish. And so the government hesitated, stalled, and ultimately withheld the essential authorization. 

The Troll 700 Sportscoupé reveals its smooth, sculpted lines and compact stance, capturing the car’s uniquely Norwegian blend of minimalist design and unconventional charm. (Picture from: ViaRetro)

The delay proved fatal. Without the green light to scale production, the company had no income, no investors willing to take on prolonged uncertainty, and no safety net. By 1958, the workshop fell silent. Only five Troll Sportscoupes had been built—five physical proofs of what might have been—and the financial fallout was devastating for Kohl-Larsen and his family. What remained was not a thriving industry but a story: a small, determined attempt to carve space for Norwegian creativity in the global automotive landscape, overshadowed by geopolitics and the unforgiving realities of manufacturing. 

The Troll 700 Sportscoupé displays its distinctive teardrop-shaped rear and expansive wraparound window, highlighting the quirky aerodynamic vision behind Norway’s rare fiberglass experiment. (Picture from: En.TerjeBjornStad)

Today, the Troll 700 Sportscoupe lives on mostly in quiet admiration among enthusiasts and historians who appreciate the boldness behind its existence. It represents a moment when a handful of innovators believed Norway could produce more than raw materials and seafood exports, when fiberglass bodies and unconventional engines felt like the keys to a new path forward. More than its horsepower or production numbers, the car symbolizes the thrill and vulnerability of trying something new in a world not yet ready to support it. And it invites the lingering, almost playful question: if the political winds had blown differently, would Scandinavia’s most iconic sports car today be wearing a very different badge? *** [EKA | FROM VARIOUS SOURCES | VIARETRO | EN.TERJEBJORNSTAD | AUTOMOVELANTIGO IN FACEBOOK ]

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The Sparks 'Pegasus' Cabriolet: When American Muscle Met Neo-Classic Style

Velvet Thunder - There’s something magical about cars that dare to be different — vehicles that break away from convention, not because they have to, but because someone believed they could. The late 1980s was a decade bursting with individuality, where design was bold, and engineers weren’t afraid to mix nostalgia with modern flair. Among the handful of creators who thrived in that creative tension stood Ron Sparks — a man whose imagination refused to fit inside the box of mass production. From his workshop in San Marcos, California, Sparks dreamed up a machine that embodied both elegance and eccentricity: the Sparks Pegasus Cabriolet. 

The Sparks Pegasus Cabriolet emerged from a vision to fuse American muscle with the romantic spirit of a European grand tourer, brought to life by Intercontinental Carriage, Inc. (Picture from: WorldCarsFromThe1930sTo1980s in Facebook)

Born from a desire to merge American muscle with the romantic flair of a European grand tourer, the Pegasus Cabriolet was a rare creation, crafted under the banner of Intercontinental Carriage, Inc. Its design took cues from Sparks’ earlier ventures — the Sparks Turbo Phaeton and the Sparks II Roadster — cars that flirted with neo-classic design in the late 1970s and early ’80s. But the Pegasus Cabriolet wasn’t just a revival of those ideas; it was a transformation. Built between 1989 and 1993, it represented one of the most obscure yet fascinating reinterpretations of the Ford Mustang platform, specifically the Fox Body Mustang — a staple of American automotive culture at the time. 

The Sparks Pegasus Cabriolet borrowed cues from Sparks’ earlier neo-classic models but reshaped them into a distinctly new creation. (Picture from: ClassicCars)

Under its sculpted hood sat a 5.0-liter V8 engine, the same heart that powered Ford’s own performance cars of the era. It produced 225 horsepower — more than enough to make the Pegasus roar down the open highway with authority. The power could be channeled through either a five-speed manual transmission for purists or an automatic overdrive for those who preferred their drive effortless. Beneath its striking exterior, the car carried a Ford LTD chassis, a solid foundation that offered both strength and adaptability. Sparks’ engineering approach was inventive — a blend of existing Ford components fused with custom craftsmanship. 

The Sparks Pegasus Cabriolet gained its distinctive visual character through Alain Clenet’s artistic touch, which refined Sparks’ mechanical vision with the elegance it deserved. (Picture from: Aiden Jewell in Flickr)

What made the Pegasus Cabriolet truly captivating, however, was its design language. The vehicle wore its personality openly: a mix of retro romance and futuristic bravado. Its sweeping lines and wide fenders exuded the confidence of classic luxury cars, while details like the real wire wheels and wide whitewall tires paid homage to the golden era of motoring. The use of iron and plastic body panels gave it structure and style, while the doors — borrowed intriguingly from the Volkswagen Cabriolet — added an unexpected European twist. Inside, the car continued its balancing act between opulence and practicality. White leather seats, power accessories, a convertible top, and a stereo with a CD player (a luxury touch for the time) gave it the comfort of a grand cruiser, yet it still held the soul of a performance-oriented Mustang beneath its tailored suit.

The Sparks Pegasus Cabriolet showcased a confident mix of retro charm and modern flair with sweeping lines, wide fenders, wire wheels, whitewall tires, mixed metal-and-plastic panels, and Volkswagen Cabriolet doors that lent it a subtle European twist. (Picture from: WorldCarsFromThe1930sTo1980s in Facebook)

Only three examples of the Sparks Cabriolet were ever built, and that exclusivity makes it as much a piece of art as it is a car. One of these was Ron Sparks’ personal vehicle — a testament to how deeply personal the project was to its creator. Sparks Motorworks, the division responsible for its construction, treated each build like a handcrafted masterpiece rather than a product. It wasn’t about mass appeal; it was about passion, design, and the joy of making something unique in a world that often prizes repetition. 

The Sparks Pegasus Cabriolet combined white leather seating, power features, a convertible top, and a then-premium CD stereo to deliver grand-cruiser comfort while retaining the spirit of a performance-driven Mustang beneath its refined exterior. (Picture from: ClassicCars)

Behind the design was another familiar name for aficionados of custom automobiles: Alain Clenet. Known for his artistic approach to vehicle styling, Clenet brought his distinct aesthetic sensibility to the Pegasus, enhancing Sparks’ mechanical vision with the visual grace it deserved. Together, Sparks and Clenet created something that bridged continents — a car born in California but infused with the spirit of European coachbuilding. 

The Sparks Pegasus Cabriolet carried a 5.0-liter V8 producing 225 horsepower— the same powerhouse found in Ford’s performance cars of its era—giving it the authority to roar down the open highway. (Picture from: ClassicCars)

Today, the Sparks Pegasus Cabriolet feels almost mythical. In an age dominated by high-tech electric vehicles and algorithm-driven design, it stands as a reminder of a more romantic automotive era — one when individuality and craftsmanship were enough to make a car legendary. It may not have been produced in great numbers, nor did it chase mainstream success, but that was never the point. Its rarity is its essence; its existence, a whisper of a time when builders poured their identity into metal and chrome.

The Sparks Pegasus Cabriolet blended Sparks’ mechanical vision with Alain Clenet’s refined aesthetic touch, resulting in a California-built car infused with the spirit of European coachbuilding. (Picture from: WorldCarsFromThe1930sTo1980s in Facebook)

Every once in a while, a car comes along that doesn’t just transport people — it transports ideas, emotions, and memories of what driving used to mean. The Sparks Pegasus Cabriolet is one of those cars. It’s less a machine and more a signature — Ron Sparks’ signature — written in steel, leather, and horsepower. *** [EKA | FROM VARIOUS SOURCES | AIDEN JEWELL IN FLICKR | CLASSICCARS | DRIVE2.RU | WORLD CARS FROM THE 1930S TO 1980S IN FACEBOOK | PINTEREST ]

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Fiat 1400 Boano Junior: Ghia’s Jet-Age Masterpiece

Jetcrafted Elegance - In a world where automotive design often feels like a predictable cycle of reinvention, it’s refreshing to look back at a moment in history when creativity seemed to break free from every known boundary. The early 1950s were exactly that kind of moment. Jet-age aesthetics were sweeping through industrial design, optimism was high, and carmakers were experimenting with shapes that hinted at speed, innovation, and a new era of mobility. It was within this vibrant cultural backdrop that the Fiat 1400 Boano Junior emerged—an unusual, elegant, and remarkably modern expression of post-war imagination.

The 1952 Fiat 1400 Boano Junior by Ghia emerged as an unusual, elegant, and remarkably modern expression of post-war imagination. (Picture from: WorldCarsFromThe1930sTo1980s in Facebook)

Although the standard Fiat 1400 had already made its debut as Fiat’s first entirely new post-war model in 1950, the version shaped by the hands of Ghia and the young designer Gianpaolo Boano took the familiar chassis and turned it into something much more daring. The original Fiat 1400 itself was a milestone for the brand: a fresh unibody design, technically up-to-date and ready to represent Italy’s renewed automotive landscape. Yet, the country’s famed coachbuilders were still eager to reinterpret mass-produced engineering through their own artistic lenses, and Ghia—already respected for its work with Alfa Romeo, Lancia, Ford, and Fiat—saw the potential for something extraordinary. Although its bodywork was uniquely crafted, the Boano Junior remained mechanically faithful to the Fiat 1400 it was built upon, most likely carrying the model’s familiar 1.4-liter inline-four engine—a dependable powerplant that preserved the engineering character beneath its bespoke exterior.

The 1952 Fiat 1400 Boano Junior by Ghia makes a striking appearance at the 1952 Concorso d’Eleganza Roma Pincio, surrounded by couture elegance and an enthralled crowd. (Picture from: Carrozzieri-Italiani)

Gianpaolo Boano, son of Ghia’s director Felice Boano, stepped into this opportunity with a concept that fused Italian elegance with the bold spirit of American car culture. At a time when fins, chrome, and aviation-inspired forms dominated the imagination of designers worldwide, his vision fit perfectly. The resulting coupé took on a sweeping two-tone scheme and a shining chromed nose that immediately set it apart. The clean, flowing silhouette was balanced by prominent rear fins, a nod to the era’s fascination with aircraft technology. Even from a contemporary perspective, the design carries a sense of optimism and movement—as if it were drawn to capture both stability and lift.

The 1952 Fiat 1400 Boano Junior by Ghia poered by a 1.4-liter inline-four engine—a dependable powerplant that preserved the engineering character beneath its bespoke exterior. (Picture from:OnlyCarsAndCars)

Though the exterior steals much of the attention, the overall character of the Boano Junior goes deeper. Built on the dependable Fiat 1400 chassis, the car combined solid engineering with expressive coachwork. The name itself—“Boano Junior”—quietly honors Gianpaolo’s contribution, with the “B” signaling his family lineage and the Junior designation pointing to his role as the next generation of creativity at Ghia. The two examples constructed differed slightly from one another, and one was even mounted on the more powerful Fiat 1900 chassis, giving it enhanced capability beneath its polished surface. Regardless of configuration, each car reflected Ghia’s commitment to craftsmanship: carefully sculpted lines, thoughtfully executed details, and a harmonious presence that hinted at luxury without overwhelming it.

The 1952 Fiat 1400 Boano Junior by Ghia emerged with a sweeping two-tone body, a gleaming chromed nose, and clean lines that flowed into prominent aircraft-inspired rear fins. (Picture from: WorldCarsFromThe1930sTo1980s in Facebook)

What makes the Boano Junior even more intriguing today is its astonishing rarity. Only two units were ever produced, each handmade and subtly distinct. Their bodies were crafted in Turin, while assembly took place in Maranello—a collaboration that bridged Italian design hubs at a time when the country was reasserting itself as an automotive powerhouse. The styling, so rooted in American influence yet unmistakably Italian in refinement, proved versatile enough to inspire adaptations on other chassis, including the Lancia Aurelia B52. This adaptability highlights how forward-thinking the design truly was; it wasn’t a one-off experiment but an idea with reach, even if production remained exclusive.

The 1952 Fiat 1400 Boano Junior by Ghia existed in only two handcrafted and slightly different examples, built in Turin and finished in Maranello. (Picture from: WorldCarsFromThe1930sTo1980s in Facebook)

Over the decades, the car's rarity and its unique place in the design landscape granted it nearly mythical status among collectors. One of the examples, driven sparingly by its longtime owner’s family, later appeared at the Concorso d’Eleganza on Lake Como in 2010—a setting where its sculpted form and gleaming finish fit right in with the world’s most celebrated classics. Yet the Boano Junior carries an appeal that extends beyond its value or exclusivity. It represents the conversation between cultures—American boldness and Italian craftsmanship—at a time when industries were reinventing themselves. It also reflects the trust placed in emerging designers like Gianpaolo, whose fresh perspective helped shape the visual language of a changing era. | eweXyuQ04ic |

Today, the Fiat 1400 Boano Junior stands as a reminder of how innovation can flourish when engineering meets artistry and when tradition acts not as a limitation but as a foundation for experimentation. Its lines capture the optimism of the jet age, its construction speaks to Italian mastery, and its rarity elevates it from an interesting footnote to a meaningful chapter in automotive history. For anyone fascinated by design that bridges continents and generations, this modestly sized yet emotionally powerful coupé continues to spark curiosity, holding its place as one of the most distinctive expressions of mid-century automotive imagination. *** [EKA | FROM VARIOUS SOURCES | CARROZZIERI-ITALIANI | ONLYCARSANDCARS | VELOCETODAY | HEMMINGS | WOR;DCARS FROM THE 1930S TO 1980S IN FACEBOOK | QIURKYRIDES IN X ]

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Tracing Colani’s Mercedes Designs All the Way to the C112 Megastar

Maestro WORKS - Long before futuristic supercars became common conversation pieces, industrial designers were already imagining shapes that could slip through the air with the ease of migrating birds. The late 20th century was a fertile playground for such visions, and among the most daring voices of that era was Luigi Colani, the German-born designer who championed organic curves at a time when the automotive world was still dominated by sharp angles. His philosophy was disarmingly simple: nature already solved most aerodynamic problems—designers merely needed to pay attention. That idea would guide the trajectory of his work from the 1970s into the 1990s and eventually culminate in a radical concept known as the Mercedes C112 Megastar.

Luigi Colani’s Visionary Mercedes C112 Megastar: A Supercar for the Future. (Picture from: CultObjects in X, and Image Nanobana generated)

Colani's automotive journey with Mercedes-Benz stretches further back than most people realize. In the 1970s, he began experimenting with alternative automotive shapes, often using exaggerated curvature to prove how dramatically airflow could be controlled through organic geometry. His prototypes of that decade rarely resembled production vehicles; instead, they looked like sculpted wind tunnels made tangible, a blend of biology and machinery. These early experiments set the tone for everything that followed, especially as he pushed deeper into aerodynamic theory throughout the 1980s.

Thirty-four years ago, the 1991 issue of Auto-Illustrierte (1/91) introduced the Mercedes C112 as a groundbreaking concept created by the visionary Luigi Colani. (Picture from: CultObjects in X)

By the late 1980s and into the early 1990s, Colani’s relationship with high-speed performance became increasingly intertwined with motorsport. He proposed several extreme designs for Mercedes endurance racing, including imaginative studies meant for Le Mans. These machines were shaped like rolling airfoils—smooth, domed cockpits, rounded fenders, sweeping tails, and closed wheel housings that suggested a vehicle grown rather than engineered. Although Mercedes did not adopt these proposals for official competition, the concepts themselves influenced Colani’s own thinking. They were attempts to solve the same issues Group C cars faced: the need for stability at enormous speeds, efficient cooling, and minimal drag across hours of racing. In hindsight, these racing studies became the spiritual forerunners to the road-going supercar idea he would later pursue. 

The 1970 Mercedes-Benz Colani C112 prototype, based on the Mercedes-Benz C111 with a rotary engine, stands out as a testament to his avant-garde vision. (Picture from: EternalConsumptionEngine)

That evolution led to the early 1990s, when Colani turned his attention to a more holistic supercar concept. In 1991, Auto-Illustrierte published what would become one of his most talked-about car creation under Mercedes badge—the C112 Megastar. While the name echoed the Mercedes C112 engineering prototype of the period, Colani’s interpretation was something entirely different, a sculpture of motion built upon his distinctive design language. 

The 1970 Mercedes-Benz Colani C112 prototype's rear featured with a giant wiper and a series of exhaust pipes, boasts radical aerodynamics with a drag coefficient of 0.2. (Picture from: EternalConsumptionEngine)

What made the C112 Megastar stand out was not just its visual boldness but how carefully its shape was engineered around airflow. Colani believed the world underestimated the power of what happened under a car, not just above it. In the Megastar, the air beneath the body was channeled to move faster than the air flowing over the top. This deliberate difference in velocity allowed the underbody to rise at a calculated angle, creating natural downforce at the rear axle without relying on aggressive wings or spoilers. It was a rare instance where aerodynamic function translated directly into aesthetic form.

The 1985 Mercedes-Benz W201/190 Le Mans Concept maintaining a sleek, low-slung profile, and exuded a more refined aesthetic compared to its predecessor, the Colani C112. (Picture from: ConceptCars)

The exterior continued this theme with generously sized side vents designed to extract heat from the engine and maintain steady temperatures during high-load driving. These openings did more than cool—their placement helped smooth the pressure zones along the car’s flanks, allowing the vehicle to maintain stability as speeds climbed. The roof was sculpted like an aero helmet, narrowing airflow into a controlled stream that reduced drag and guided air cleanly toward the rear. Even the tail served a role in managing turbulence, shaping the departing airflow to keep the car planted and consistent at speed.

The 1985 Mercedes-Benz W201/190 Le Mans Concept's rear incorporated smooth, rounded lines to enhance aerodynamics. (Picture from: ConceptCars)

Colani’s obsession with harmony extended all the way to the exhaust system, which he treated not as a mechanical afterthought but as part of the aerodynamic whole. Custom exhaust outlets were positioned to work with the body instead of against it, minimizing drag and supporting the airflow pattern established from nose to tail. While the interior of the Megastar was less documented than its exterior, Colani’s design philosophy suggests that he likely envisioned a cockpit built around organic ergonomics—smooth, flowing, uninterrupted shapes meant to merge with the driver rather than restrict movement.

The 1991 Mercedes-Benz W201/190 Le Mans Concept introducing slanted-style headlights, a typical modern Mercedes-Benz grille, and a striking orange hue. (Picture from: WeirdWheels)

Looking back several decades later, the C112 Megastar feels less like a relic and more like a preview of the design conversations happening today. Electric supercars, efficiency-driven shapes, underbody aerodynamics, and airflow-centric engineering have become standard topics in modern design studios. Colani’s Megastar anticipated the movement long before computational fluid dynamics became mainstream. And perhaps that is why his work continues to resonate: it occupies a rare intersection between art and engineering, challenging the idea that speed requires aggression rather than elegance.

Although the planned engine for this iteration remains undisclosed (seems like it still utilizes the donor's drivetrain), the design evolution showcased Colani's commitment to innovation. (Picture from: WeirdWheels)

Colani’s legacy is often framed through the lens of eccentricity, but the Megastar shows that his ideas were deeply grounded in physics. The car embodies decades of refinement—from his early 1970s organic experiments, to his Le Mans–inspired studies of the 1980s, to the fully formed aerodynamic philosophy he expressed in the early 1990s. The result is a concept not only representative of its era but also surprisingly aligned with the direction performance design is heading today. The C112 Megastar remains one of those rare creations that feels both rooted in its moment and remarkably ahead of it, a reminder that imagination, when paired with the laws of nature, can point toward futures the industry has yet to fully explore. *** [EKA | FROM VARIOUS SOURCES | CULTOBJECTS IN INSTAGRAM | CULTOBJECTS IN X | STORY-CARS | AMAZINGCLASSICCARS | 2H-LEMANS | DARKROASTEDBLEND | ETERNALCONSUMPTIONENGINE ]

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The 1978 Largo: A One-Off Sports Car by Godfred Jensen Lost to Time

Vintage Enigma - The late 1970s were a lively time for automotive experimentation, especially among enthusiasts who preferred building cars with their own hands rather than buying them from a showroom. Within that world of creative engineering, few vehicles are as intriguing—or as elusive—as the yellow sports car known simply as the Largo. Completed around 1978 by Danish builder Godfred Jensen, the car surfaces only through a handful of photographs, yet those images are enough to place it firmly among the most distinctive one-off creations of its era. Without brochures, technical documents, or media coverage, the Largo exists almost entirely as a mystery shaped from fiberglass, imagination, and personal ambition.

The Largo is a unique automotive creation built in 1978 by Danish designer Godfred Jensen, based on the Volkswagen Beetle. (Picture from: Kanaltdk)

What survives visually is striking. The Largo wears a bold yellow finish and features a T-top targa roof, an unusual design choice for independent builders at the time. The twin removable roof panels give the car a playful, open-air personality while still preserving a rigid center bar for structure. Its smooth, flowing body lines and compact sports-car profile evoke the style language of late-70s European custom vehicles, blending the low, clean nose of period sports cars with homebuilt ingenuity. Even without interior photos, the exterior proportions alone suggest a car shaped more by creativity than convention. 

The Largo wheelbase, body proportions, and rear weight balance all hint at Volkswagen origins, even if official confirmation has never surfaced. (Picture from: Kanaltdk)

The foundation beneath that distinctive bodywork is believed to be drawn from the Volkswagen Beetle platform, a favorite among hobbyists throughout Europe during that period. The Beetle’s simple backbone chassis, rear-engine layout, and easily sourced mechanical parts made it a natural starting point for ambitious individuals hoping to create unique personal vehicles. Countless kit cars and homebuilt projects relied on Beetle underpinnings for exactly these reasons, and the Largo fits that pattern both in size and stance. Its wheelbase, body proportions, and rear weight balance all hint at Volkswagen origins, even if official confirmation has never surfaced. 

The Largo wears a bold yellow finish and features a T-top targa roof, an unusual design choice for independent builders at the time. (Picture from: VWNetTet.dk)

Using a Volkswagen platform would have offered Jensen the freedom to shape the Largo’s identity without wrestling with the complexities of designing suspension, drivetrain, or structural components from scratch. Instead, he could focus on the aesthetics and personality of the car, building a low-slung sports machine with a cockpit suited to his vision. The likely pairing of fiberglass body panels with a familiar VW core was a practical approach used by many independent builders of the era, allowing them to achieve ambitious designs with manageable engineering demands.

The Largo's twin removable roof panels give the car a playful, open-air personality while still preserving a rigid center bar for structure (Picture from: VWNetTet.dk)

The Largo was never meant to become a production model, and everything about its story reflects that. It appears to have been a deeply personal project—built by one man, tested on Danish roads, and reportedly used for several years before being sold. Its registration plate, DT 62521, remains the only formal clue to its existence in Denmark’s vehicle records. Without surviving technical paperwork or magazine features, the car slipped through the cracks of automotive history once it changed hands, leaving no confirmed trail of ownership or location.

The Largo smooth, flowing body lines and compact sports-car profile evoke the style language of late-70s European custom vehicles, blending the low, clean nose of period sports cars with homebuilt ingenuity. (Picture from: VWNetTet.dk)

This scarcity of information is part of what makes the Largo such a compelling artifact today. Built in the pre-internet era, its documentation relied entirely on physical photographs, workshop notes, and personal stories—items that can vanish easily if not deliberately preserved. Many one-off vehicles from the 1970s met similar fates: they lived full and enthusiastic lives locally, only to fade into obscurity once the builders moved on to other pursuits or the cars themselves were stored, sold abroad, or dismantled.

The Largo is a unique automotive creation built in 1978 by Danish designer Godfred Jensen, based on the Volkswagen Beetle. (Picture from: VWNetTet.dk)

Yet the Largo endures in the imagination of enthusiasts precisely because so little is known about it. It reflects an era when passion and ingenuity could bring an entirely unique sports car to life in a modest garage. Its bright yellow body, T-top targa layout, and likely Volkswagen underpinnings tell the story of a builder who sought something different—and had the skill and determination to make it real. Whether the Largo still exists today or vanished long ago, its legacy remains a quiet reminder of how powerful individual creativity can be in shaping automotive history. Finally, if any part of this article is inaccurate, incomplete, or if you have additional information about this car, you are warmly encouraged to share it in the comment section below. *** [EKA | FROM VARIOUS SOURCES | KANALT.DK | ALLCARINDEX | CCDISCUSSION | VWNETTET.DK ]

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