TVR Tina Coupé Concept by Fissore: The Prototype That Returned to Life

Revived Rarity - In an era when compact European sports cars were gaining personality, few prototypes captured the hopeful energy of the 1960s quite like the TVR Tina Coupé. Its story began when Martin Lilley took over a struggling TVR in 1965 and immediately sought a fresh direction that could broaden the brand’s appeal. He envisioned a smaller, more affordable model built around the mechanicals of the Hillman Imp Sport, and he turned to designer Trevor Fiore to create an all-steel body that would embody this new philosophy. Fiore produced both a convertible and a fixed-head coupé, the latter ultimately constructed in Italy by Fissore shortly after the cabriolet made its first appearance at the 1966 Turin Motor Show. 

The 1966 TVR Tina Coupé Concept was envisioned by Martin Lilley as a smaller, more affordable TVR built on Hillman Imp Sport mechanicals, with an all-steel body designed by Trevor Fiore. (Picture from: IconicAuctioneers)

The naming of the car became part of its charm. Lilley wanted something quickly, and since racing driver Gerry Marshall—an important figure at the Barnet Motor Company—was closely involved, the team chose to name it after his daughter, Tina. The long-standing anecdote claims they simply trimmed “Cor” off a Ford Cortina badge to create the emblem. The name also fit naturally beside the TVR Trident, which shared a subtle family resemblance. The early Tina prototypes attracted notable attention, and despite their modest Hillman-based underpinnings, they presented a stylish, compact 2+2 package powered by a twin-carburetor Imp engine producing around 55 bhp, dressed in pale gold paint with red leather trim. 

The 1966 TVR Tina Convertible Concept was the companion model to the Coupé, built by Fissore at Martin Lilley’s request for joint display at the 1966 London Motor Show. (Picture from: Autoevolution)

However, early feedback pushed the project into further refinement. The front design of the Tina faced criticism for failing to satisfy the increasingly strict American regulations—an important consideration given that the U.S. market was essential for the car’s profitability. Fissore reworked the coupé’s design while completing the fixed-head version, and Lilley insisted that both the coupé and convertible appear at the October 1966 London Motor Show to signal TVR’s renewed confidence. The decision paid off: visitors were so enthusiastic that potential buyers offered blank cheques simply to secure a place on a future waiting list, and TVR’s factory phones rang nonstop afterward.

The 1966 TVR Tina Coupé Concept faced criticism over U.S. safety regulations, prompting Fissore to revise its front design, yet the compact 2+2 still drew strong attention. (Picture from: IconicAuctioneers)

Enthusiasm alone couldn’t solve the manufacturing challenges, as TVR lacked the capacity to build the Tina cheaply and in high volumes. The company explored partnerships with Rootes, Jensen, and Aston Martin to put the car into production. Rootes had the facilities but would have faced internal competition with its Alpine; Jensen, though skilled in body construction, doubted the Tina could reach the sales volume needed—especially in the American market; Aston Martin, meanwhile, faced financial constraints that ruled out participation. Complicating matters further, the plan to bond a fiberglass body to the Imp’s steel subframe proved impractical, while a full metal body would have been too heavy for the intended engine.

The 1966 TVR Tina Coupé Concept presented a stylish, compact 2+2 layout highlighted by red leather trim on the seats and door panels. (Picture from: IconicAuctioneers)

Despite these obstacles, TVR continued to push the concept. Only the Tina Coupé appeared at the 1967 Turin Motor Show, accompanied by optimistic claims that production would begin in early 1968 with a price of £998 including taxes. Yet every attempt to make the project viable eventually collapsed under the combined weight of cost issues, capacity limitations, and doubts about market suitability. As a result, the Tina never progressed beyond its two prototypes, which gradually faded from public view even though they had briefly served as showstoppers that helped portray TVR as an ambitious and forward-moving company. 

The 1966 TVR Tina Coupé Concept was adorned with an elegant pale gold exterior that emphasized its refined yet understated 1960s character. (Picture from: IconicAuctioneers)

One of the prototypes resurfaced years later in the hands of Gerry Marshall, who acquired a neglected coupé in 1989 with the intention of restoring it. But his long and successful racing career left little free time, and the car remained untouched until his daughter Tina inherited it in 2005. Motivated by childhood memories, she began an extensive restoration effort that involved gathering archival photographs, researching technical details, and reconnecting with individuals who had worked on the original build—including David Hives, one of the craftsmen involved in constructing the first car. 

The 1966 TVR Tina Coupé Concept was powered by a twin-carburetor Hillman Imp engine producing around 55 bhp. (Picture from: IconicAuctioneers)

Through years of patient and meticulous work, Tina managed to revive the car that once bore her name. Restored in its original pale gold finish with red leather interior and running on its twin-carburetor Imp engine, the car is now fully road-legal. Today, it occasionally appears at major automotive events, such as its recent presence alongside the new Griffith at Goodwood—an appearance that echoed TVR’s tradition of pairing its latest models with memorable, eye-catching companions. Even next to a modern, muscular TVR, the petite and elegant Tina still holds its own.

The 1966 TVR Tina Coupé Concept remains especially meaningful as a near-realized path for TVR, reflecting the brand’s creative ambition and renewed momentum in the late 1960s despite never reaching production. (Picture from: IconicAuctioneers)

The survival of the TVR Tina Coupé feels especially meaningful now because it represents a path TVR nearly pursued but never fully realized. Although the car never reached production, it demonstrated the company’s creative ambition during a pivotal moment and helped project an image of renewed vitality in the late 1960s. Through its restoration, the Tina has regained not just its physical form but also its place in the brand’s narrative—a small, charming reminder of what TVR once dreamed of becoming. *** [EKA | FROM VARIOUS SOURCES | CARROZZIERI-ITALIANI | AUTOEVOLUTION | ICONICAUCTIONEERS | CLASSIC CARS & CONCEPT CARS IN FACEBOOK ]

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Supercharged LaDawri Conquest: A Rare Icon of America’s Fiberglass Era

Fiberglass Renaissance - At a time when today’s sports cars often feel shaped more by software than by hand, it’s compelling to revisit the era when fiberglass first opened the door for everyday enthusiasts to build machines of their own. That environment gave rise to Canadian entrepreneur Leslie Albert Dawes, who founded LaDawri Coachcraft in 1956 and moved the operation to Southern California in 1957, where custom-car culture flourished. 

The supercharged LaDawri Conquest shown here, assembled in Wyoming in the 1960s, revives a long-forgotten era of American fiberglass sports cars. (Picture from: Motorious)

Across roughly nineteen fiberglass models produced before the company closed in 1965, the LaDawri Conquest emerged as his most recognized design, earning a Road & Track cover appearance that same year and firmly establishing itself as one of North America’s earliest fiberglass sports cars. Its significance feels even more striking now, when handcrafted innovation is returning to the spotlight in a world dominated by factory-perfect precision. 

The LaDawri Conquest embodies LaDawri’s design philosophy, with bodies mounted on donor frames and fitted with whatever components builders could source, ensuring no two cars were ever alike. (Picture from: Motorious)

One surviving Conquest, originally assembled in Wyoming during the 1960s, captures that inventive spirit with clarity. Riding on a shortened 1952 Ford chassis, it wears a blue fiberglass body paired with matching blue vinyl upholstery—choices that reflect both the builder’s taste and the practical realities of kit-car construction. LaDawri bodies were intended to be mounted on donor frames and fitted with whichever components builders could source, ensuring no two Conquests were ever the same. This particular example channels that philosophy through period-correct engineering, including a C4 three-speed automatic transmission and a Ford 9-inch rear axle equipped with Positraction. 

The LaDawri Conquest rides on a shortened 1952 Ford chassis and wears a blue fiberglass body with matching blue vinyl upholstery, reflecting both the builder’s taste and the practical realities of kit-car construction. (Picture from: Motorious)

Lift the compact hood and the car’s ambitions become unmistakable. A Paxton-supercharged 289-cubic-inch Ford V8 sits at the center of the build, fed by a Holley four-barrel carburetor and a HiPo intake manifold that transform the lightweight fiberglass shell into a surprisingly potent machine. Its supporting parts reinforce its handmade identity: drum brakes at all four corners, chrome wire wheels, and a mix of sourced components ranging from a 1950s Chevrolet truck windshield to Lucas headlights, Pontiac taillights, and an integrated roll bar. These mismatched yet intentional choices form a visual language unique to homebuilt performance cars of the era.

The LaDawri Conquest reveals its bold intent through a Paxton-supercharged 289 V8 with a Holley four-barrel and HiPo intake that make its lightweight body impressively potent. (Picture from: Motorious) (Picture from: Motorious)

Inside, the Conquest embraces a similar blend of simplicity and customization. Stewart-Warner gauges provide crisp instrumentation, while a Fenton shifter anchors the driving position and dual heaters offer a surprising touch of practicality for a minimalist cabin. The interior isn’t polished in the way modern sports cars strive to be, but that’s precisely what makes it compelling—it’s a reflection of decisions made by its original builder, guided by function, creativity, and whatever parts were accessible at the time. | LF5lSJ0hidI | mmi0ePBfGzc |

Today, this supercharged Conquest stands as a vivid reminder of a period when American car culture celebrated resourcefulness, accessibility, and the thrill of shaping a vehicle by hand. As interest in early composite-bodied sports cars continues its resurgence, machines like this offer a direct link to that experimental era—one defined by ambition, improvisation, and a belief that extraordinary performance didn’t require a factory badge so much as the will to build something entirely your own. *** [EKA | FROM VARIOUS SOURCES | MOTORIOUS | UNDISCOVEREDCLASSICS | WIKIPEDIA ]

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De Tomaso Mangusta: When Italian Design Took on American Muscle

Engineered Dissent - The late 1960s and early 1970s were a turbulent yet thrilling chapter in automotive history, when ambition often outweighed caution. Exotic cars were no longer just about speed; they became statements of intent, personality, and rivalry. Within this climate of experimentation and challenge, the De Tomaso Mangusta appeared as a bold declaration rather than a calculated product, embodying the restless spirit of its era and the uncompromising vision of its creator. 

The De Tomaso Mangusta appeared as a bold declaration rather than a calculated product, embodying the restless spirit of its era and the uncompromising vision of its creator. (Picture from: Carrozzieri-Italiani)

Unveiled in production form by 1971 as the De Tomaso Mangusta by Ghia, the car owed much of its visual impact to Giorgetto Giugiaro, then working at Carrozzeria Ghia. The design was strikingly futuristic: low-slung, wide, and tense, with sharp surfaces that looked carved rather than styled. Its most recognizable feature was the split rear engine cover, hinged along a central spine and opening upward in gullwing fashion, with tinted plexiglass revealing the V8 beneath. Flared wheel arches, large alloy wheels, and a sleek fastback profile completed a shape that still feels dramatic decades later. 

The De Tomaso Mangusta, unveiled in production form by 1971, owed much of its visual impact to Giorgetto Giugiaro during his tenure at Carrozzeria Ghia. (Picture from: Carrozzieri-Italiani)

Even the name carried intention. “Mangusta” means mongoose in Italian—an animal famous for killing cobras. This was no poetic coincidence. At the time, the Shelby Cobra ruled the performance conversation, powered by Ford V8 engines similar to those used by De Tomaso. By choosing this name, Alejandro de Tomaso quietly framed his car as a challenger, a symbolic predator aimed at one of the most respected sports cars of the era. The Mangusta was designed not just to exist alongside legends, but to confront them. 

The De Tomaso Mangusta reflected its race-bred philosophy inside, with a compact cabin tightly wrapped around two occupants, limited rearward visibility, and modest luggage space. (Picture from: Carrozzieri-Italiani)

Inside, the Mangusta reflected its race-bred philosophy. The cabin was compact and tightly wrapped around its two occupants, with limited rearward visibility and modest luggage space. Comfort played a secondary role, though features such as power windows and optional air conditioning were available. The driving position placed the driver close to the mechanical core of the car, reinforcing the sense that this was a machine focused on engagement rather than indulgence. 

The De Tomaso Mangusta was powered by Ford V8 engines—most commonly 289 or 302 cubic-inch units—paired with a ZF five-speed transaxle derived from serious competition machinery. (Picture from: Carrozzieri-Italiani)

Power came from a mid-mounted Ford V8—most commonly a 289 or 302 cubic-inch unit—paired with a ZF five-speed transaxle borrowed from serious competition machinery. Performance was formidable for its time, with De Tomaso claiming top speeds beyond 150 mph. However, the pressed-steel backbone chassis struggled to fully contain the V8’s muscle. A heavy rear weight bias and limited rigidity resulted in handling that could feel unpredictable, alternating between understeer and oversteer depending on conditions, making the Mangusta thrilling but demanding at speed. 

The De Tomaso Mangusta, produced in limited numbers of around 400 units, stands today as a daring blend of American muscle and Italian design. (Picture from: Carrozzieri-Italiani)

Although often linked in conversation to the 1969 De Tomaso Mangusta Shelby Mark V Prototype, it is important to understand that the Mangusta did not originate from that collaboration. By the time Carroll Shelby became involved in the experimental Mark V project, the Mangusta had already been designed, revealed, and was in production. The Shelby Mark V was a later, standalone prototype—an exploration of potential evolution rather than the Mangusta’s foundation—and it never progressed beyond the experimental stage as De Tomaso shifted focus toward more viable future projects. | u6F9AXmqiPE |

That future arrived in the form of the Pantera, which replaced the Mangusta in 1971 and achieved far greater commercial success. Yet the Mangusta’s legacy remains uniquely powerful. Produced in limited numbers—around 400 units—it stands today as a daring blend of American muscle and Italian design, a car driven by symbolism as much as engineering. Imperfect, provocative, and unforgettable, the De Tomaso Mangusta represents a moment when courage mattered more than certainty, leaving an enduring mark on automotive history. *** [EKA | FROM VARIOUS SOURCES | STORY-CARS | CARROZZIERI-ITALIANI | SILODROME | CLASSIC CAR VOYAGE IN FACEBOOK ]

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The 1972 Škoda GIOM 1: Slovakia’s Strikingly Low Hand-Built Sports Car

Boundary-Bred Craft - Long before today’s era of niche performance brands and custom builds shared instantly online, car culture survived in far quieter corners of the world. In 1970s Czechoslovakia—where the automotive market was shaped more by necessity than passion—enthusiasts still found ways to express their love for speed. Out of that atmosphere emerged a car that seemed almost impossible for its time: the GIOM 1, a Slovak-built sports machine whose height was so extreme that in 1972 it was reportedly the second lowest car in the world. 

The GIOM 1 sports car, created in Slovakia in 1972, was claimed to be the second lowest car in the world at the time. (Picture from: WeirdWheels in Reddit)

Its origins were surprisingly humble. In Piešťany, František Němec’s growing interest in racing collided with the creativity of a small circle of friends. Together they formed a group known as GIOM, short for “Garage of Ten Motorists.” With limited funds but an eagerness to build something competitive, they chose the B5 class and began crafting a machine from components that were accessible yet adaptable. The Škoda 100/110 series provided the foundation, offering a rear-engined layout, a simple mechanical structure, and parts that could be reworked without sophisticated equipment. 

The GIOM 1 sports car, was built from a Škoda 110 R donor using its self-supporting floor platform, chassis, and both axles—trapezoidal in front and shuttle-type at the rear. (Picture from: WeirdWheels in Reddit)

From the original Škoda 110 R donor, the team carried over the self-supporting floor platform, the chassis, and the axles—the front trapezoidal and the rear shuttle setup. The one-liter engine from the Škoda 100, paired with its four-speed manual transmission, became the car’s first power source. Over time, the team took an ambitious step by installing a Fiat 1600 twin-cam engine, said to produce around 130 horsepower, elevating the GIOM 1 far beyond anything the group had initially expected.

The GIOM 1 sports car showcased resourceful engineering, yet its true ambition emerged in the completely new bodywork crafted by František Němec and young designer Peter Chudý. (Picture from: WeirdWheels in Reddit)

Engineering choices reflected thoughtful improvisation. The suspension used Koni shock absorbers, while the front brakes were upgraded to Girling discs—a sharp contrast to the original drum system retained at the rear. Everyday driving relied on Škoda metal wheels fitted with Barum tires, but for racing, lightweight alloy wheels—sometimes referred to as electron wheels—were paired with Dunlop tires to sharpen performance. 

The GIOM 1 sports car was versatile enough to serve as a daily driver while also being capable of transforming into a circuit-ready racer when needed. (Picture from: WeirdWheels in Reddit)

Although the mechanical aspect was resourceful, the bodywork was where true ambition surfaced. A completely new shell was crafted by František Němec and the young designer Peter Chudý. Only 22 years old and studying architecture at the Slovak Technical University, Chudý had already spent years submitting visionary car designs to competitions. His proposals explored multiple body variations, and his entries regularly ranked among the best, often taking several of the top positions at once. That creative confidence shaped the dramatic, futuristic form of the GIOM 1—something far removed from any standard Škoda silhouette. 

The GIOM 1 sports car, was built from a Škoda 110 R donor using its self-supporting floor platform, chassis, and both axles—trapezoidal in front and shuttle-type at the rear. (Picture from: WeirdWheels in Reddit)

The car was built almost entirely in Němec’s garage, with help from nine friends who brought together skills ranging from mechanical work to painting. The process wasn’t glamorous, but their craftsmanship allowed the vehicle to evolve into a sleek, extremely low sports car that looked decades ahead of its environment. In a period defined by uniformity, the GIOM 1 stood out not just as a technical curiosity but as a statement of personal vision. | 6A4IPsU-bo8 |

When viewed from the lens of today’s open, highly individualized car culture, the GIOM 1 feels unexpectedly relevant. It speaks to an idea that has gained new momentum: that remarkable machines can rise from places with limited resources, powered not by corporate budgets but by determination, skill, and friendship. Its story bridges the gap between past and present, echoing a truth that continues to inspire builders around the world—that innovation thrives wherever passion is strong enough to keep it alive. *** [EKA | FROM VARIOUS SOURCES | AUTO.CZ |  VRCHY | WEIRDWHEELS IN REDDIT ]

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A Bespoke De Tomaso Pantera Straight from the ’70s Spirit

Seventies Swagger - There’s a certain magic in cars that preserve the mood of their era, and the De Tomaso Pantera has always been one of those machines. Built at the junction of Italian design and American muscle, it already carried a strong ’70s attitude, yet one custom-ordered example from 1975 pushes that spirit even further with details that feel like a snapshot of the decade’s boldest impulses. 

The 1975 De Tomaso Pantera Custom, built at the crossroads of Italian design and American muscle, amplifies its inherent ’70s attitude through bespoke details commissioned by a Greek entrepreneur and close friend of Alejandro de Tomaso. (Picture from: Motortrend)

Panteras were produced in fairly significant numbers for a supercar of their time—around 7,260 units—yet almost none were factory-customized. That’s what makes this particular car unusual. It was commissioned by a Greek entrepreneur who happened to be a close friend of Alejandro de Tomaso, and he approached the order sheet like it was a canvas. He wanted the car as low as possible, without the usual side script, and with a “T” placed at the center of the radiator. The cabin had to be drenched entirely in white leather, down to the space beneath the small gauges and the inside door panels. He also requested EE plates, the removal of the rear bumper, and a free-flow exhaust system to emphasize character over convention. 

The 1975 De Tomaso Pantera Custom was specified to sit as low as possible, delete the traditional side script, and feature a “T” emblem centered on the radiator. (Picture from: Motortrend)

What the handwritten requests didn’t mention was the dramatic bodywork. The car originally carried Group 4–style fender flares before they were swapped for boxier extensions that enhanced its already sharp silhouette. And while the Pantera’s Ford-sourced 5.7-liter V8 was strong by default, it’s believed that the engine was enlarged to 7.0 liters later in the decade, giving this one-off build even more presence and power.

The 1975 De Tomaso Pantera Custom initially wore Group 4–style fender flares before later adopting boxier extensions that intensified its sharp, wedge-like silhouette. (Picture from: Motortrend)

Its journey took a strange turn when irregularities with registration and number plates led Italian authorities to seize the car in 1985. The owner never retrieved it, and it eventually emerged from police impound years later. At some point, it was restored back to the specifications originally laid out in that unusually detailed order, preserving the white-on-white aesthetic, bespoke touches, and bold stance exactly as envisioned in the mid-’70s.

The 1975 De Tomaso Pantera Custom featured an all-white leather interior extending across the dashboard, beneath the small gauges, and onto the inner door panels. (Picture from: Motortrend)

When the car later appeared in an Artcurial Parisienne event in 2021, it stood out more for its personality than its fate among the catalog. Even though the auction generated nearly $22 million in overall sales, this Pantera drew attention simply because it represented something rarely seen: a truly personalized vision built at a time when automakers weren’t yet in the business of offering bespoke supercar programs. 

The 1975 De Tomaso Pantera Custom was further specified with EE plates, a deleted rear bumper, and a free-flow exhaust system. (Picture from: Motortrend)

Machines like this reveal how expressive car culture once was. Instead of curated packages or digital configurators, individuality came from daring choices and direct relationships with the people who built the cars. This custom Pantera embodies that freedom, carrying the mood of its decade in every flare, every leather panel, and every unusual request that shaped it into something unmistakably its own. *** [EKA | FROM VARIOUS SOURCES | MOTORTREND ]

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The 2027 Jaguar S-Type Returns Virtual as a Retro-Modern Sedan

Elegant Revival - Some automotive names refuse to fade quietly, and Jaguar remains one of them. As the brand navigates an uncertain phase in the mid-2020s, a virtual revival of the 2027 Jaguar S-Type has captured attention by offering a calmer, more grounded alternative to Jaguar’s recent design direction. Rather than chasing extremes, this retro-modern sedan reconnects the marque with its heritage while acknowledging the realities of the modern automotive landscape.

The 2027 Jaguar S-Type Concept designed by Giorgi Tedoradze, known online as tedoradze.giorgi, a Georgia-based industrial designer. (Picture from: Autoevolution)

Jaguar’s struggles form the backdrop to this digital concept. Now operating under Tata as part of JLR, the company has faced financial pressure, a shrinking lineup, and growing criticism following its bold pivot toward ultra-luxury EVs. The controversial Type 00 concept and the abrupt departure of design chief, Gerry McGovern reinforced the sense that Jaguar had drifted away from the elegance and restraint that once defined its identity. 

The 2027 Jaguar S-Type Concept proposed as an unofficial revival of the S-Type as a way to re-anchor Jaguar’s design language. (Picture from: Autoevolution)

The unofficial 2027 S-Type, envisioned by Georgia-based industrial designer Giorgi Tedoradze, proposes a different path. Inspired by both historic S-Type generations, the design blends classic proportions with contemporary refinement. Its long hood, balanced stance, and subtle detailing evoke traditional Jaguar character without leaning into nostalgia or exaggerated futurism, presenting a sedan that feels relevant rather than retro.

The 2005 Jaguar S-Type R . (Picture from: BringATrailer)

Beyond its styling, the concept stands out for its pragmatic philosophy. A proposed hybrid V6 powertrain offers a bridge between combustion heritage and modern efficiency, sidestepping the limitations and anxieties still associated with full electrification. Even as a purely digital creation, the 2027 Jaguar S-Type reframes the conversation around Jaguar’s future, suggesting that progress can coexist with identity instead of replacing it. *** [EKA | FROM VARIOUS SOURCES | TEDORADZE.GIORGI IN INSTAGRAM | AUTOEVOLUTION | BRINGATRAILER ]

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