If I ask you to picture a “dune buggy,” what comes to mind? Chances are you’ve imagined the shape of a Meyers Manx without even realizing it. When sailor, surfer, and fiberglass boat-builder Bruce Meyers created the first Manx, he had no idea he was launching an entirely new type of vehicle — one that would become a ’60s icon of freedom and fun, cemented in cool by Steve McQueen’s beach-blasting antics in The Thomas Crown Affair. Meyers was simply chasing simplicity and lightness; building a better mousetrap.
Off-road buggies had roamed the Arizona deserts and West Coast beaches since the early ’50s. The October ’54 issue of Rod & Custom called them “Dune Bugs”: cut-down Model A and Model T roadsters that were crude, heavy, and nicknamed “water-pumpers” for their water-cooled engines. Meyers first saw them on Pismo Beach in the early ’60s and began thinking differently. Using a Volkswagen Beetle as the donor car was the breakthrough. Air-cooled, inexpensive, simple, and ubiquitous — with nearly a million imported to the U.S. by then — the Beetle had a flat floor pan that could run without a body and could be shortened without compromising structural integrity. That blank, lightweight canvas was perfect for Meyers’ fiberglass expertise.
The first prototype emerged from Meyers’ garage in 1964. The final design was dubbed the “Manx,” borrowing its name from the epochal Norton racing motorcycle and the Isle of Man TT. It was a lithe, agile buggy that would dominate early off-road racing. Old Red, Meyers’ first Manx, soon shattered time records on the Ensenada-to-La Paz run, and another early car won the grueling 1967 Mexican 1000 — later the famous Baja 1000.
The Meyers Manx made such an impression that magazines like Hot Rod and Car & Driver took notice. Orders flooded in — far more than B. F. Meyers & Co. could ever build. The surge opened the door for dozens of imitators: Empi, Autodynamics, even Sears. They churned out hundreds of thousands of buggy kits in varying wheelbase lengths, filling a market Meyers couldn’t satisfy. Bruce fought the clones in court, alleging copyright infringement, but because Old Red had been built a year before his patent filing, the judge ruled it “public use.” The case evaporated. By 1970, exhausted by lawsuits, copycats, taxes, internal politics, and personal strain, Meyers left the company. A year later, B. F. Meyers & Co. closed its doors.
Three decades later, in the early 2000s, Bruce returned with Meyers Manx, Inc., building a limited run of new Manxes and reigniting interest in the brand. Before his passing in 2021 at age 94, he entrusted the company to the next generation: his friend Freeman Thomas — a designer of the Audi TT and VW New Beetle — and venture capitalist and lifelong gearhead Phillip Sarofim. I sat down with them to discuss taking on the Meyers Manx legacy, reviving the brand, and launching something both new and electric while staying true to its heritage.
JAY WARD: What first attracted you to the Meyers Manx?
PHILLIP SAROFIM: Bruce was very cautious about where the Manx brand could go, and he shared that with Freeman and me. When we first visited him, it was just socially, but we quickly realized the Manx is a priceless part of California’s history — its shape as important as the original Coca-Cola bottle. It’s a piece of ’60s California: Steve McQueen, Mulholland, Pismo Beach. In a way, it’s about the hope of a better tomorrow, and doing something better in the world.
FREEMAN THOMAS: It makes me think of the 1960s as a period of disruption and innovation, especially in Southern California — from Hobie to aerospace to film. The Manx was Bruce’s way of creating something fun and endearing. Artistic, durable, capable — and lovable. Wrapped in metal-flake curves, it was a chameleon: equally at home dirty on Pismo or Malibu beaches, or gliding through Hollywood, Europe, and beyond. Everyone fell for it.
WARD: And why is the Manx still relevant today?
THOMAS: Personally, it’s been part of my life in Southern California’s Volkswagen and Porsche culture. Using the simple, durable VW platform was brilliant. With barely any horsepower, it could win Baja. But beyond the air-cooled magic, the Manx is defined by its shape and its mojo. That’s why McQueen used it: playful, non-threatening — yet dead serious when it needed to be.
SAROFIM: It’s odd, bold, irreverent, and reverent. You’re in the elements — part of the world.
THOMAS: I call it a “vessel of freedom.”
WARD: How does this translate to Manx today?
THOMAS: We’ve split the company into two parts: Manx Classic Remastered and Manx 2.0. There’s overlap, but when you see the new electric version from the 2.0 group, you’ll immediately know it’s a Manx. The original air-cooled personality transitions into electrification beautifully. Some customers will always want the classic engine, but the new, broader audience wants modern, clean, quiet technology — something they can park, plug in, and go.
The Manx 2.0 is entirely new: platform, integration, interior fitments. We treated every component thoughtfully. I’m not the designer who slaps a modern digital cluster on an old dash. I reverse-engineered what Bruce built in 1964. Even our traditionalists have embraced it because it’s completely authentic.
SAROFIM: Historically, the Manx has always been the Switzerland of cars — agnostic to platform or powerplant. Corvair, Ford, Volkswagen… now EV. It’s always been up to the artist.
WARD: What’s powering the new model, and will it stay rear-wheel-drive?
THOMAS: Yes — the Manx 2.0 remains rear-wheel-drive and exactly the same size as the original. We’re offering two versions: a 20 kWh and a 40 kWh model. The 20 kWh setup weighs no more than the VW engine and gearbox and delivers 150 miles of range. The 40 kWh version should hit 300 miles, with only about 150 pounds of added weight.
WARD: Is the Manx 2.0 street legal?
SAROFIM: Absolutely. Being electric helps it meet EPA requirements, and because we’re building 325 turnkey vehicles per year as replicas of a vintage design, it qualifies under a new DOT law. It has front and rear crash zones, a monocoque tub, an integrated windshield roll bar, and a functional rear roll bar.
THOMAS: And we’ve hidden everything beautifully. If I didn’t tell you there was a front roll bar, you’d never notice. It’s like a Meyers Manx that went to finishing school. Even the bolts and washers are engraved “B. F. Meyers and Company 1964.” Inside, the curves are seamless, like sitting in a boat. There’s no tunnel, so the cabin feels spacious. The instrument panel blends analog and digital: a single central gauge and chrome bars that act as switches — like a smartwatch for range, speed, calls, navigation, and more.
WARD: Where does Meyers Manx go from here?
THOMAS: Electrification is a journey. What you see now is Phase One. We’re poised to be a disruptor by offering the first lightweight, street-legal electric vehicle. But at the core, what unites Philip and me is our passion for the brand. As we move into Manx 2.0, we’re staying true to what Bruce created. As Philip said, it’s an agnostic brand — but powerful, personal, and deeply authentic. The history is rich. The spirit runs wide. And that’s what we’re tapping into: expanding the brand meaningfully while holding tight to its soul.
This article first appeared in Iron & Air Magazine, and is reproduced here under license.
Words by Jay Ward | Images by Meyers Manx, Nevin Pontious, Robin Trajano
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