Over 40 years ago, you could buy a rebodied 200-mph Firebird or a Fiero-based Ferrari clone right out of the dealer—almost no one did
The 1980s were a weird time for the American auto industry, but especially for General Motors. Reeling from its inability to keep up with the pace of technological change, GM saw its status as the world’s most dominant manufacturer begin to slip as Japanese brands exploited the quality gap between import and domestic models. This was coupled with the diminishing returns attached to the General’s propensity for badge engineering, where a single platform spawned a half-dozen nearly-identical models—creating a slew of Pontiacs, Chevrolets, Buicks, Oldsmobiles, and even Cadillacs that had little differentiation other than the logo on the grille.
While this strategy would lead to a corporate financial crisis by the end of the decade, one member of the General Motors family decided that doubling down on this type of confusion was the best path forward to sales success. Pontiac’s embrace of the kit-car industry didn’t exactly boost the brand’s bottom line in a meaningful way, but it did manage to create two of the weirdest niche cars of the era, all while attracting the attention of an Italian icon’s vengeful legal department.
The 200-mph Firebird That Wasn’t
Pontiac’s initial branching off into the weirder wilds of kit-car-rebodying culture began just after the launch of the third-generation Firebird, which arrived for the 1982 model year. Although its newly-designed, wedge-like body was sleek and suitably ‘80s, its powertrains couldn’t quite match its visual promise. For the first time, a four-cylinder Firebird was in the cards, and its most powerful engine option—a 5.0-liter V8—couldn’t muster more than 165 horses in top trim.
The internal reaction to this disappointing state of speed was a little over the top. Rather than work to better master the ins and outs of electronic fuel injection and advanced emissions controls, Pontiac decided to, uh, build a 200-mph supercar based on the Firebird.
The company’s first stop was a visit to Knudsen Automotive, a coachbuilder known for producing extroverted, pseudo-classic machinery based on existing GM platforms. Think of the most excessive elements of late-’70s faux-pre-war body kits and conversion cars, and you’ve got the right idea.
When presented with the Firebird, however, the Knudsen approach was remarkably restrained, pushing out the Pontiac’s flanks to add some fibreglass beef while also installing side skirts, an air dam up front, and a flying buttress at the rear that improved, rather than caricatured, the coupe’s lines.
Like “Trojan” Without the “R”
It’s here that Pontiac’s biggest break with reality occurred. The car—which Knudsen labelled the “Tojan”—was ostensibly production-ready in its current form using Pontiac mechanicals. It was decided that the prototype, however, would aim for maximum shock and awe, which explains the decision to install a marine V8 engine that used a Gale Banks turbocharger setup to produce an astounding 800 horsepower. That’s roughly five times the output of the fastest factory Firebird, and it was enough to push the test vehicle past 200 miles per hour (321 km/h) during testing.
The Tojan had the desired effect on Pontiac brass, but of course being so firmly ensconced in the gears of the General Motors machine, by the time the higher-ups signed off on a production version, the car has reverted to what was essentially a body kit layered over top of a stock Firebird.
Starting in 1984, customers could walk into a Pontiac dealership and order a Tojan, which would then be produced by Knudsen Automotive according to their exact specifications—but although Knudsen kept the Banks turbo madness on the options sheet, not a single model left his shop with one installed other than the prototype.
In fact, during the entire run from 1984 to 1987, the company’s records reveal only a single supercharged model lofting above the standard Pontiac mechanicals, with the vast majority of customization leaning towards look-at-me spoilers and full-fat leather interiors. With prices ranging from the mid-$30,000s all the way up past the $60,000 mark—many multiples of the base Firebird’s $10,000 ask—it’s no surprise a mere 135 examples were ever produced.
“Mera” is Italian for “Lawsuit”
It seems the kit-car-inspired customizing bug bit hard at Pontiac, because the middling success of the Tojan begat an even more ambitious partnership based on a car that should have directly benefited from some of that development energy, instead of seeing the automaker farm it out to third parties.
The Pontiac Fiero story is one of compromise, and GM’s only mid-engine marvel until the introduction of the C8 Corvette truly deserved better than the Iron Duke four-cylinder engine it debuted with. The following year’s V6, which added 50 ponies to the equation (for a total of 140) helped make up for some of the Fiero’s lacklustre performance, and it also attracted the attention of a company called Corporate Concepts Limited.
Like Knudsen, CCL was in the business of making cars look like something they weren’t, which made them the perfect partners for pushing the slow-and-steady Fiero’s dramatic bodywork even farther in that particular direction. The car’s space-frame design made a rebody effort that much more accessible, and the upfitter spent two years working on a new design for the Pontiac that added an element of the exotic to its first impression.
Steal From the Best
Did we say “exotic?” Because what we meant was “Ferrari.” It’s impossible to look at the results of CCL’s Fiero Kit, which it dubbed the “Mera,” and not see the Ferrari 308 from nearly every angle. The company didn’t do itself any favours in avoiding this particular comparison either, going so far as to offer Italian Cromadora replica rims as an option with the vehicle.
Apparently the brand bosses at Pontiac were just as blind as the legal counsel at Corporate Concepts Limited, because they saw no problems with selling a Faux-rari direct from their own showroom floors. The arrangement began in 1987 (positioned as a “conversion” dealer option rather than an official product) and in fact the only way you could buy a MERA was to have one built on a brand-new Fiero—CCL never offered it in kit form.
A suit was quickly filed in Michigan, pointing out the extreme resemblance between the MERA and both the Ferrari 308 and 328. The Italians prevailed in court, but it was a moot point: by 1988, the Fiero had been consigned to the scrap heap, and the MERA along with it.
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