This Baja Bug Restomod Is the Most We've Ever Had at 40 MPH

Modern cars aren’t much fun at slow speeds. There are exceptions, of course, like the ever-wonderful Mazda Miata. But performance machines like the Porsche 911 and BMW M5 have become so capable that exploring their limits on public roads isn’t safe or practical. They’re too good for the state of our infrastructure and the congestion that occupies it. 

Enter the TBug. With squishy off-road tires, loads of suspension travel, and double-digit horsepower, this is a modern, $149,000 recreation of the original Volkswagen Baja Bugs of the 1960s. It’s made by high-end British restomodder Twisted, best known for its Land Rover Defenders. Twisted turned 25 this year, and during the company’s North American launch, I got to drive the TBug on track. While it’s almost unfathomably expensive for a Beetle, it has one of the highest fun-vs-speed quotients I’ve ever experienced in any car. 

Photos by: Twisted

The Baja Bug is a Southern California icon. Born of late-1960s dune-buggy culture and in response to VW-based kit cars like the Meyers Manx, the Baja style of cut bumpers, flared fenders, and chunky all-terrain tires emerged as an aesthetic choice as much as a functional one. Many Baja Bugs leave their rear-mounted, air-cooled flat-four completely exposed, transforming the cute people’s car into something purposeful and rebellious. As of 2017, Volkswagen claimed that Beetle-based vehicles had won the Baja 1000 more times than any other model.

Five thousand, five hundred miles away in Yorkshire, England, Twisted founder Charles Fawcett stared at Baja Bug posters on his sister’s bedroom wall as a child. He was mesmerized by the pastel Pacific landscapes and fun-loving car culture of California in the 1960s and early 1970s. 

Two decades later, while Fawcett was running off-road driver training programs for Land Rover Defender owners, he identified a niche for making the 4x4s more refined and palatable on-road. Without destroying their rugged character. He started making and selling parts as a side project, and soon, entire Defenders under the ‘Twisted’ moniker.

"At the time, no one else was doing it," Fawcett told me at the company’s North American launch event. "We were the first."

Twisted prides itself on its restraint and attention to detail. Its builds look stock or perhaps OEM-plus, despite having modern electronics like Bluetooth, Apple CarPlay, and hi-fi sound systems. Sales Executive Rob McDougal explains that getting the perfect door-shut click on a Defender might take 12 hours of adjustment—but it’s worth it. The goal is always better than new; for example, the speaker housings underneath a Twisted vehicle’s seats are vibration-damped to avoid unsavory noises from the glass or metal.

Twisted’s primary focus is still the Defender, of which it produces about 25 examples a year at its North Yorkshire factory, but the company is branching out through its ‘Special Projects’ line. There’s a Suzuki Jimny, which unfortunately isn’t available in the US, and now this Bahama Gold Bug. Twisted plans to make around five TBugs per year to buyers’ specifications, sourcing rust-free cars from the Western US and giving them the full Baja treatment.

'At the time, no one else was doing it. We were the first.'

The TBug is powered by a brand-new 1776-cc air-cooled flat-four with double the Beetle’s original power—around 80 horsepower. It has forged barrels and pistons, a forged, counterweighted crankshaft, and dual Weber carburetors. This Bug runs long-travel suspension at all four corners, with an independent rear suspension in place of the original swing axle.

Opening the door and hopping inside, the smell of fresh leather immediately hits me. Not that chemically treated stuff you get in a new car, but the rich, wafting scent of a special Scottish herd. The seats are plush, and the seating position is comfortable for this lanky reporter. Turning the key and wiggling the T-handle shifter to ensure I’m in neutral, the flat-four braps to life before settling into a smooth, mechanical whir at idle.

The floor-hinged clutch grabs near the top of its travel, and I bounce down pit lane in first gear. I track out onto Monticello Motor Club’s road course, clunking the Bug’s four-speed into second and then third, warming up the gearbox and my brain. It takes about a lap to find a rhythm with a new-old car I’ve never driven before and a track I’ve been on once, three years ago, in an electric sedan with eight times the Bug’s horsepower.

By lap two, I’m feeling more confident. I jab the upgraded brakes, point the Bug’s unassisted steering and BFGoodrich tires towards the apex cones, and bound straight up onto the curbing. The Bug leans over on its shocks and soft sidewalls, but it goes where I ask it to. The back end gently steps out. I countersteer and add throttle, and the engine’s whir becomes a thrumming growl. The instructor beside me cackles as we repeat this dance through the next several corners. 

At one point, I look at the speedometer. We’re going 40 miles per hour.

It’s over too quickly. I only had a few golden-hour laps in the TBug, but it was enough for me to get comfortable with the car and probe its low limits. I didn’t get to try it on a loose surface, where it’s probably even more of a riot. But I did come away thinking this might be the antidote to modern performance cars.

Photos by: Twisted

At one point, I look at the speedometer. We're going 40 miles per hour.

Driving nirvana, at least for me, isn’t a stomach-churning zero-to-60 run or a maniacally fast lap time. It’s a flow state, a sense of being in sync with a car and maybe even learning something in the process. The cars I tend to enjoy the most are the ones that make this state accessible in the real world.

The Baja Bug is a great teacher of rear-engine dynamics. Because everything happens as if in slow motion, you have a beat to react, feeling weight transfer through exaggerated body motions and catching slides before they become spins. The car’s not snappy the way some people describe Porsche 911s, but it’ll show you lift-off oversteer if you let it. 

Where I live on the East Coast, the twistiest country roads are dotted with houses and peppered with potholes. You’re as likely to encounter a horse trailer as you are an unimpeded line through a corner. It’s enjoyable, scenic driving, but it’s not a place where you want to go particularly fast. 

Roads like these beg the question: What’s the best car for going 40 miles per hour? A Baja Bug might be the answer.

As any old car does, the TBug has some problems. The shifter’s a bit clunky. The cabin smells like fuel when you’re on it. And I can’t imagine it’s very safe by modern standards. But when you’re driving it, none of that really matters. 

The biggest problem: Is any old Volkswagen, no matter how good, worth $150,000? Probably not. If you’re not so concerned with fit and finish perfection, you could likely build something just as capable and fun for a lot less. But I can’t imagine Twisted will have trouble finding five customers a year for this, nor can I imagine that anyone who buys a TBug will regret it.

After all, who wouldn’t want to have this much fun without breaking the speed limit?