Inside Oilstainlab's quest to build a supercar on its own terms

Modern supercars often follow a similar script: outrageous power, expansive screens, aero components, and a price tag that could buy you a rather nice house. The formula works, of course, but it can also make the business of building an exotic car feel a little too predictable.

Oilstainlab wants to shake things up. The independent outfit isn't particularly interested in following the established playbook with its upcoming supercar, instead it's exploring a more unconventional approach to performance, powertrains, and what a modern supercar can be.

After its HF-11 concept swept across social media a while ago, the Californian studio decided to follow up with more than just an internet spectacle – a proper modern supercar with swappable powertrains. On paper, it's an ambitious proposition for a small outfit taking on an industry dominated by deep-pocketed manufacturers, but in theory, Oilstainlab's founders seem perfectly happy to do things differently – even if that means coloring outside the lines.

We spoke to Nikita Bridan, one of two twin brothers who founded the firm, to shed light on the intricacies of how Oilstainlab’s first-ever car is coming about.

Tell me about the origins of Oilstainlab. How did you and your brother end up building your own car company?

My brother and I were born in Ukraine and raised in a very rural part of Canada, where there weren't many cars that people would consider exotic or fancy. There weren't sports cars everywhere, so we developed a different perspective on cars.

At 14, we left high school and moved to Italy, where we were fortunate enough to learn about coachbuilding, one-off cars, and how design houses operate. We later moved to California, where we experienced startup culture, Hollywood, and the importance of storytelling. Oilstainlab is essentially the culmination of those experiences: Italian craftsmanship and design blended with California's entrepreneurial spirit and extraordinary car culture, particularly its enthusiasm for modification and customization.

We also gained experience working at the original equipment manufacturer (OEM) level. My brother managed production programs for Honda and GAC, helping put millions of cars on the road. My background was more focused on future strategy: looking 15 years ahead, identifying emerging technologies and helping companies decide where to invest.

Around 2018–19, we established Oilstainlab as a design consultancy. We eventually began building our own car, the Half11, because we wanted to move away from computer screens and start making physical things. We could see where technology, particularly artificial intelligence, was heading, and wanted an alternative to the corporate world.

The first car attracted a lot of attention, and in 2023 we began developing a new vehicle based on the feedback and interest it generated.

We love combustion engines, electric vehicles, technology, the past and the future. Those interests might seem contradictory, but combining them is precisely what makes the work exciting.

The car clearly draws inspiration from the 1966 Porsche 911. Were there other cars you grew up admiring, or was the design driven by something else?

It wasn't driven by a particular shape as much as by the desire to create an experience for both the driver and passenger.

We never lived through the 1960s, so we didn't get to experience those race cars firsthand. But we have an idea of what that era must have felt like, and we want to capture some of that character in a modern vehicle.

The challenge is that the rules were very different back then. Modern requirements covering safety, headlights, and pedestrian protection didn't exist in the same way. We wanted to preserve the experience while incorporating contemporary safety and technology.

People often complain that cars are becoming heavier, but carbon fiber and other advanced materials give us ways to address that. There are fewer excuses for accepting compromises than there used to be.

The design is a combination of our passion for 1960s cars, Italian design and coachbuilding, combined with modern engineering and our experience working for major manufacturers. We call it the 'no-excuse' or 'no-compromise' car. If something appears impossible, our approach is to find a way to make it possible, whether that means bringing in another specialist or approaching the engineering differently.
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Three modern cars particularly interest us from a product perspective: the Gordon Murray T.50, the Aston Martin Valkyrie and Singer's Porsche 911 restorations.

Singer demonstrates how timeless design and exceptional interior quality can coexist with everyday usability. The Valkyrie is fascinating for its extreme aerodynamics and uncompromising engineering, although we were more interested in its visual impact than its complexity and difficulty of use. The T.50 impresses us with its compact dimensions and extraordinary packaging, including its ability to accommodate three people and luggage.

Those cars represent different approaches to engineering and design that we wanted to learn from.

Are you trying to solve a specific problem with modern sports cars, or are you deliberately creating something that doesn't necessarily need to exist?

Someone could reasonably look at a multimillion-dollar hypercar and ask what problem it solves. We understand that perspective, but we look at the bigger picture.

Sports cars are getting bigger, heavier, and more complicated. Electric sports cars, in particular, have faced a substantial rejection from enthusiasts. The market has largely said it doesn't want the electric sports cars currently on offer.

That's a frontier we want to explore. We often say we hate electric vehicles, but we're talking about the EVs available today. Our approach is different.

We want to retain the things that make driving special: a manual transmission, lightweight construction, sound, and an engaging experience. But the vision extends beyond this first car. Cars are becoming less fun, and they're also becoming increasingly expensive.

The idea is to build a halo vehicle and eventually transfer what we learn from it into something more attainable. Rather than limiting the experience to a US$2 million car, we want to develop a product that more people could aspire to buy, perhaps by saving towards it over time.

Ultimately, we want to bring the excitement and experience of a hypercar to a broader audience.

Assembly was originally expected to begin in October. Are you still on schedule?

We're broadly on schedule with our revised timeline. The original plan changed because of substantial delays caused by global conflicts and suppliers redirecting their resources towards military products, including drones and missiles.

We've completed the initial fitment work on the chassis. We're planning to show the car in Canada on November 7, after which it will be transported to California for winter testing. Testing in Canada becomes difficult once the snow arrives, whereas California gives us a better environment to work in.

We currently expect to unveil the fully finished car in summer 2027.

I saw the car on the tarmac in your recent social media posts. Has real-world testing begun?

The car isn't running yet. We still need to complete the coolant and brake lines, which is the next stage of the build. We expect to begin testing once the car reaches California, probably in early December.

How difficult has it been to translate the original concept into a production-ready vehicle without losing what made it special?

We've effectively developed two vehicles. The original car shown at Goodwood was never intended to be a commercial product. It had no doors and used a tube-frame chassis, but it captured the character and feel of a 1960s race car. That's what people fell in love with.

Turning that into a commercial vehicle is extremely difficult. The proportions, wheels, ergonomics, and engineering requirements are different, so we essentially had to start again.

We spent around two years developing an engineering and regulatory strategy, identifying the requirements and determining what needed to change. We established the vehicle's packaging and hard points before moving into the design process, then repeatedly compared the new car with the original.

We also spoke to customers to understand what we had captured, what we had lost, and what was missing. We called this process 'chasing a ghost.' You can never reproduce the original experience perfectly, but you can try to get as close as possible.

That process continued for around 12 months before we produced the full-size static model. It represented roughly 98% of the finished design. Since then, the work has focused on manufacturing feasibility: how panels are finished, how components fit together, and how everything can be built properly.

We're now dealing with approximately 1,800 bespoke components. It's a complicated undertaking.

You spoke about the car that went viral at Goodwood. I heard what it sounded like, and I thought it sounded absolutely wicked. How close will the production car come to that sound and character?

Sound was a major part of what made the original car special. When we first arrived at Goodwood, few people knew who we were. By the second day, the crowds had grown because people had heard the car and wanted to find out what was making that noise.

We developed a 3D-printed Inconel exhaust system for the original car. We're taking a similar approach with the new vehicle, although it uses a flat-six engine. The flat-six should rev higher, allowing us to develop a different but equally exciting sound.

Tell me about the Thunderbolt powertrain concept. Is it similar to the battery-swapping systems used by some electric motorcycles?

Unlike motorcycles, the focus isn't on swapping individual batteries during everyday use. Instead, we're looking at exchanging the entire powertrain.

The idea emerged partway through development. We realized that the combustion and electric configurations had similar thermal requirements and could both use a manual transmission. That made the concept more practical than we initially expected.

We redesigned parts of the bodywork to accommodate the removal process. The rear subframe can be disconnected, allowing the engine and fuel tank to slide out together as a single unit. The assembly is designed to remain self-contained, avoiding the need to disconnect individual fuel lines.

In simplified terms, the process involves undoing six bolts and disconnecting a couple of electrical connectors.

Would owners be able to perform the powertrain swap themselves, or would it need to be done by the factory?

That's still an internal debate. The main issue is liability. It would be possible to train and certify customers, with connected tools verifying that bolts have been tightened to the correct specifications and sending confirmation back to the factory. Bugatti uses comparable verification processes in its manufacturing operations.

However, the more likely solution may be to send a mechanic to the customer to carry out the conversion. We don't expect people to change the powertrain several times a month. It would be something they might do before a track event or for a different driving experience.

Could someone buy the car with a combustion engine and switch to electric power later?

Yes, that's the idea. We're seeing substantial interest in the electric configuration, with approximately 80% of prospective customers expressing a preference for it. An owner could potentially begin with the combustion version and upgrade to electric power as the technology and product develop.

What performance are you targeting for the combustion version?

The target remains a water-cooled 4.2-liter engine producing approximately 650 hp and revving to 10,000 rpm. We hope to have it running around early to mid-December.

Will the electric version produce similar power, or will it be more powerful?

The electric version uses a single motor paired with a manual transmission rather than a quad-motor arrangement. That limits how much power we want to deliver, because we need the car to remain manageable.

The battery is theoretically capable of delivering as much as 2,400 hp, but we're not going to offer that kind of output in a car weighing approximately 1,000 kg (2,200 lb). That would be excessive.

We're still finalizing the output, but we expect around 850 hp. We think that should provide more than enough performance while keeping the car drivable.

Are the combustion and electric versions following the same development timeline?

The electric version is taking longer because it's a much more complicated engineering exercise, particularly in terms of safety and containing the risks associated with high-energy batteries.

We previously used an electric version of the Half11 to validate the manual-driving experience and the sound. You can even stall an EV, which is a fascinating part of the concept.

We estimate that we're around six to 12 months away from having a running, drivable electric car.

What makes the Thunderbolt's electric system different from other electric sports cars?

One area we're particularly excited about is the battery technology. We're using silicon-anode technology.

There was enormous investment in electric technology several years ago, particularly for applications such as electric vertical-take-off-and-landing aircraft. Some of that technology is now available without being widely used in conventional cars.

We believe it gives us opportunities that other manufacturers aren't necessarily pursuing. It could help us achieve our target weight of approximately 2,200 lb while making the powertrain modular and interchangeable.

In fact, I'm more excited about the electric version of the Thunderbolt than I am about the combustion version.

One very personal question: the car appears to deliberately avoid excessive screens and modern driver aids. Will the production interior retain physical buttons and an old-school feel, or will it simply look retro while functioning like a modern car?

The word 'analog' is overused. People often forget that it has a specific technical meaning. What matters to us is the experience.

We describe our intended customers as 'maniacs,' and we think of the cabin as an asylum: an escape from the chaos of everyday life. To some people, driving our car might seem crazy because it's loud, expensive, and demanding. But for our customers, spending time in a boring appliance of a car might be the real madness.

We want to create a space without unnecessary distractions. Most automotive manufacturers spend their time trying to save people time. Our car does the opposite: it's a toy designed to help people spend their time in the most enjoyable way possible.

That doesn't mean we're opposed to screens or technology. The car uses a digital rear-view mirror because it serves a practical purpose. We're not going to reject a useful technology simply to make the car look old-fashioned.

We're pro-technology, but we want the experience to be distilled, focused, and purposeful. If a screen or a button doesn't contribute to that experience, we have to ask why it's there.

Is the initial production run limited to 25 cars? And will Oilstainlab remain focused on limited-edition vehicles, or could it eventually build something for a broader market?

Our immediate priority is to build the 25 cars. Moving from one-off vehicles to a run of 25 is a significant learning curve for any company.

There is room for future variations. Established carmakers offer convertibles, Speedsters, Targas, turbocharged versions, and track-focused models, and we could explore similar possibilities.

One of the most interesting aspects of the Thunderbolt is its modular chassis, which can accommodate different use cases. We've invested heavily in that flexibility, and there may be developments in this area that we can reveal later.

We're also gradually developing what we currently call Project Grin. It's intended to be a more affordable vehicle based on what we learn from the Thunderbolt, including the driving experience, customer journey, and community.

The aim is to bring the experience of a hypercar to people who might not be able to afford the flagship car.

Who do you imagine buying the car? Is it primarily for collectors, serious track-day enthusiasts, or people who want to drive it regularly?

We often describe our customers as 'maniacs.' We mean people who are fortunate enough to lose themselves in what they love.

There is a strong connection with motorsport, particularly among gentleman racers, because it remains a risky activity. But the car isn't being developed around a single headline statistic. We can't simply claim a top-speed record or the quickest quarter-mile time and expect that to explain the product.

It's a nuanced car aimed at an informed buyer, probably someone with considerable experience who has been disappointed by a major manufacturer, frustrated by the allocation process, or tired of the politics surrounding exclusive cars.

Our customers tend to be independent-minded, a little rebellious, and often self-made entrepreneurs.

Do you consider other hypercar manufacturers competitors?

The hypercar market is unusual. Someone who buys one hypercar is often likely to buy another, much as people who own private jets or yachts may acquire more than one. It's not like buying a household appliance.

We don't necessarily view other manufacturers as direct competitors fighting for the same customer. We look at what they do and ask whether we can offer a different experience.

We also think about competition in two ways: the product and the business. Customers need to trust the company behind a car that costs this much.

Gordon Murray Automotive is an important benchmark in that respect. The company has delivered its cars, and its customers appear broadly satisfied. That provides a useful example of how a specialist manufacturer can establish credibility.

Singer is another company we admire for the way it has developed its brand and product while standing behind its work. We want to learn from others without repeating their expensive mistakes.

How large is the team, and how personal is this undertaking for the people involved?

My brother handles most of the operations, manufacturing, and supplier relationships because of his production background. I focus more on customers, design, engineering, partnerships, clients, and investors.

We're a highly international team of roughly 10 to 15 people, with a mix of full-time and part-time contributors. We work with specialists across Europe and have partners in Japan.

Our manufacturing facility is in Quebec City, where around five or six people are working on assembling the first car. We also work with EP9, a friend of ours who builds Porsche 964 and 993 restomods.

We have a dealer partnership in Europe with One Off House and are working with Retro 9 North for our Dubai launch. Our advisers include people with experience at major automotive companies, including Alex Lee, the former CEO of Singer, and a former BMW CFO.

The team is spread across different countries and time zones, but everyone brings specialist knowledge to the project.

The car will inevitably remind people of the original Porsche 911. Do you want to establish an identity of your own, rather than have it remembered as a modern recreation of that car?

We're quite opposed to the restomod movement in one important sense. Restomods can imply that the golden age of driving has already passed, that we'll never build another great driver's car, and that the only option is to copy the past.

We don't believe that. We believe electric power can be as enjoyable as combustion, and potentially better in some respects. We're optimistic about technology.

Our car might look and feel reminiscent of the past because of its minimalist design and other characteristics, but we aren't trying to replicate it.

We have carbon-fiber structures and modern materials that can help make these shapes safer and lighter. That's technology enabling us to create something that captures the emotional connection of an earlier era without simply copying it.

The great cars of the 1960s were groundbreaking when they first appeared. They were like spaceships to the people who saw them. Their creators were innovators, and we believe we should be innovators, too.

We can borrow from the past, but we shouldn't simply declare it the greatest era ever and stop trying to improve on it.

Is there anything else you'd like to add about the car or the company?

The broader point is that we want to create something different from what's already available. We love the past, but we don't believe nostalgia should prevent us from moving forward.

We want to combine the emotional appeal and engagement of classic sports cars with modern materials, technology, and engineering. At the same time, we're trying to build a community that goes beyond the small group of people who can afford the first car.

The Thunderbolt is the first step. What we learn from building it will influence the vehicles and experiences we create in the future.

Source: Oilstainlab