GAC LA studio's Baja-inspired concept

At first glance, GAC Advanced Design Center Los Angeles’ latest concept for sub-brand Hyptec doesn’t fit the mould of the high-tech hypercar or the overtly nostalgic restomod. Instead, it’s an off-road-capable sports car with mid-engine proportions, a stripped-back design language, and cultural cues lifted from California’s varied car scene.

The project was treated as a “passion project” rather than a traditional brand commission. According to the studio’s head of design, Pontus Fontaeus, the goal was to reflect the realities of how people in the region modify and use their vehicles — not to create another abstract showpiece. The reason? The studio is celebrating seven years of existence, a lucky number in Chinese culture, and a good excuse to go off-piste.

“People are tired of hybrids, overpowered sports cars, and hypercars,” adds exterior chief Martin Amazarian. “Here in California you see unique modified cars — some built by OEMs, some by companies like Singer, and plenty by individuals. That culture was the starting point.”

The concept builds on the proportions of the earlier Enpulse sports car, which itself evolved into the production SSR model. The design team saw an opportunity to develop a “what-if” variant: a rally-capable, lifestyle-driven version that could plausibly exist alongside the production car. “I want to build it!” says Fontaeus.

The team points to Baja racing, California’s desert and mountain recreation areas, and the DIY “Safari 911” scene as key influences. That inspiration informed practical modifications: shorter overhangs for better approach and departure angles, a functional roof rack, and protective bodywork that avoids the usual oversized off-road clichés.

The proportions remain distinctly mid-engined, with a low stance and wide track that recall the Lancia Stratos. The similarity isn’t accidental, says Fontaeus: “The Stratos wasn’t a production car converted for rally. It was designed with that purpose from the start. That’s the link here — a low-slung sports car adapted for rough terrain.”

While the overall stance is familiar from the SSR, the front and rear have been reworked for off-road use. The bumpers are more robust but visually clean, the lighting has a rally-inspired graphic, and functional additions — like the spare-wheel rack — are integrated into the body rather than appearing as afterthoughts.

A large ducktail spoiler forms the most overt styling gesture. It ties back to earlier projects, including the ENO.146 and Enpulse, reinforcing the wedge-shaped profile. At the rear, the bodywork is pared back to emphasise width and mechanical exposure.

The team’s approach allowed for experimentation. Fontaeus proposed adding mud flaps — they were removed after team feedback. “We encourage debate,” he says. “Sometimes my ideas get dropped, sometimes others do. It works both ways.”

Visual details on the livery include a cactus mascot “Mr. Pincho” motif and a “Lucky Seven” side graphic referencing the Mexican flag colours, a nod to the market and culture that informed the project. It’s also a cheeky nod to Raymond Loewy’s Lucky Strike cigarette brand graphics. There are further references to iconic liveries of the past: the Marlboro chevron of 1972 Formula 1, Martini Racing’s legendary stripes on the 1971 Porsche 917, and the bold colours of Alitalia’s rally machines. The “EVNONOIL” slogan riffs on Pennzoil’s Liberty Bell. Here, Fontaeus worked closely with long-standing colleague Yichan Chung, chief visual and communications creative. 

Moving inside, interior lead Taeho Kim describes the cabin as “authentic and purposeful,” avoiding over-styled elements while incorporating structural motifs. A visible roll cage, carried over from Baja vehicles, is expressed as a double-tube framework running through the console, roof, and door structures.

The team retained the SSR’s structural DNA but adapted it with functional and cultural cues: a fire extinguisher mounted within easy reach, textile patterns inspired by Mexican crafts, and mounts for action cameras on each corner of the roof.

Durability guided the choice of finishes, but there’s also a degree of refinement. Surfaces are tactile and the controls are direct, supporting the “ready for use” ethos. The overall effect is minimalist, with materials doing most of the visual work rather than elaborate forms or bright interfaces.

The CMF strategy, led by Fontaeus and Chung, anchored the concept in its regional setting. The palette draws from the surrounding desert, coast, and mountain terrain — sandy neutrals, muted greens, deep blues — paired with textured fabrics, matte metals, and untreated leathers.

The intent, says Fontaeus, was to avoid generic “off-road” tropes while giving the car a direct visual link to its environment. The result is a subdued but distinctive finish that complements the functional form language.

The studio describes itself as a “SWAT team” of 16, with little separation between disciplines. Modellers also contribute to design decisions; exterior designers weigh in on colour and material choices. That collaborative approach extends to the project’s digital development. While much of the modelling was done in Alias, the team also used Blender and, increasingly, AI-assisted tools to speed up visualisation and iteration.

“Two years ago, we couldn’t achieve this kind of result without a huge budget and timescale,” says Sean, a visual designer who also has a filmmaking background. “AI helps, but the design still has to be strong first.”

Sean’s role was to shape the presentation, creating a high-production-value film that places the car in the settings that inspired it — desert trails, coastal roads, mountain tracks, and, of course, Los Angeles’ famous storm drains — to embed the car in its context and lifestyle positioning.

However outlandish the project may first appear, Fontaeus’ team prioritised plausibility over fantasy — creating something that could be built and used as intended.

Even as a digital concept, the vehicle was designed with real-world feasibility in mind. The team considered off-road racing regulations, structural requirements and packaging constraints, treating the virtual model as if it were destined for production.

The project sits between two worlds: it’s a studio-led concept with no immediate production plan, yet it’s intended to be believable enough to exist in the real automotive landscape. Its design language borrows equally from motorsport, off-road culture and road-legal sports cars, aiming to appeal to a demographic that values experience and individuality over outright performance metrics.

The off-road concept is less a statement about the company’s future product direction than an exploration of what happens when a design studio embeds itself in the culture around it.

The result is neither a nostalgia piece nor a technology showcase, but a deliberately grounded take on a segment often dominated by extremes. Its form language, material palette and proportions are tuned to a specific environment and way of life — one that the team lives and understands first-hand.

Whether or not it ever reaches production, the concept underscores the value of design work that is both culturally literate and technically credible. In an industry often split between heritage revival and speculative futurism, that’s a position worth noting.