Franz von Holzhausen included with his entry in the big Solstice sketch-off a drawing of a coupe version, which he believes helped tip Bob Lutz’s hat in his favor. But Pontiac didn’t plan to build the coupe until the last second—and only decided to show it next to the roadster at Detroit after Lutz, on his way home from a business trip, saw the full-size foam being used in an ad shoot at GM’s executive hangar. (Photo by Richard Watson)

Sound dramatic? Perhaps, but consider: It took just 15 weeks for Solstice to travel from concept to reality. In that time the team responsible for the car heralded a new direction, not only in how future Pontiacs will look but in how they'll get to look that way.

 

PONTIAC SOLSTICE PHOTO GALLERY

"We didn't automatically assume that the Solstice would be everyone's idea of the perfect two-seat roadster," says Mike Lyons, manager of special projects at Pontiac. "What we did, though, is something that General Motors has not historically been very good at, and that is creating a design and putting it out there without watering it down or playing it safe or looking for the best way to please the most people."

This unapologetic attitude starts at the top with GM's new North American chairman and chief product preacher, Robert A. Lutz. Think of the Solstice as Lutz's vision for GM, incarnate. How he intends to turn GM around is revealed in the story of how the Solstice came to be.

UNDERSTAND FIRST WHAT THE CAR is. Take a close look. Conspicuously absent is any sign of cladding, the hallmark of Pontiac design for nigh on two decades. No cladding, no ribbing, no "complex, snaggle-fanged 'transformer robot' execution," as Lutz describes previous Pontiac concepts. Instead it relies on simplicity of form, an uncluttered skin wrapped over a distinct roadster shape with few superfluous design cues.

"We wanted to make this thing inexcessive in every way," says Franz von Holzhausen, chief designer at GM's California Design Center and the artist responsible for penning Solstice. "We wanted to make sure the proportions were correct, the overhangs were short but somehow believable and just tried to keep it as clean as possible."

"Franz's sketch had that chunky, pent-up energy, that lean, taut muscles look that a good sports car should have. And it was clean," says Lutz. "Solstice is a predictor for Pontiac design in the '04 to '05 time period: beautiful proportion, clean, lithe lines with European-inspired ride and handling balance."

 

Many of Solstice’s components came from the GM parts bin, including the 2.2-liter Ecotec four-cylinder, borrowed from the Saturn L-Series. (Photo by Richard Watson)

The recipe for Solstice reads like a GM parts catalog. Under its lithe lines lies a highly modified version of GM's Delta platform, spliced with chunks of J-car and adapted as a rear-driver. Its four-wheel discs come from Cadillac CTS, stopping 19-inch front and 20-inch rear alloy wheels. A metal-matrix driveshaft similar to the Firebird's turns in a rear differential center section borrowed from TrailBlazer.

Its independent rear suspension comes from Aztek, with a strut layout up front. The steering gear is taken from the Subaru Impreza WRX, while the radiator (with a slightly thicker core), antilock brake system and steering column are from Sunfire. Underhood, the Solstice uses the 2.2-liter Ecotec four-cylinder found in the Saturn L-Series, supercharged to 240 horsepower and 225 lb-ft of torque. That power transfers to its 255/35R rear Michelin Sports via a six-speed manual transmission and bellhousing lifted from the Corvette, which attaches to the engine using a custom flange section.

"What we were trying to do with all this was to mimic what production components would be like, so that if we did take the car to production we would not have to use string and bubble gum to hold the car together," says Lyons.

And he should know. Lyons has been a race car builder and racer for 25 years. His current racer is a 2002 Chevy Cavalier-converted to rear-drive for drag racing. Experience with his own car helped him figure out how to build Solstice.

It helped to have a lot of parts on hand that the engineers could assemble quickly into a running car, given the timeframe within which they had to work.

"It normally takes an auto manufacturer six or eight months to build a concept car if it's very fast," says Lyons. It took Pontiac less than four. "By December we had all of the componentry and just worked 24-hour days for three weeks until the car was done. We finished it at six o'clock in the morning, trucked it over to [the Detroit show] and Lutz drove it out at noon."

SOUND SIMPLE? THINK AGAIN. Working on the Solstice "was fantastic, but it almost killed me at the same time," says von Holzhausen. "I thought, how are we going to get a production-feeling car, in sheetmetal and running for the auto show? It seemed like an insurmountable task. It didn't just happen sketch, car, boom, out the door." That it finally did roll onto the show floor speaks to Lutz's ability to get things done in a company known for its endless bureaucracy-and to get people excited along the way.

 

If there was a mantra chanted during Solstice’s conception in GM’s California Design Center, it was “Keep it clean.” That philosophy continued on the interior, where senior designer Vicki Vlachakis kept switchgear to a minimum and resisted layering “shape on top of shape.”

When Lutz joined GM last September, he knew what he wanted: He wanted Pontiac to have a roadster to show at Detroit. It would have a front-mounted engine and rear-wheel drive-and it would run. A cross-company sketch-off ensued, and Lutz handpicked von Holzhausen's designs. Then Lutz himself went to work.

He cleared the way for the engineers to engineer and the designers to design. He let people question the norms. And he trusted folks like Lyons and von Holzhausen to do their jobs freely and in the best way they saw fit. In other words, Lutz broke just about every rule in the GM playbook.

"Does that mean we operated outside of the law? Absolutely not," says Lyons, "because that's anarchy. What we did, with Lutz's support, is question why it has always been done this way before. And when the answer didn't make sense, we didn't do it that way.

"In racing sometimes the worst position to be in is first, because you worry more about protecting your lead than you do about winning," says Lyons. "And that's the mode that General Motors got into. I think GM became very concerned about protecting what it had and not being aggressive and fresh and new and vibrant. And when you get into that situation, you get exactly what you're trying to get, and that's very safe, very predictable, very boring product."

With Solstice, however, GM has rolled out perhaps the most inspiring vision of itself we've seen in a long time.

IT MAY BE A STRETCH TO CALL LUTZ the savior of GM, though there will be those who call him exactly that. After all, he has established a bit of a track record in the rescuing business. He helped a struggling Chrysler Corp. revitalize its public image by championing projects like the Dodge Viper and PT Cruiser. He even once helped steer a student pilot in trouble to a safe landing at Chrysler's Chelsea, Michigan, proving grounds while out flying his own airplane. Whether he can steer GM back on track remains to be seen.

What we do know is this: Lutz creates his own excitement. He commands trust. Wherever GM goes, whatever happens to it, what's important is that the folks who care about GM believe he can make things happen.

 

The Solstice works on many fronts, but it may be more important than just a single car: The way it came together represents a new way of doing things at GM.

"He didn't consider [Solstice] his baby. We did," says Lyons. "What Lutz wanted was a means of showing the public at large that he was going to make things happen at General Motors quickly, that he was going to challenge the conventional wisdom and put people on to go beyond what they were used to doing. And we got excited."

That excitement-Pontiac excitement, if you will-shows in the end product.

"This was more than a toy. The message we wanted to send the public and the automotive press was that Pontiac understands that body cladding is over. But we also want you to know that Pontiac still knows what excitement is. And so the Solstice is a view into the direction that Pontiac is heading, and there are many, many more things behind it to come."