Every millimeter of this expansion is steel—no fibreglass shortcuts
In the long tradition of craftsmen who refuse to accept what a thing is assumed to be, Kirk Schmidt spent four years transforming a forgotten 1989 Nissan Silvia S13 into something that quietly redefines what the nameplate can mean. Unveiled at MotorEx 2026 in Australia, the car arrived not as a spectacle of excess but as a meditation on restraint — hand-shaped steel, matched leather, and a considered palette chosen over the obvious. It is a reminder that the most subversive act in any culture is sometimes simply to care more than anyone expected.
- The S13 Silvia has long been dismissed as Australia's disposable drift car — cheap, patched, and perpetually underestimated — and Schmidt set out to dismantle that reputation entirely.
- What began as a routine engine swap unraveled into a four-year obsession the moment Schmidt noticed paint runs he couldn't ignore, pulling him deeper into a project with no obvious ceiling.
- Every panel of the widebody conversion — 75mm up front, 150mm at the rear — was hand-shaped in steel by coachwork specialists Rude Glory, refusing the fibreglass shortcuts that define most builds of this kind.
- A tuned SR20DET producing 400 horsepower sits in a stripped-back engine bay, with 600hp available if Schmidt ever turns the boost up after the show circuit ends.
- The car has not yet turned a wheel in anger — wrapped in show condition and awaiting PPF protection — but its debut at MotorEx signals that the build has already landed as a benchmark.
Kirk Schmidt pulled the cover from his 1989 Nissan Silvia S13 at MotorEx 2026, and what appeared bore little resemblance to the car the nameplate usually conjures. In Australian car culture, the S13 has long occupied a particular place — affordable, expendable, endlessly recycled through drift builds and fibreglass repairs. Schmidt's car arrives as a quiet argument against all of that.
It started without promise: a non-turbo CA18 automatic, the kind that fills used car lots. Schmidt bought it four years ago intending a simple engine swap, but a closer look revealed paint runs he couldn't unsee. The project expanded from there, and kept expanding. The widebody conversion stretches 75mm at the front and 150mm at the rear, every millimeter formed in steel by Rude Glory, a shop working in traditional coachwork techniques. No fibreglass, no bolt-ons — just hand-shaped metal wearing a Nismo-style kit with aluminum sideskirts and a matching front lip.
The CA18 is long gone. An SR20DET now sits in a stripped engine bay, fed by a G30-725 turbo, twin cams, and a Plazmaman plenum, managed by a Haltech ECU. Schmidt puts current output at 400 horsepower, with 600 available when the boost is turned up. The color scheme — Land Rover Grasmere Green over Corris Grey — was chosen over the obvious Seafoam Green of early S13s, giving the car a more considered, restrained presence. Inside, hand-matched tweed leather runs through the entire cabin, anchored by Bride bucket seats.
The car hasn't been driven yet. Once the show circuit concludes, Schmidt plans to PPF wrap it and finally put it on the road — the moment a four-year obsession with craft and coordination becomes something lived rather than displayed.
Kirk Schmidt pulled the cover off his 1989 Nissan Silvia S13 at MotorEx 2026 yesterday, and the car that emerged looked like nothing most people have ever seen wearing that nameplate. For years, the S13 has been the punchline in Australian car culture—cheap entry points for drift builds, held together with cable ties and fibreglass, their panels replaced so many times nobody remembers what came before. Schmidt's machine breaks that mold entirely.
The car started as something unremarkable: a non-turbocharged CA18 automatic, the kind of Silvia that fills used car lots. Four years ago, Schmidt bought it fresh off a respray, planning a simple engine swap. But once he really looked at it, he saw paint runs he couldn't unsee. The project snowballed. What emerged is a study in restraint and craft that sits alongside some of the country's finest custom builds.
The widebody work is where the obsession becomes visible. The front track stretches 75 millimeters wider than factory spec. The rear goes 150 millimeters. The arch heights were raised to accommodate the lower stance on 17-inch wheels. Every millimeter of this expansion is steel—no fibreglass shortcuts, no bolt-on panels. Rude Glory, a shop specializing in custom metal reshaping, shaped every guard by hand using coachwork techniques that predate modern fabrication. The finished product wears a Nismo-style bodykit with aluminum sideskirts that are prototype-width pieces, paired with a matching front lip. Airbags allow the car to sit as low as the geometry permits.
Under the hood, the CA18 is gone. In its place sits an SR20DET, the engine that made the Silvia famous in the first place. This one carries a pair of cams, a G30-725 turbo, a Plazmaman plenum, and enough supporting modifications that Schmidt estimates it's good for 400 horsepower now. Turn the boost up, he says, and it should reach 600. The engine bay was stripped back as far as function allows, creating the visual impression of emptiness even though everything here works. A Haltech ECU manages the whole affair.
The color tells its own story. Schmidt kept the original two-tone concept but rejected the hero Seafoam Green that came on early S13s. Instead, he chose Land Rover Grasmere Green for the upper body and Land Rover Corris Grey for the lower, a pairing that gives the car a different kind of presence—more restrained, more considered. Inside, Bride bucket seats anchor an interior that's been retrimmed to a standard rarely attempted on an S13. Schmidt wanted tweed, so he sourced leather that matched the pattern and worked it into the whole cabin, a detail that speaks to the level of coordination running through every decision.
The car is not yet driven. Schmidt plans to wrap it in paint protection film once the show circuit winds down, then finally put it on the road. That's when the real test begins—when a four-year obsession with hand-shaped steel and matched leather finally moves from static display to lived experience. For now, it sits as a statement: that an S13 doesn't have to be a drift missile or a stance platform. It can be something else entirely.
Notable Quotes
I have never seen an S Chassis modified like this, as they're usually drift or stance oriented. The whole car is steel, there's no fibreglass for any of the body, all the guards are hand shaped using coachworks techniques.— Kirk Schmidt
We stripped the engine bay back as best as we could to try and make it look like it was empty, but it's obviously still a functional engine.— Kirk Schmidt
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
What made you decide to take a car everyone treats as disposable and spend four years on it?
I didn't set out to do that. I bought it thinking I'd swap the engine and move on. But once I started really looking at the paint, at the details, I couldn't unsee the imperfections. It became about doing it right.
Right, but right according to what? There's no template for this kind of S13.
That's the point. Everyone builds these cars one way—drift, stance, whatever. I wanted to see what happened if you treated it like a proper restoration, with real metalwork and real materials.
The widebody is 150 millimeters wider in the rear. That's a massive change. How do you even begin that conversation with a fabricator?
You find someone who understands coachwork, not just welding. Rude Glory gets it. They shaped every guard by hand. It's not a kit bolted on; it's the car reshaped.
And the interior—tweed leather that matches. That seems almost obsessive.
It is. But if you're going to do something, why do it halfway? The whole car should feel like one thought.
What happens when you finally drive it?
That's the next chapter. Right now it's a statement. Once it's on the road, it becomes something real.