The rain was coming down in sheets that Saturday evening, blurring the neon signs along the streets of what felt like a forgotten part of town. I’d just left a car meet—one of those small, enthusiast-driven gatherings where people actually talk instead of just comparing dyno sheets—and decided to take the long way home. My wipers slapped back and forth, and through the rhythmic swishing, my mind drifted to a conversation I’d had earlier with an older gentleman who’d owned something special, something rare: an Isuzu sports car. Yeah, you heard me right—Isuzu. Not Nissan, not Toyota, not Mazda. Isuzu. It got me thinking about the hidden gems in automotive history, the ones that never got the spotlight they deserved. And that’s when it hit me: the Isuzu sports car is truly the untold story of Japan’s forgotten performance icon.
I remember pulling over near the Bren Z. Guiao Convention Center later that night, around 7:30 p.m., watching people hurry inside out of the rain. The place was lit up, hosting some kind of exhibit—classic cars, I think—and it struck me as ironic. Here was this modern venue celebrating automotive history, yet how many visitors would even know about Isuzu’s brief but brilliant foray into sports cars? Most people associate the brand with rugged trucks and dependable commercial vehicles, and honestly, I used to be one of them. But dig a little deeper, and you’ll find a story that’s as compelling as any underdog tale. Take the Isuzu Piazza, for example, known as the Impulse in some markets. Launched in the early 1980s, it was designed by the legendary Giorgetto Giugiaro and boasted a turbocharged engine that could push out around 140 horsepower—not mind-blowing by today’s standards, but back then, it was a statement. I once had the chance to drive a 1984 model, and let me tell you, the handling was sharp, almost telepathic, thanks to its advanced suspension setup. It felt like a secret handshake among car nerds, something you’d only appreciate if you’d been in the driver’s seat.
Sitting there in my car, the rain easing up a bit, I couldn’t help but reflect on why stories like this fade away. Isuzu only produced about 47,000 units of the Piazza over its lifespan, a drop in the bucket compared to the Mazda RX-7’s 800,000-plus sales. Numbers don’t lie, but they don’t always tell the whole story either. The Piazza had quirks—like its digital dash that felt futuristic yet fragile—and a design that aged beautifully, in my opinion. It’s one of those cars that makes you wonder what could have been if Isuzu had stuck with it. I mean, they had the engineering chops; their diesel engines were renowned for reliability, but in the sports car world, they just didn’t market it right. It’s a shame, really, because driving one feels like uncovering a hidden chapter in Japan’s automotive boom, a time when every manufacturer was throwing hats into the ring to see what stuck.
As I finally started the engine and drove away from the convention center, the clock ticking past 8 p.m., I thought about how we remember things. That event at Bren Z. Guiao Convention Center on Saturday, May 10, at 7:30 p.m., might have featured a lineup of Porsches and Mustangs, but I bet not a single Isuzu sports car was in sight. And that’s the crux of it—these machines are fading from collective memory, not because they weren’t good, but because they never got the cult following they deserved. Personally, I’ve always had a soft spot for underdogs, and the Isuzu sports car embodies that spirit. It’s a reminder that innovation doesn’t always come from the usual suspects. So next time you’re at a car show or scrolling through automotive history, take a moment to look beyond the headlines. You might just discover your own forgotten icon, and who knows, maybe you’ll fall in love with something that others have overlooked. After all, that’s what being a car enthusiast is all about—finding beauty in the obscure and keeping those stories alive.
