Let’s talk about the 1980s. Big hair. Big shoulders. Big, unapologetic geometric shapes in everything from architecture to toasters. And cars? They looked like someone had taken a drawing of a normal vehicle and then told a six-year-old with a ruler to “make it more exciting.”

Out of this beautiful, boxy chaos came the Nissan Exa. A car so of its time that looking at one now is like sniffing an old potpourri sachet – instantly, you’re back in the era of cassette tapes, fluorescent socks, and petrol for under a rand.

But here’s the thing about the Exa in South Africa. It wasn’t just a wedge on wheels. It was Nissan’s attempt to sell us a slice of affordable sportiness. A coupe for the people. And while it may not have set the sales charts on fire back then, in 2026, spotting one on the road is like finding a 20-year-old packet of Ouma Rusks in your grandmother’s pantry – unexpected, slightly baffling, and oddly delightful.

So, let’s take a drive down memory lane and celebrate the little Nissan wedge that could. Sort of.

The Exa: What Were We Looking At?

For the uninitiated (which is most of you, because there are probably only twelve left on the road), the Nissan Exa was a small, front-wheel-drive coupe produced in the mid-to-late 1980s. In Japan, it was the Pulsar EXA. In North America, they got it as the Pulsar NX. And in South Africa? We called it the Nissan Langley EXA.

Why Langley? Good question. Probably because car companies in the 80s thought giving models vaguely aristocratic English names made them sound more sophisticated. It didn’t, but we bought into it anyway, alongside the Leyland and the Kent and other places in England nobody had ever visited.

The Exa was Nissan’s idea of an “everyman’s sports car”. It had the looks – that low, sharp nose, the pop-up headlights (pop-up headlights! The 80s equivalent of a teenager discovering eyeliner), and a rear end that looked like it was designed using nothing but a set square. It was aerodynamic, futuristic, and looked like it was doing 200km/h while parked outside your local OK Bazaars.

But underneath all that aggressive styling, it was a bit of a sheep in wolf’s clothing. It was practical, economical, and, as one observer put it, “didn’t really pack much ‘sport’ underneath”. It was the automotive equivalent of a guy in a leather jacket who turns out to be an accountant. Nice, dependable, but not exactly a rebel.

The South African Experience: Riaan Cruywagen on Wheels?

To understand the Exa’s place in the South African psyche, you have to understand what Nissans meant to us in the 80s and 90s. In a 2010 Mail & Guardian article, a writer perfectly summed up the era’s brand perception by saying that Nissans of that time were about as exciting as “Riaan Cruywagen reading the news”. Ouch. But fair.

They were “perfectly decent, honest and reliable cars,” he admits. And that was the problem. The Exa was supposed to be the exciting one, the stylish rebel in a lineup that included the boxy Sentra and the forgettable Sabre. It had the looks, the name, and the pop-up headlights. It should have been a hit with the young, hip crowd wanting to cruise down to the beachfront.

But did the South African public really buy it? Not in huge numbers, if the current scarcity is anything to go by. The Exa, for all its flamboyant styling, was still a Nissan underneath, and that came with a certain… sensible baggage. It was competing against the likes of the Toyota Corolla coupe, the Opel Kadett GSE, and the VW Golf. These were cars that had either the performance or the grassroots following to back up their looks. The Exa, charming as it was, was seen by many as style over substance.

It also didn’t help that it was front-wheel drive. In a market that was slowly being weaned off the idea that a sporty car needed to be rear-wheel drive, the Exa was a taste of things to come, but for the purists back then, it was a bit of a letdown. It cornered well, it was efficient, and it was comfortable. But it didn’t have the tail-happy antics of an old-school Datsun 1200 GX. It was sensible. And sensible is rarely the stuff of legend.

The Cult of the Exa: Why We Love It Now

Fast forward to 2026. The Exa is gone, but not forgotten. A car that was never a massive success in its day has become a cult icon. Why?

Firstly, nostalgia. For a generation of South Africans, the Exa was the poster car on their bedroom wall. It was the future, as imagined by people who thought everything in the future would be made of triangles. Seeing one now is a powerful hit of 80s nostalgia, a reminder of a time when cars had character and designers were allowed to be weird.

Secondly, rarity. These things are insanely rare now. The ones that haven’t rusted away or been used as chicken coops are lovingly preserved by a small but dedicated band of enthusiasts. Finding one at a car show is a major event. It’s not a Skyline or a 240Z, but it’s a piece of our local motoring heritage.

Thirdly, it’s just so wonderfully odd. In a world of identikit crossovers, the Exa stands out. It’s a wedge. A triangle. A geometric anomaly. It’s the kind of car that makes people point and ask, “What on earth is that?” And for the owner, that’s the whole point.

The Verdict: A Lovable Misfit

The Nissan Exa wasn’t the fastest, the most powerful, or the most successful car Nissan ever sold in South Africa. It was a bit of a misfit, a stylish coupe with the heart of a family hatchback. It was, in the words of one observer, a car that “looks like what the designers originally had in mind,” whereas its more practical siblings appeared “a tad naked”. It was the bold, unapologetic vision of a design team, before the accountants and marketers got involved and watered it down.

And that’s precisely why we love it today. It’s a time capsule. A beautifully preserved artifact from an era when car design was adventurous and weird. It’s a reminder that you don’t need 300kW to have fun, and that a car’s personality can’t be measured on a spec sheet.

If you see a Nissan Langley EXA at a cars and coffee or on a Sunday drive, stop and admire it. It’s a survivor. A piece of South African motoring history that’s wedged itself into a small but special place in our hearts.

And if you own one? You’re not just driving a car. You’re keeping the 80s alive, one pop-up headlight at a time.