Blit Spirit

An alien presence in rural Yorkshire.


Our typical Sunday morning walk involves a drive long enough to warm the vitals through, but short enough to get back home quickly, should the capricious Yorkshire weather intervene. We drive through farmland and on to a pretty village where, if it weren’t for the hourly strike of the church clock, time might have stood still for decades.

The automotive  population of the village usually comprises the inevitable assortment of SUVs, so mundane and commonplace as not to warrant a second glance. Today, however, an arresting sight met my eyes in the riverside parking area, an alien presence that had crossed both time and space to land in this rural idyll. The object of my fixation was a Toyota Blit.

That name, dear reader, is not a typographical error made by your author and overlooked by our esteemed editor. For reasons best (perhaps only) known to the inscrutable denizens of Toyota City, the ‘z’ was dropped from the putative title, possibly to avoid upsetting the denizens of Rüsselsheim. Even more puzzling, its full title was Mark II Blit, which is inexplicable as there never existed a Mark I of the same name.

I reached for my phone to record the alien presence, only to find my pocket empty of said device which was, at that moment, recharging  in our kitchen. Drat! Who would believe me without the photographic evidence to back up such an implausible tale? Our walk was, predictably, accompanied by torrential rain, and the Blit had vanished by the time we returned, making me wonder momentarily if I had simply imagined its presence. Once home and dry, I was determined to find out more, so I turned to the repository of all fact (and, increasingly, fiction) that is the Internet.

The Blit was one of those strange JDM(1) models that exist to fill some perceived micro-niche not adequately served by the company’s more mainstream offerings. It was a rare, if not unique, UK sighting, being officially sold only in Japan, albeit with penny numbers sneaking into Australia, Russia and certain African countries. It was unusual in retaining rear-wheel-drive, some sixteen years after the similarly sized Camry had made the switch to being pulled rather than pushed.


Made over a five-year period from 2002 to 2007 at Toyota’s Motomachi plant, the Blit came only as a station wagon, although the element that made it so looked something of an afterthought, being perched rather incongruously out back. It was 4,775mm long, 1,760mm wide and 1,470mm high, with a  wheelbase of 2,480mm. The Blit’s kerb-weight averaged around 1,550kg across the three variants offered. In typical Toyota fashion, the Blit majored on practicality and functionality, with room for five plus their luggage. Its styling was typical contemporary Toyota, albeit with hints of Volvo at the rear and a front end that pre-dated and predicted the 2009 Mercedes-Benz W212 E-Class.

Atypically for a Toyoya station wagon, the Blit featured the 2,491cc turbocharged inline six-cylinder engine more usually associated with the contemporary Supra sports car. In factory form, it produced either 197 or 276bhp (147 or 206kW). However, the engine’s potential for serious tuning and some preposterously large power outputs meant that the Blit could be turned into quite the wolf in sheep’s clothing, with only the zingy, fruity sounding exhaust note to give the game away, a perfect sleeper on the public road. Four-wheel-drive was an option but, disappointingly, not with the most powerful engine. One could also buy an entry-level Blit, still with an inline-six engine, but with a capacity of 1,988cc and power output of 158bhp (118kW) .

The Blit replaced the Mark II Qualis(2), a front-engined, FWD Camry-derived station wagon. The Blit was based on the ninth-generation MkII saloon RWD chassis, which debuted on the millennium. Suspension was double wishbones all round with self-levelling shock absorbers beneath that cavernous stern.


Available in white, silver, pale grey, deep magenta, navy, black and a butterscotch-leaning  gold colour, any hue made this irrepressible estate stand out from the crowd. The interior featured leather trim, a sporting four-dial dash, three-spoke steering wheel, four or five-speed automatic dependent on trim level, aluminium pedals, three different alloy wheel styles in four different sizes, front and rear cupholders, a 12V socket in the cargo area and a high-end hi-fi.

The grille carried a different badge to Toyota’s usual intertwined ellipses, a silver and blue shield containing a star. Devoid of this badge (as many tuners removed them), the grille aped SAAB’s and the headlamps might have been shared with the Swedish automaker’s unfortunate Cadillac BLS model.

Shelling out extra Yen at the dealership could garnish your Blit with aerodynamic addenda in the form of either the Aero Sports Package or the more esoteric sounding ‘Aero Parts Set Type A’. The former added skirts to the lower bodysides, the latter made them ever-so slightly more aggressive. Both packages also added either faux mahogany or a metallic finish to dashboard and gear lever, rear cargo area scuff plates and sportier patterned passenger cabin floor mats. One could also specify the ‘Fortuna’ trim package, which featured a sculpted front air dam and a different wheel design.

A customiser’s delight. Image:

Seen through wind-burnt and rain-soaked eyes, the Blit your author witnessed was most definitely white with the Aero Sports Package trim. Naturally, what first caught my eye was that distinctive C-Pillar. Shark-fin sharp, it assists in squaring off the tail as it tapers outward down towards the rear wheels. Beautiful is too strong an adjective here: robustly functional or charismatically chiselled might instead do the trick. Plain weird might sum up the Blit seen through different eyes, but I think the rakish jib lends it an overtly edgy aspect. Over-egging the pudding? Would a manufacturer be tempted to try this sort of thing today, when children ask “What’s an estate car, mummy?”

The rear end is a blend of Ford’s Mondeo Mk3 and contemporary Volvo estate, with its vertical brake lights and integral rear spoiler. Clean-cut will suffice here. Then, to the least appealing angle, the Blit’s front end. Wearing lamps that could’ve been the result of painful and inept facial surgery, one would have thought that the Blit’s unfortunate visage might have given certain Stuttgart-based designers pause for thought a few years later. Apparently not.

Should you be able to get past those (frontal, certainly) looks, you have quite the machine; rare, purposeful and possessing a startlingly silly name. While this Japanese brand of lightning probably won’t strike twice in my neighbourhood, it was enlightening to have seen it even just once. Has anyone else captured a Blit in the wild?


(1) Japanese Domestic Market (only).

(2) No, there wasn’t a Mark I Qualis either.

Author: Andrew Miles

Beyond hope there lie dreams; after those, custard creams?

16 thoughts on “Blit Spirit”

  1. Amazing – and you’re very lucky to have seen one, Andrew.

    The Blit is apparently related to the Verossa and Mark X. Me neither. They are, if anything, even weirder.

    1. Oops – that hasn’t worked. It was meant to be an ad showing the Verossa. Mind you, its probably a blessing in disguise…

  2. Never seen one. But I want a mark II saloon now. In line six, rear wheel drive, double wishbones. Too bad it has cupholders.

    1. I have never used cupholder for its intended purpose as I don’t drink beverages while driving. Does that make me very unusual?

    2. The only use I ever found for cupholders was in my Audi B6 and my wife’s Golf Mk4 where the cup holders sit very high in the dashboard as a kind of drawer.
      I use an empty peanuts can, fill it with (unused) cat litter and glue the suction cup of a mobile sat-nav to it. Then put the can into the cup holder – hey presto, a very stable sat nav that doesn’t block the view out of the windscreen but is perfectly visible!

    3. Hi Dave. That sounds like a very good idea. Whenever I rent a car in the US, the mobile sat-nav doesn’t come with a suction cup but a heavy ‘sack’ with a high-grip covering that you can plonk anywhere on the top of the dashboard and it stays perfectly in place. (I prefer a dedicated sat-nav over an app on my smartphone because they’re easier to use in my experience.)

    4. I remember a ‘coke can holder’ in the dash of a Transit, which was invaluable if driving through the night. With rubber floor mats, it mattered not if you were to spill some of your beverage…

  3. Good morning Andrew, and well spotted. Apart from the awkward rear glasshouse, I rather like it, even the front end, which manages to look less fussy and forced than the Mercedes-Benz W212 E-Class. Given that it was built only as an estate, I wonder why the DLO was done that way? Perhaps the doors were borrowed from a similarly sized Toyota saloon such as the Camry?

  4. I have a feeling that in Europe, cup holders are rarely used for the intended purpose.
    Mine always carry an assortment of keys plus a smartphone.

  5. Afternoon Andrew. An excellent find and an interesting article to boot! I agree about the W212 E Class face lift – what are they thinking of?

  6. Ah, Japanese domestic cars… such a treasure trove of unique and interesting models. I have never seen a Blit, but any JDM car spot is a joy so I’m a little jealous – though not of the weather… The Blit is the estate sibling of the regular Mark II (which began life as the Corona Mark II), hence the DLO. Why the frontal aspect was changed, I don’t know, though. The Mark II’s looks blander (did I answer my own question there?) but better resolved:

    The variation in design is quite staggering too, this next car looks to me like a Mazda 929 (known as Luce in its homeland), but it is a forebear of the Mark II shown above, though marketed as Cressida abroad. And that’s just scratching the surface of models and their designations.

    The 929/Luce for comparison:

    In good Japanese tradition, there was also a ‘hardtop sedan’ of the 929, which to me looks like the result of a Volvo and a Mitsubishi meeting up, getting really drunk and doing the nasty:

    The Mark II was succeeded by the Mark X. Somehow Toyota found it profitable to produce a bespoke architecture (it is not even used in Lexus models) for Japan only, up to 2019:

    1. Mk II and Mk X? Was Toyota making some sort of oblique tribute to Browns Lane?

    2. According to, yes! Well, more or less: the original Mark II was a variation on the existing Corona (and a competitor to delightful cars like the Datsun 510 and Isuzu Florian) and Toyota followed the British naming convention for remodeled or upgrade cars, much like the Jag MkII. Mark X probably refers to the platform underpinning it, the ‘X’ platform.

      The original is nice, too (not that I’m using this as an excuse to post pictures, mind…):

      In that inimitable Japanese system of diverse dealership chains for the same marque operating in parallel, the Mark II was only sold in ‘Toyopet’ stores. I’ve been reading about this system for some time now, but don’t fully understand it. Maybe fodder for an article, or perhaps one of the more traveled commenters (that would be pretty much everyone, then) have first hand experience?

    1. I have seen some Crown Athlete wagons (another strange name…) which are a lot more boxy and built 1999-2003 or so, and some of the Mark II sedan versions of these, but never a Blit. One thing these JDM cars have in common is they are narrower than what you would expect for the size.

      Toyota once had 5 dealership networks (channels), apparently they are consolidating them, but that explains why there are so many similarly-sized cars.

  7. Wow, a great find Andrew. I’ve never seen one. I kind of like the ugliness of it. Six cylinder engine a rear wheel drive, a match made in heaven. Very interesting article Andrew, thank you. 👍🏻

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: