German Cars Archives - CARS // MOTORBIKES

BMW M1

The BMW M1 was race-based, to its beautifully-conceived core. It was made – by BMW Motorsport – as a response to the Porsche 935. BMW’s CSL was by then past its sell-by date – and struggling to keep up with the Porsche. That was in the Group 5 Silhouette series. From BMW’s point of view, the gap needed to be closed – lest race losses lead to the same on the balance-sheet! Cometh the M1 – and its M88 straight-six motor. The M1 was the first BMW roadster to be fitted with this race-bred powerplant. The cast-iron bottom-end was sourced from the BMW parts bin. In every other respect, it comprised state of the art engineering. The 24-valve twin-cam head was chain-driven. The crankshaft was fashioned from forged-steel. The M88 had longer conrods – and a race-derived dry sump. It was fed by Kugelfischer-Bosch indirect injection. The net result was a top speed for the M1 of 161mph. BMW were back on track!

Group 5 homologation made the M1 roadster resemble its racing counterpart – within reason, at least. 400 road-going ‘equivalents’ were required to be built, before the M1 racer be given the keys to the grid. Unfortunately for BMW, by the time the M1 was ready to go racing, the homologation rules had changed! The stipulation now was that 400 cars already have been sold. That threw a giant-sized spanner in the works – since that was liable to take a while, even for a company with the cachet of BMW. By the time it had complied with the new regs – in ’81 – the M1 was no longer competitive! Not at the racetrack, that is. On the road, it was more than a match for most of its rivals. A tubular steel chassis – and mid-engined layout – provided near-perfect handling. The ride was comfort incarnate. Initially, Lamborghini had been asked to design the chassis. Mounting financial woes, though, at the Italian marque, meant BMW sorted their own chassis, in the end. Once done, a 5-speed ZF trans-axle transferred 277bhp to the tarmac. Massive vented disc brakes retarded the M1 with aplomb.

The M1’s looks were overseen by Italdesign. The agency would, however, have been first to acknowledge the debt owed to the BMW Turbo – the prototype by Paul Bracq. Between the pair of them, the M1 was a masterclass in supercar styling. It was built in both Germany and Italy. Indeed, it may be said to have embodied the best of both realms. For all that, a mere 450 M1s were manufactured. A harsh critic, then, might judge it a failure. After all, it was no great shakes, either at circuits, or in showrooms. Saying that, the BMW M1 was still a hugely impressive sports car … which surely smacks more of success than failure!

BMW 507

The BMW 507 was styled by Albrecht von Goertz. He was a German aristocrat – who owned an American industrial design agency. Goertz took the big box-section chassis of the BMW saloon car – and shortened it. The result was a more than tidy 2-seater. The 507 was an unabashed attempt to crack the American glamour market. Post-war, BMW had watched their brand-image slide into mediocrity. It was high time the great German manufacturer raised its profile again. The 507 was supposed to do just that. It was not to be. Only 253 BMW 507s were sold. To all intents and purposes, the 507 was automotive haute couture. But – as in the fashion industry – it costs gargantuan amounts to produce. The Second World War was not long gone. For most motorists, the 507 simply was not affordable.

The 507 got its well-heeled occupants from A to B with a minimum of fuss. Not that it could not push on, if required. Should you have been a tad late for the opera, for instance, a firm brogue on the go pedal would definitely get you there for curtain up. The 3-litre V8 engine gave 160bhp. That translated to 140mph, flat out. 0-60 came up in 9s. The sounds emitted from the 507’s twin rear pipes were music to the ears. Even at speed, its ride was unflustered. Front and rear torsion-bar suspension saw to that.

The 507’s detailing was exquisite. And not just the beautiful BMW badge. The cross-hatched heat-vents were a notable touch. They were matched by the car’s kidney-shaped grille – a trademark BMW feature. The 507’s front-end was almost shark-like – courtesy of its stylishly protruding nose. The long, flowing bonnet-line was complemented by a cute stub-tail. The 507 stayed in production for just four years. Consummately-crafted, it mated motoring and fine art. Ultimately, the 507 cost BMW more than it recouped. But then, what price do you put on perfection?

BMW 2002 Turbo

Sadly, the BMW 2002 Turbo was not a success in the showrooms. To be fair, it never really stood a chance. In ’73, petrol-pump prices almost doubled – because of the OAPEC fuel crisis. Motorists panicked. The 17mpg 2002 Turbo never stood a chance. BMW became very anxious, very quickly! In only the second year of its production run, the 2002 Turbo was dropped. Just 1,672 cars had been built. Bad luck, basically! In different economic circumstances, the car could have been a best-seller.

The 2002 Turbo was inspired by a BMW works racer. Its raison d’être was to breathe life back into BMW’s entry-level saloon car slot. To that end, the Turbo’s top speed stat of 130mph was bang on the automotive money. Peak output was 170bhp. The 2-litre 4-cylinder engine was fuel-injected. And was kitted out with a KKK turbocharger. At low to medium revs, there was little to split the Turbo and standard version 2002. That all changed, though, at 4,500rpm. When the boost kicked in, you knew about it. Thankfully, the Turbo had been prepped for the extra stress. It had beefier driveshafts and bearings than standard. Suspension spring rates were wound up. Bilstein dampers were fitted at the back. Anti-roll bars were fitted, fore and aft. Wheels were fat Mahle alloys – shod with Michelin XWX rubber. The front two were stopped by 4-pot ventilated disc brakes. Big drums brought up the rear.

The Turbo’s gleaming paint-job – and racy decals – dazzled onlookers. Seventies chic, so to speak. The interior, too, was cut from the same glam cloth. Bucket seats were a snug fit. A bright-red instrument fascia focused attention. The turbo-boost gauge sat in the middle of the dash. A thick-rimmed 3-spoke sports steering-wheel topped it all off. Boy racer style, all the way. BMW’s 2002 Turbo was the right car – at the wrong time. Ultimately, it could not get enough of what it needed most. The crippling cost of petrol, at the time, meant it simply could not survive!

Porsche 928

The Porsche 928 was the first front-engined car the firm produced. Up to that point, Porsche motors had been rear-mounted. The exception to that rule was the 924 – though that was almost as much Audi as Porsche. In the Seventies, the 928 was sold as a supercar. Indeed, Porsche were banking on it being the new 911. That was not to be. 911 fans stuck stoicly to what they loved. Porsche took the hint. They started targeting the 928 solely at the GT market.

The landmark front-mounted motor was a 4.5-litre V8. Built in Germany, it was smooth, tractable and beautifully-engineered. But – in some drivers\’ eyes – it had a flaw. It was not a 911! In its first iteration, the 928 pulled a top speed of 143mph. That climbed to 171, in the course of its run. Certainly, not to be sniffed at. But, also not enough to keep up with a 911. Not in a specification race, at any rate! The 928’s gearbox was a 4-speed, rear-mounted manual – or, a 5-speed Mercedes automatic. Output was 240bhp. The 928S upped it to 300.

Styling-wise, the 928 was on solid ground. Its profile, in particular, was pure coupé. The interior, too, was more than impressive. Its most striking feature was the fascia – which visually echoed the steering-wheel. It was a cosseting cabin, in every respect. On top of that, the 928’s ride and handling were never less than reassuring. Over time, there would be S4, GT and GTS versions of the car. Each of them ushered in incremental improvements. The 928, then, was a significant addition to the Porsche roster. Even if, for some, it would never be in the same league as the 911. Saying that, nor would any other car!

Porsche 356

The Porsche 356 was the start of a design dynasty. Ferdinand Porsche opened his studio in ’31. It would be a further fifteen years before the first Porsche production car. When it arrived, it was no coincidence that the 356 was similar to the VW Beetle. Dr Porsche had penned that car, too. The 356’s compact and rounded lines oozed understated charm. In the Fifties, it was the small – but perfectly-formed – 356 which cemented Porsche in the public eye. Right up until ’65, in fact – when the Porsche 911 hit centre stage.

For the first four years, the 956 was manufactured in Austria. It was fitted with a flat-four push-rod engine. Rear-mounted – and topped off with a cute grille – the air-cooled motor kept time in pleasingly pulsating fashion. With a capacity of just 1,100cc, it made a mere 40bhp. Top speed was 87mph – pretty good, considering. Suspension was via trailing-link up front – and high-pivot swing axle at the rear. The gearbox was a 4-speed affair. The 356’s split windscreen was the most notable design flourish.

The Porsche 356A model was released in ’55 – in Germany. Bodywork-wise, it was less rotund than the first version. The new car came with a curved, one-piece screen. Front suspension and steering were revised. A bigger engine had been installed. 1,600cc was a half-litre up on the original. 356 B and C models duly followed. Roadsters, a Karmann coupé, and the Super 75 and Super 90 continued to uprate the technical spec. There was also a 356 Carrera. Indeed, even after the 911 series took over the Porsche reins, the 912 still had a foot in both camps. It was powered by a 356 engine – in a 911 shell. In terms of its legacy, then, the Porsche 356 was pretty pivotal to the Stuttgart marque!

VW Beetle

21,000,000 VW Beetles were built. That makes it the most popular car … ever! Today, of course, the ‘V-Dub’ commands cult status. And – with plenty of scope for customisation – Beetle mania is a hive of creativity. That said, if all you needed from a car was reliability, the Beetle was still the car for you. The designer of the ulimate in automotive utilitarianism was Dr Ferdinand Porsche. Yes, that Dr Porsche! The Beetle was born out of Herr Hitler’s yen for motoring for the masses. Yes, that Herr Hitler! As things turned out, not many Beetles were built before the war. Following it, though, the production floodgate opened. The first Beetle was pretty basic. It came with a non-synchromesh gearbox, cable brakes – and little by way of ornamentation. With hostilities over, however, the US started to catch the V-Dub bug. For starters, it ticked all the second car boxes. It was cheap, dependable, practical and economical. Heck, the Beetle even made a great beach buggy!

The Beetle put out 50bhp from a 1,584cc air-cooled motor. It maxed out at 84mph. Visually – while no oil painting – it was not without allure. Let us say, it had a certain rough-edged charm! Indeed, the Kharmann Ghia – which was based on the Beetle – was really rather pretty. And, the split-rear-screen model – of the early Fifties – was positively voguish!

Enter the ’60s, though, and buyers demanded a more modern driving experience. VW responded by replacing the time-served 1,100cc engine with 1,300 and 1,500cc updates. And, Beetles were now fitted with an all-synchromesh ‘box, disc brakes and semi-automatic transmission. The factory was at Wolfsburg – in Lower Saxony. Not even the Führer could have foreseen the all-conquering heights to which the Beetle’s sales would soar. The second most popular car of all time came courtesy of Henry Ford. The Model T clocked up 15,000,000 sales – 6m shy of its nemesis. It was in the early Seventies that the Beetle outstripped the Model T’s tally. Probably because VW offered it in colours other than black! Its zenith was in the Sixties, after all. Psychedelia – unlike Goth – did not do black!

Audi Quattro

The Audi Quattro was launched in 1980 – at the Geneva Motor Show. It is safe to say that it revolutionised motoring. The Quattro’s state of the art four-wheel drive system pushed roadholding to a new level. Top speed was 142mph. 0-60 took 6.3s. That came courtesy of a turbocharged 2.1-litre 5-cylinder engine. The Quattro’s top-spec output was 220bhp.

The Quattro turned into a truly iconic rally car. For the Audi team’s technicians, its 4-wheel drive set-up was love at first sight! As with the roadster, the increased grip levels significantly upped the competition car’s traction in the rough stuff. Sat between the road and rally cars was the Sport Quattro – a 2-seater ‘homologation special’. It was fitted with a 300bhp motor. The Sport’s shortened wheelbase meant it handled even better than the standard Quattro. It retailed at three times the price of the base model. Still, a top speed of 155mph made it more than tempting!

When Audi announced they were pulling the plug on the Quattro, there was uproar. So, Audi succumbed to the pressure – and production continued until ’91. Not just rally fans, but motorists too had fallen in love with the car. They had taken to four-wheel drive like … well, like a rally driver to water. The Audi Quattro’s remarkable tally of wins said it all!

NSU Ro80

The NSU Ro80’s styling was ahead of its time. At first glance, the masses of glass seemed straight out of science-fiction. Closer inspection revealed the gently rising line of its profile. Its ‘low front, high back’ stance would influence automotive design for years to come. For a 5-seater saloon car, the Ro80 was highly aerodynamic. Cruising at speed, then, was a breeze. So well-sorted was the NSU outwardly that it barely changed in the ten years of its run. Only tail-lights were modified, over time.

Handling-wise, the Ro80 was just as impressive. FWD and power-steering kept things nicely aligned. Long-travel strut suspension soaked up bumps. New-fangled disc brakes were fitted all round. A 3-speed semi-automatic transmission swept through gears with aplomb. Top speed was a creditable 112mph.

Nothing, though, is perfect. The Ro80 was powered by a twin-rotor Wankel engine. Unfortunately – in a rush to get cars into showrooms – said motor was under-developed. Which is when the problems started. A mere 15,000 miles was all it took. The Wankel’s rotor-tip seals wore out. Frustrated owners cited less power – and more fuel consumption. As wear increased, the engines grew harder to start. If the car could be coaxed into life at all, it was with thick smoke billowing from the exhaust pipe. Even in less environment-sensitive times, that did not go down well. To be fair, NSU settled claims with alacrity. Indeed, it was not unknown for it to stump up double-digit engine replacements, in due course. Which only serves to show what an alluring overall package the Ro80 was. A car which caused so many headaches – and was still in demand – must have had something going for it. And – in terms of looks, at least – the NSU Ro80 most certainly did!

BMW 3.0 CSL

The ‘L’ in BMW 3.0 CSL stood for Lightweight. It was a vital attribute. After all, the CSL was built to homologate BMW’s 6-cylinder coupé – for European Touring Car Group 2 racing. To that end, the list of the CSL’s super-light parts was a long one. There were skinny body panels, a fibreglass back bumper, and racing latches on the bonnet. In addition, the CSL had Plexiglas side-windows, and alloy-skinned opening panels. Interior trim, too, was grist to the weight-losing mill. In all, 400lb was shaved off the base model. Top speed for the super-svelte CSL was 135mph. Acceleration had sky-rocketed.

To accomodate the CSL’s added grunt, BMW stiffened the suspension. Bilstein gas shock absorbers featured state-of-the-art progressive-rate springs. Alpina wheels were chunky 7″ alloys. Chrome wheel-arch extensions kept things street-legal. The first CSLs came with a 2,958cc engine. It was normally-aspirated – making 180bhp. In ’72, BMW took the bore out to 3,003cc. That qualified the coupé to compete in the 3-litre Group 2 series. Output was upped to 200bhp. Bosch electronic injection was fitted – replacing twin Zenith carburettors.

Up until ’72, CSLs were left-hand drive. But, that year saw a right-hand drive option released in the UK. Described as the ‘RHD City package’, the car had performance and comfort in abundance. For this model, BMW restored most of the weight-saving features they had so painstakingly removed. Some British buyers still managed to find fault. They found the Scheel bucket seats difficult to get into. And the light alloy panels – still part of the bodywork – were too prone to accident damage, they said. Nor was the CSL’s price tag to every Brit’s taste. Both an Aston Martin and Jensen set them back less. To be fair, only 1,095 cars were sold globally. Ultimately, though, the BMW 3.0 CSL was an ‘homologation special’. Certainly, the CSL racing coupés went on to be a roaring success!

Porsche Carrera GT

The Porsche Carrera GT was shot through with motorsport. Nominally a roadster, number-plates were about as far as it went! It started as a Le Mans prototype – one that was subsequently shelved. The roots of its V10 engine were in F1. Porsche had built it for the Footwork team, in the early ’90s. The Carrera GT concept car was launched at the Geneva Show, in 2000. It set off a tsunami of excitement. Showgoers jostled to get out their cheque-books. Porsche knew they had hit pay dirt. A limited-edition run was swiftly announced.

The Carrera was chock-full of competition-calibre components. The monocoque chassis was carbon-fibre. Diffusers and venturis were the stuff of F1. Wheels were super-light magnesium. So were the seats – with added carbon-fibre. Stainless-steel push-rods compressed the suspension – rigorously developed for rock-solid strength. The clutch was ceramic – as were the disc brakes. Natch, there was a 6-speed ‘box.

The Carrera GT’s bodywork was streamlined – to say the least. Huge ducts cooled the engine and brakes. Rear wing action kicked in at 75mph. The cockpit was moved forward – adding to the dynamism of the design, among other things. Porsche’s brief to self was to create a cutting edge supercar. The Carrera GT was proof they had delivered!