Car Lust

1986-1992 Saab 9000 Turbo

When Saab debuted the 9000 in 1986, it raised some eyebrows. It's not often that a car garners attention because of its normalcy; but such is the case when a noted oddball carmaker like Saab introduces a car so seemingly bone-stock conventional as the 9000.

Saab had always been known for cars with profiles that could best be described as quirky. From the early 92 and 95, to the swoopy Sonnetts, to the swollen and hunchbacked 99 and 900, Saabs looked different than normal cars and were seemingly proud of that fact. By contrast, the 9000 was clean and attractive but otherwise unremarkable by the standards of 1986. The aero headlights and the smoothly contoured sides were handsome and aerodynamic, but reminiscent of the ground-breaking Audi 5000 and Ford Taurus. Without the Saab grille and insignia, it would be difficult to identify the 9000 as a Saab--while the 900, on the other hand, showed its Saab heritage clearly and proudly. Only the five-door hatchback bodystyle betrayed Saab's quirky tendencies.

In another break from non-conformity, the 9000's platform was the result of a joint development effort with three other European carmakers. The 9000's chassis and, in some cases, body panels, were shared with the Alfa Romeo 164, Lancia Thema, and Fiat Croma. Sharing a platform with the likes of Alfa and Lancia doesn't exactly raise the spectre of awful and irrelevant clones like the Cadillac Cimmaron or Mercury Bobcat, but its conventionality was a bit worrying for this slavish Saab-ite. Had Saab sold out and built a bland every-car?

1995-1999 Oldsmobile Aurora

This week has taken on a bit of a General Motors theme; Anthony Cagle started off by honoring the Chevy Nomad, I waxed ecstatic about the GMC Syclone and Typhoon, I perhaps unfairly castigated an old Oldsmobile-centric video, and even the Stutz Blackhawk Cookie the Dog's Owner featured yesterday was based on a Pontiac Grand Prix. Since Mochi Mochi's post for tomorrow also has a GM angle, I figure we should just go with it.

When GM shut down Oldsmobile in 2004, I thought it was a crying shame. Not only was GM ending Olds' proud run of 107 consecutive years of car production, but after a fallow late 1980s and early 1990s, Olds finally seemed to be getting its act together.

The division that had put out the 442, the Toronado, the F-85, the 88, the Cutlass, and the Rocket V-8 had by the early 1990s become a junk drawer for assorted character-less brand-engineered versions of General Motors cars. With Buick and Cadillac oriented towards the luxury car buyer, Pontiac oriented towards the performance market, Chevrolet as the value leader, and Saturn as the import fighter, Oldsmobile was left without a market, a purpose, or a unique car of its own. The once-proud name had become irrelevant.

2008 BMW M3

Given the ho-hum response to the AMG CLK63 Black Series post and to other fancy sports sedans on this blog, I'm guessing not many of our Car Lust regulars will be singing the praises of the 2008 M3. Given my obsession with sedans that perform like sports cars, though, I just can't ignore this car. Besides, I've been waiting for the V-8 M3 for years, for reasons I'll detail below. Don't worry, folks, we'll be back in the bad cars soon enough.

In the high-pressure world of international sports car racing, highlighted by the 24 Hours of Le Mans and similarly prestigious long-distance races, Porsche and BMW have a highly entertaining red-hot rivalry. The two proud German manufacturers have been engaged in a back-and-forth hammer-and-tongs battle for supremacy for some time, resulting in an arms race that would not have been out of place in the Cold War.

Peugeot 405 Mi16

For both good and ill, the Peugeot 405 was a landmark car for Peugeot. On the good side of the ledger, the 405 was extremely well-received in Europe, winning the European Car of the Year award in 1988, and establishing a sterling pedigree in international rallying. On the negative side, the 405 was the last car Peugeot sold in the United States before slinking out of this market with its tail between its legs.

With the 405 Mi16, at least Peugeot left on a strong note. The standard 405 was a nice enough sedan--a good driver and pleasantly styled in what would become the clean, slick early 1990s idiom, with just a touch of Peugeot character to keep the car from complete anonymity. The Mi16, though, gave American drivers a taste of the Peugeot performance that Europeans had enjoyed with the 205 Turbo but that never quite infused the still-lustworthy 505.

1996 Eagle Vision TSi

Back when I was in high school, I remember noticing just how badly space was wasted in cars. Small cars could seat five passengers, and a large car could likewise seat five; the big differences in exterior size dwarfed the small differences in interior space. A few years later, I read about Chrysler's push towards "cab forward" design, pushing the cabin forward in the chassis for better space utilization. Other car manufacturers had toyed with the idea, but apparently Chrysler was planning to dive right in and redo their whole car line based on the concept.

I was excited, because it made sense--better stability and handling, sleeker lines, and best of all, maximum room for people and minimum space dedicated for the machine. I foresaw the Colt becoming a sleek little speedster-ish coupe. I imagined beautiful cars revitalizing the whole Mopar line. I was mostly a Ford fan at the time, but I liked the idea of the underdog Chrysler brands putting out some decent products for a change.

Rover P6 2000

As many of you may have guessed by the silence over the past few days, I've been traveling and away from the blog. Happily, reader Al Johnson was moved to request a car for Car Lust--and his request was so good that it stands on its own as a worthy post.

Al Johnson:

"You're correct that the Brits managed to make an unreliable car out of a bulletproof one, though a lot of reviewers at the time thought the Sterling's handling and ride were superior to the Legend. But can I nominate another car for Car Lust? I owned a first-generation Rover 2000 for several troubled years. Absolutely brilliant engineering, near-perfect ergonomics, phenomenal handling; it was the ultimate stealth car in a world where no one knew what a sports sedan was.

Sterling 827 SLi

This Car Lust was actually a request from David Colborne, who sent me an e-mail asking for some Sterling coverage with the irresistible lead-in: "I mean, these things were a worse idea than the Chrysler Maserati TC, if such a thing were possible." It's a good line, but no--it's not possible. The TC holds the crown for all-time bad automotive decision-making.

Actually, as ideas go, I thought the Sterling was a pretty inspired one. In the late 1980s Japanese cars were known primarily for their engineering and their reliability, not their flair or luxury. English cars excelled at sumptuous interior appointments and quirky charm. What better idea than to clothe reliable, well-engineered Honda mechanicals, in the form of the first-generation Acura Legend, with sophisticated English bodywork and an old-world wood and leather interior?

Jaguar XJ Mk. 1

We've featured quite a few British cars in this space, but of the cars we've covered so far, none match the compelling engineering and old-world English elegance of the original Jaguar XJ sedans. With their delicate styling touches and intimate, baroque interiors fairly dripping with wood and leather, the XJ6 and XJ12 are evocative of the great English motoring tradition of a more genteel time.

The charmingly outdated Jaguar sedans the XJ6 and XJ12 replaced had a firm rooting in English tradition, of course, but the new-for-1968 XJ sedans were really remarkable for their stylish and refined athleticism. The 1968 XJ6 sported a 4.2-liter inline six borrowed from the legendary E-type Jaguar that provided sports car thrust with smoothness that rivaled the buttery leather seats.

Car Lust--2006 Audi S8

There's something about "V-10" that doesn't really roll off the lips. It just sounds wrong. V-8, V-12, V-6, straight six; all of these are common engine configurations with long histories of providing performance magic on the street.

But V-10? Outside of Formula 1, the V-10 doesn't have much history. In past years, there was the Dodge Viper, of course, and it was possible to find a Ford Super Duty pickup or van with a Triton V-10, but compared to other engine configurations, the pickings were a bit slim. After all, why put the money into tooling a V-10 when modern V-8s can pump out ridiculous amounts of power? And if you're hell-bent on cylinder count, why not move up to a V-12, with its innate smoothness, rich power band, and mellifluous tone?

Car Lust--AMG Mercedes-Benz CLK63 Black Series

In the old days, broadly speaking, there were two kinds of performance car engines. Domestic muscle cars used massive, primitive, pushrod V-8 engines whose sheer overwhelming size gave them bottomless wells of bottom-end power. Imports, on the other hand, used much smaller four- and six-cylinder engines which made up for their size shortfall with technological know-how. Dual overhead cams, aluminum construction, four valves per cylinder, variable valve timing--these were the technological tricks that helped even the playing field.

Muscle car lovers typically ridiculed the hard-working small engines, and import fans turned up their noses at the big eights, referring to them as tractor engines, or worse. Yet those with an appreciation for both often wondered what would happen if modern engine technology could ever be married with a monster V-8. What sort of creature would then issue forth?

Car Lust--Lotus Carlton

We're now nearly three weeks into the inadequately named Our Cars Week, and I still have a few more reader submissions to go. I'm completely out of my own cars, though, so my posts will revert back to traditional Car Lust mode. I have to say, I've been loving all of the submissions--lots of really interesting cars, lovingly described, with some fantastic anecdotes. Great stuff.

Anyway, I'm sure not everybody has enjoyed this romp through the typical and mundane, so for those people today's Car Lust is a rare performance jewel--the Lotus Carlton.

The Carlton was a sports sedan in the AMG Hammer vein in that it allowed four adults and a trunk full of luggage to cruise in sumptuous comfort at 170 mph on the autobahn--a rarity when the Carlton debuted in 1990. Unlike the Hammer, which evolved from a blue-blooded Mercedes-Benz, the Carlton started as a lowly General Motors family sedan--namely, the Vauxhall Carlton.

Our Cars--1994 Acura Integra GS-R

I was such a jerk as a teenager. I didn't really rebel in the normal teenage ways--though my parents might disagree--but I was a total know-it-all when it came to their cars. I'd do things like mock their Buick and then go through the classifieds to find Audis and Saabs that they should own instead. I'd recommend they liquidate all of their investments to buy a Porsche 928S4. And, worst of all, I'd mercilessly ridicule every car they bought.

All of this is a great point of shame for me now that I'm at least somewhat more mature, and was totally unjust anyway considering my Dad knows more about cars than I do. Mom and Dad, mea culpa.

Happily, I gave them some sweet revenge when I fell completely in love with a car that I had previously spurned.

My parents, selfless as usual, were preparing for the financial rigors of my sister and I reaching college by selling their Acura Legend. We had owned a few solid but unexciting sedans previous to the Legend (a 1976 Chevy Nova and a 1987 Buick LeSabre), and in that context the Legend was a thoroughbred. Smooth V-6, creamy leather, rock solid at triple-digit velocities (not that I'd know, of course)--the Legend was the first car we owned that car magazines had deigned to test. Selling the Legend was a bitter pill to swallow.

AMG Hammer

I still remember the moment clearly--I was an 11-year-old flipping through the new copy of Road & Track in a branch of the Austin Public Library. That issue featured a top-speed shootout between several hot-rodded exotics. I believe there was a tweaked Ferrari Testarossa, a turbocharged Ferrari GTO, a gorgeous Ruf Porsche, a few hot-rodded Corvettes, and other various exotics. It was a pretty interesting story, filled with beautiful cars running at top speed, with R&T's typical story-telling goodness.

And then it happened--I noticed that one of the competitors appeared to be an ordinary mid-sized Mercedes-Benz 300E sedan. Of course, it was actually an AMG Hammer.

The sole criteria for inclusion in the test was flat-out, throttle-to-the-floor speed. The other competitors were hot, cramped, noisy, impractical, unreliable, and expensive highly modified exotics. And even within this context, a thoroughly comfortable and civilized Mercedes-Benz four-door sedan was a formidable competitor.

Volvo 850 Turbo Wagon

For wagon enthusiasts like me, this decade has been a golden age in which a cornucopia of stylish, incredibly powerful wagons dot the streets--a Bacchanalian feast of wagon goodness, if you will, for every appetite. A Dodge Magnum Hemi satisfies the V-8 set, the Subaru WRX and Forester XT wagons fulfill the dreams of off-road rally wannabes, the Audi S4 wagon is available for fans of fast European cars, and there are many, many other interesting wagons to choose from.

Things were not always so.

Following the 1980s, a time in which the sports wagon concept began to germinate and blossom, the early 1990s were a fallow time. Wagons as a whole were passe--replaced in the American consciousness by the ubiquitous minivan and, soon, the family-oriented SUV.

In this dark time for sports wagons, however, enthusiasts looking for excitement had an unlikely hero-- Volvo. Yes, Volvo, the dour Swedish manufacturer of underpowered and boxy but eminently practical and safe sedans and wagons.

Audi 5000CS Turbo Quattro

In the early 1980s, a car buyer who wanted the space and practical packaging to transport a family in comfort had little choice but to buy a family sedan or a luxury sedan--complete with wheezing, gutless engines and, probably, spongy, wallowing suspensions.

If that buyer wanted effortless performance and a gratifying driving experience, a sports car was the only option, saddling the customer with cramped, impractical quarters, the fit-and-finish of a typical Happy Meal toy, and woeful reliability. If supreme traction in cold and wet conditions was essential, the options were limited to either a bizarre and slow Subaru, or a truck--which in those days meant dealing with a rough ride and spartan accommodations.

And regardless of vehicle class, there was a good chance that buyer would be dealing with loads of chrome, cheesy styling touches, and blocky designs that didn't cheat the wind so much as batter it into submission.

1989 Infiniti Q45

Broadly speaking, the 1980s were a fantastic time for the established luxury-car manufacturers. After the petroleum crisis of the 1970s, expensive, high-performance cars were back in vogue. Mercedes-Benz SLs were all the rage at tennis clubs, and yuppies began to fall in love with BMWs. Audi began its first (though ill-fated) ascent towards premier brand status, and Jaguars continued to nail down the old money.

By the end of the 1980s, however, the Japanese automakers were ready to set their sights on the luxury car market, having already stormed the economy-car and family-car markets. Over the previous decades, the Japanese had already achieved the unthinkable by wresting market share away from Ford, Chevrolet, and Chrysler; now the proud bastion of premium sports luxury cars beckoned.

Acura debuted in 1986 with a somewhat tepid ranging shot; a six-cylinder Legend too small and plebian to really compete with the biggest and best Mercedes and BMW offerings. But the real salvo arrived in 1989 with the explosive arrival of two high-caliber slugs--the Lexus LS400 from Toyota and the Infiniti Q45 from Nissan.

1990s Nissan Maxima SE

           

    

As you've no doubt noticed, I don't reserve my automotive lust for the exotic or the unattainable. I've always believed that even ordinary cars can be lust-worthy, and in fact some of the sweetest gems are those right under one's nose.

Such is the case with the early 1990s Nissan Maxima SE--these cars are everywhere and, on the outside, completely unremarkable. However, get to know one, and you'll be impressed.

In the marketplace, the Nissan Maxima has historically competed against Honda's Accord and Toyota's Camry, but in the early and mid-1990s, the SE edition of the Maxima, with its 190-horsepower V-6, precise 5-speed gearbox, and taut suspension, made it legitimate competition for the BMWs of the world. Nissan called it the "4 Door Sports Car," and that moniker wasn't far off.

Datsun 510

           

    

In the late 1960s and early 1970s, Japanese cars were tiny, spartan, and economical, with a reputation for being reliable but disposable--tinny and underpowered, unable to summon enough consistent speed to easily keep up with American freeway traffic.

The Datsun 510 began to open Americans' eyes to the possibilities of Japanese carmakers cranking out interesting and capable small cars. With its clean, attractive lines and tidy proportions, reminiscent of the BMW 1600 and 2002, the 510 combined strong horsepower with eye-popping agility. The complete package made the 510 one of those rare cars in which a unity of purpose results in a package that is both popular and influential. In this case, the 510, along with the aforementioned BMWs, was one of the hugely influential import compact sports sedans that helped shape American tastes and appetites in the decades to come.

1993 Cadillac Seville STS

           

    

In the late 1980s and early 1990s, well before its recent transformation into a quasi-hip carmaker, Cadillac was almost thoroughly irrelevant. Automotive tastes had moved beyond Cadillac's trademark pillowed-velvet and vinyl-roofed land yachts, and as Cadillac mimicked the rest of GM in moving to smaller front-wheel-drive cars, even the tawdry elements of Cadillac's uniqueness began to fade. As illustrated by the lackluster Cavalier-based Cimarron, and with the possible exception of the Allante, Cadillacs had become little more than plebian cars adorned with a once-proud hood ornament.

When Lexus, Infiniti, and Acura emerged in the late 1980s to engage in full-scale sports/luxury warfare with Mercedes, BMW, Audi, and Jaguar, Cadillac, like Lincoln, was left out of the fight--remembered, if at all, as a punch line to a once-funny joke.

2004 Audi S4 Cabriolet

           

    

If I were to sing a hymn to the greatness of the Audi S4 Cabriolet, with no semblance of rhyme or rhythm, it would go something like this:

O Audi S4 Cabriolet,

Bottomless is the well of your power,

I praise your silky torque.

Soft and supple is your leather upholstery,

Your heated seats warm me to my soul.

Your smooth lines and aggressive stance

Move me to weep with joy.

O Audi S4 Cabriolet, I want to drive you down the path of righteousness--very quickly.

Okay, so it's not a great hymn, but the S4 Cabriolet counts as one of the all-time greatest cars I've ever driven. I finagled my way into getting one as a test car to coincide with my 10th high school reunion (the Chevy Aveo I had the previous week wouldn't have sent quite the same message), and it was stunningly well engineered.

Mercedes-Benz CLS500

           

    

When I first saw the Mercedes-Benz CLS500, it took my breath away. Understand, I'm not particularly used to being wowed by Mercedes sedans. They're typically very elegant, classy, and admirable in a look-but-don't-touch aristocratic way. Usually that's a formula for respect, not love.

BMW has been particularly adept at taking advantage of this weakness, as have Jaguar and Audi. All three have been producing smooth, sensuous sports sedans and coupes for years, appealing to the buyer who wants the technical competence of a Mercedes without so obviously marking themselves as having the hipness of a banker.

Mercedes designed the CLS series to close the style gap, but the CLS didn't just close it; it crushed it. The CLS is now the sultry heartthrob of the group--the car that inspires very direct, purposeful thoughts and makes you restless until you can get your hands on it.

1988 BMW M5

       

        

When BMW introduced its original M5 in 1988, it was a revelation. Less high-strung than the recently introduced boy-racer M3, the M5 was bigger, more comfortable, and more sophisticated. The really eye-opening part is that the M5 had a more usable, longer-legged performance envelope comparable to the best sports cars of the time.

With 256 horsepower in a small sedan, the M5 could hit 60 mph in 6.3 seconds and run smoothly all the way up to 147 mph. A limited production run, combined with the fact that the M5's first year coincided with the last year of the 5-Series' tautly creased body style, means that the 1988 edition is extremely rare.

In subsequent years, new models of the M5 have carried on the tradition of all-around performance without compromising comfort or drivability; even the newest BMW M5, with its 500-horsepower V-10, owes a debt to the original trailblazing 1988 M5.

This pristine example, sporting what appears to be stickers for the Brock Yates-inspired One Lap of America, belongs to Roy Wicklund of the Boston Chapter of the BMW Car Club of America.

--Chris H.

     

Hartge H50

           

    

I'm going to cap off this week's Sleeper Sedans in the Morning feature with a car that could not possibly be more different from yesterday's 1976 Plymouth Gran Fury 440.

People expect a BMW 3-series to be quick and capable, so to qualify as a true under-the-radar sleeper performer, it follows that a 3-series-based sleeper must offer a comparatively higher level of performance--much higher even than the pumped-up, supercar-like BMW M3.

The Hartge H50 takes that elevated performance standard and crushes it into rubble.

1976 Plymouth Gran Fury 440

           

    

For those who habitually look at the pictures before reading the text (if they read this drivel at all), I promise, I can explain. Yes, here in the middle of Sleeper Sedans in the Morning, I'm featuring a 1976 Plymouth Gran Fury. And no, I'm not joking.

I have an irrational love for traditional elephantine 1970s American sedans that has not yet been thoroughly chronicled in this space--though I promise it will be. The Gran Fury, and its Dodge Polara sibling, is one of my favorites. Distinctive styling, lots of space, the archetypal combination of floaty ride and bellowing V-8--what's not to love? Aside from arthritic acceleration and handling, that is.

However, today's Car Lust isn't the everyday Gran Fury--it's a hot sedan so "sleeper" that virtually nobody knows it exists.

In the mid-1970s, the Gran Fury and Polara were the most popular police cars around, but as the 1960s pinnacle of performance continued to crumble under the erosive pressures of fuel shortages and emissions regulations, the police began to notice that even their once-proud mounts were capable of little more than wheezing along in the slow lane.

Nissan Altima 3.5SE

           

    

When figuring out which car I was going to pick for today's edition of Sleeper Sedans in the Morning, I nearly went for the Hyundai Sonata--after all, what could be a more startling under-the-radar speedster than a 235-horsepower Hyundai?--but opted instead for the Nissan Altima 3.5SE.

Yes, an Altima. The first-generation Altima was a stylistic and dynamic disaster, a heavier and uglier Sentra, with all of the automotive rightness of a 200,000-mile rental car. The second-generation Altima, however, was a revelation on its debut and more reminiscent of a trimmer Maxima than its Altima predecessor--a stiff chassis, attractive Passat-like styling, spacious interior, and torquey and bulletproof V-6.

Mercedes-Benz 450SEL 6.9

           

    

As we continue Sleeper Sedans in the morning theme this week, I am pulled irresistibly towards what might be the ultimate combination of subtlety and crushing power--the Mercedes-Benz 450SEL 6.9.

In 1975, hardly a wonderful time for performance cars, Mercedes introduced its 450SEL 6.9--its standard large sedan, powered by a monster 6.9-liter V-8 (roughly 420 cubic inches), pumping out 280 horsepower and a leviathan 405 pound-feet of torque. The Mercedes monster could launch from 0-60 in right around 7 seconds and had enough grunt to run 140 mph all day long, while simultaneously cosseting its inhabitants in a quiet, refined passenger cocoo