In January 2000 we were all breathing a sigh of relief that the Millennium Bug hadn’t actually caused all the world’s computers to crash and the planes to fall from the sky. And in Ford’s ever-fertile design hub, there was no time to dilly-dally or rest on any laurels; they were right onto the next big thing and, somewhat improbably, they managed to predict the existence of apps a full seven years before smartphones arrived. The vessel for that impressive prediction was the car you see here, the radical 24.7 concept.
Here’s Ferry Porsche presiding over what looks like a management meeting. He’s flanked by his oldest son, design director Ferdinand Alexander – or Butzi as most people now call him – and his nephew, technical director Ferdinand Piëch.
The 24 Hours of Le Mans that took place in 1980 was an odd race by Porsche’s standards. CEO Ernst Fuhrmann had decreed that not only would the 911 not be developed further, but neither would the 936 Sports prototype. Instead, Porsche would campaign at Le Mans with the 924, suitably modified and turbocharged. The transaxle 924 (the 944 was in the wings) and 928 were, in his view, the company’s future. The Porsche racing fraternity was dismayed, while other competitors were puzzled. These GT-class 924s – even with 350bhp – were hardly potential race winners, but Ernst, for whom this would be his last Le Mans with Porsche, was unperturbed.
A 22-year old mechanic and aircraft technician, in 1951 Rolf Wütherich possessed the kinds of skills Ferry Porsche was seeking for his nascent business. Within weeks he was part of a small group developing a new transaxle for Porsche’s own gearbox, a component urgently needed because the stock VW item was failing under the increasing torque of Porsche’s flat fours.
Page through the CAR guide section at the back of the magazine and you’ll be hard-pressed to find a new model that does not incorporate some form of smartphone integration; be it simple Bluetooth connectivity, or touchscreen systems that accommodate Android Auto or Apple CarPlay functionality. And it was the latter that set the scene for the sort of phone-to- car interaction we enjoy in so many of our vehicles right now.
Showcasing Buick’s turbo technology in the early Eighties was this one-off model, the PPG Buick Skyhawk Turbo, that was built to pace the Budweiser Cleveland 500 in 1982…
By and large, when it comes to the business of fitting innovative technologies into their cars, automobile manufacturers tend to reserve such features for their flagship models or limited-run offerings. The price tags and discerning clientele who can afford it justify the cost of such fancy features.
When posing the question of which technological steps to take to improve vehicle fuel economy, the answers tend to fall on the side of engine downsizing.
It’s sometimes amazing just how quickly time passes. I look at the subject of this month’s Across the Pond as an example. The year 1982 doesn’t seem that long ago to me, but four decades have passed since then.
Elsewhere in this issue you can read all about how the NSU Ro80 wasn't the fragile horror that it's often made out to be, but here's where the Wankel rotary engine started; with the NSU Spider, which was the first production car to feature such motive power. Launched in 1964, the Spider was a two-seater convertible with a rear-mounted engine. That engine was a single-rotor unit that put out 50bhp, and the more you revved it the smoother it became. Red-lined at 6000rpm, it was possible to spin it all the way to 8000rpm, and presumably self-destruction soon after.
