Citroën’s iconic 2CV embodies French chic. It is a triumph of minimalist design with a large dose of practicality, packaged to make the most of the least.
«At a time when everyone fantasized about seeing a car fly over the earth, the most innovative of French manufacturers created the DS, a prototype halfway between a flying saucer and a car, but available for purchase on the market. Well, do you know what? Some even saw it fly… in the movies.
After the distinctively cheeky character and idiosyncratic mechanicals of the rear-engined aircooled Volkwagens, getting into the firmly-bolstered plaid-clad drivers’ seat of this Golf GTI MkI feels like a total culture shock. Everything is angular, futuristic, hinting at computerised systems and digital precision, created in the same kind of ultra-rational post-oil-crisis idiom that produced things like the Porsche 928 and W126 Mercedes-Benz S-class. Only in-house stylist Herbert Schäfer’s contribution, the gearknob – Schäfer was a keen golfer – hints at any notion of fun. And yet in the Eighties, the Golf GTI would define driving excitement.
It just means ‘People’s Car’, and yet Volkswagen signifies so much more. There’s no shortage of rivals with reliable, cheap utilitarianism at their core, but few have managed to unite counter-culture hippies and surfers with City yuppies and boy racers within their embrace. There’s every chance your first car was a battered Golf – the same thing Prince Michael of Kent uses as a runabout. To investigate this curiously classless appeal, we have gathered six VW icons. There’s the Beetle that began it all, and the Camper that kick-started the ownership cult. The Karmann-Ghia made a glamorous push upmarket, a theme that hit its zenith with the Corrado VR6. And then there’s the Golf GTI, the car that defined the hot hatch. We’ve also included a Lupo GTI, which proved that there was virtue in going back to basics after years of growth. So which will convert us to the cult of VW, and how do you buy your way in? Time to take the wheel and find out.
We all have cars that we love because of a personal association and for me the Jaguar X-Type is just that. Yes, I know it has its haters, and the “nice Mondeo, mate” jokes can be a tad tiresome, but for me it’s car with a connection.
Despite ruling Le Mans throughout the Fifties with five overall victories plus three second, two third and four fourth places, Jaguar’s dominance of the famous 24 Hours race came to an end in the early Sixties with a disappointing ninth place. When motorsport’s governing body, the FIA, introduced a new GT class for endurance racing from 1962 onwards, many privateers chose the new E-Type. The homologated version initially showed great promise with two examples finishing a strong fourth and fifth at 24 Heures du Mans in 1962 with the outfits of Briggs Cunningham and Peter Sargent.
To aid development of the Tadek Marek-designed V8, Aston Martin produced a one-off DB5/DB6 hybrid in early 1966 that was powered by the new unit. Despite being a well-used prototype, the car survived and we’ve driven it.
With a price of 30,000 Deutsche Mark, the BMW 503 was extremely expensive even for affluent customers at the time. Unlike the 507, the 503 was offered as both a convertible and a coupe. Under the long hood, it had a V8 engine producing 140 horsepower, which was later upgraded to the 150 horsepower engine from the 507. The 503 remains a rarity to this day but has always lived in the shadow of the legendary 507. And both V8 models nearly bankrupted BMW.
A background in competitive motorsport through the Seventies and Eighties means that Stuart Simons is a man with a need for speed; a need he has satisfied by building his dream MG Midget. Don’t be fooled by its diminutive appearance because Stuart’s MG packs an incredibly powerful punch.
This is not an Eighties car, I can hear the naysayers proclaim – and yes, the elegant E24 first edged its (shark)nose into public consciousness halfway through the Seventies. However, it’s here because it was the halo car for BMW’s Eighties ascent into the upper echelons of desirability. We have to strip back years of 2 Series Active Tourers and ratty 320Ds to uncover the BMW of old. The badge was a status symbol – king of the keyfobs at yuppie dinner parties. All the prestige of a Jaguar or high-spec Rover without the whiff of old-school England, and much sportier than a Mercedes-Benz. The BMW was engineered of the right stuff – its sharp, crisp lines a foil to British notions of luxury and prestige still predicated on more chrome, wood and leather than an MP’s secret cellar. BMWs were properly expensive too – sift through the price list of the era and the difference between a E24 635CSi Highline like the one seen here and the top-of-the-tree M635CSi E24 could swallow a semi-detached home in the Midlands. So E30 3 Series aside, Eighties BMWs were always a fairly rare sight; nowadays every third car seems to wear an ever-more gopping kidney grille.
The Eighties has never been more popular – take a look Kate Bush’s Running Up That Hill, which topped charts in eight countries 37 years after its release. Netflix’s Stranger Things TV series has thrust the Eighties aesthetic straight into the mainstream, with a younger audience warming to the fashions, music – and, of course, the cars.
