Italians are renowned for their obsessive attention to the aesthetics of pretty much everything. As a result, the country enjoys a reputation for style and flair that the marketing teams of brands like Alfa Romeo or Maserati waste no opportunity to exploit to their advantage.

Yet, few would argue that, when it comes to car design, that reputation was mainly established between the 1950s and the 1980s, the golden era of the Italian “Carrozzieri.” These were a handful of small firms located around Turin that, at the height of their creative powers, managed to exert an outsize influence on the aesthetic development of the automobile worldwide.

But it’s plain to see that those days are gone. Bertone is no more, ItalDesign is an outpost of VW, and if you want your new car to come with a Pininfarina badge, your only choice is the Battista hypercar.

So, what went wrong?

The question may be simple, yet the answer is anything but. The downfall of Italy’s famed design houses wasn’t triggered by a single event or circumstance. Instead, it was a gradual process characterized by multiple contributing factors. But to understand what knocked the likes of Pininfarina and Bertone off their perches, we first need to look at how they got there in the first place.

The postwar years weren’t kind to the European coachbuilding industry. The sector’s traditional client pool was dwindling, and as the continent’s automobile industry embraced unibody construction, so was the supply of suitable donor chassis to work on.

By 1955, many prestigious Italian names from the pre-war era, such as Castagna and Stabilimenti Farina, were gone. The few coachbuilding firms that survived this tumultuous period were those with closer ties to the local automakers. These were the strongest, most resourceful outfits that could work with unibody structures and take care of small production runs—all while serving as actual design partners, too. Genuine one-stop shops that, on short notice, could ease the pressure from an automaker’s factory and design office.

That’s because while the switch to chassis-less construction made for lighter, more efficient cars, it also made tooling up for low-volume derivatives like coupès or convertibles significantly more expensive. And that’s where companies like Pininfarina and Bertone entered the picture. Outsourcing their design and production allowed Fiat, Lancia, and Alfa Romeo to offer sporting derivatives of their regular models without investing in additional production capacity. This became even more critical by the second half of the 1950s, as a booming Italian economy sent the demand for new cars through the roof.

By the mid-’60s, these lucrative contract manufacturing arrangements had transformed Pininfarina and Bertone into small industrial empires. Both companies built car bodies by the thousands, yet their fortunes depended as much on ideas as they did on sheet metal. Being perceived as the cutting edge of automobile design was crucial to keep commissions coming in, so wowing the crowds at the Turin, Paris, or Geneva motor shows with sensational show cars was an integral part of these firms’ business. And the results were as spectacular as the cars themselves: Design commissions came pouring in from France to Japan and everywhere in between. It seemed the Turinese masters could do no wrong, but their success was due in no small part to favorable circumstances.

As we intend it today, car design was practically invented in Detroit in the late 1920s when GM established its “Art & Colour” section. It didn’t take long for each of the Big Three to have a well-funded and fully-staffed design department. But, strange as it may sound to our modern ears, during the ’50s and ’60s, most European automakers had yet to realize the essential role design played in market success. If they had an in-house design team, it was often understaffed and placed under the engineering department’s thumb. Management frequently had little understanding or appreciation for design matters and, lured by their flashy dream cars, didn’t think twice about handing the job to the Italians.

Of course, that’s not to say these people weren’t good. Unencumbered by the internal pressures the home teams were subjected to, the Italian studios repeatedly delivered the freshest, most original proposals. Sometimes, when one particular automaker was stuck in a dangerous creative rut, that outside input—think Giugiaro’s work for VW in the 1970s, for example—could even prove vital. But nothing lasts forever, and as the 1980s gave way to the 1990s, dark storm clouds were already looming on the horizon.

The first cracks began appearing right in the contract manufacturing business that had served Bertone and Pininfarina so well. Quality standards across the industry increased, while more advanced, flexible production methods allowed different cars to be made on the same line. As a result, automakers lost the incentive to outsource the production of lower-volume models. Moreover, if an international customer faltered, falling back on Fiat’s shoulders was no longer possible. Italy’s former industrial giant was all but broke heading into the turn of the new millennium and could no longer offer the support that had been so crucial four decades earlier. Few things can dig a larger hole in a company’s finances quicker than an idle factory, but the problems didn’t stop there.

By the time the last 747 full of Cadillac Allantés left Turin’s airport, design culture was much more widespread worldwide. Automotive executives were now acutely aware of design’s importance, and wanted to keep tighter control over it. Consequently, manufacturers invested heavily in their own design studios and often had multiple ones on different continents. With that, any incentive to involve third parties in the process was gone.

Especially when said third party counted most of your competitors among its customers. In an excellent biography published a few years ago, the legendary designer Ercole Spada shared a poignant anecdote from his time at BMW. He recalled how the company routinely asked each of Turin’s most prominent studios for proposals despite not intending to pursue any. But, since Pininfarina, Bertone, and ItalDesign all worked with BMW’s rivals, having these companies “compete” against its own design studio was, for the Bavarian firm, an indirect way to get a glimpse of its rivals’ general direction.

Last but certainly not least, complacency set in. There may still have been a space for Turin’s storied design firms in the modern era if they had kept their foot hard on the accelerator and their gaze locked on the horizon. Perhaps even more than in their 1960s heyday, being at the forefront of automobile design was a matter of life or death. Yet, one look at Bertone’s post-2000 output is enough to see why their phone stopped ringing.

Of course, Pininfarina is still around. Its latest work, the lovely Morgan Midsummer, shows that the company hasn’t lost its touch. But the days in which every Ferrari and every Peugeot on sale was a Pininfarina design are gone, never to return.

Nevertheless, it can be argued that what was created all those years ago in Turin continues to wield a certain influence on automobile design today. As a part of our shared cultural heritage, it’s in the back of every car designer’s mind, providing inspiration and being reinterpreted in novel ways. There are many examples out there, but the best one may be Hyundai’s brilliant Ioniq 5. It’s a resolutely contemporary and highly distinctive design, yet its design language’s roots are in Giugiaro’s “folded paper” cars from the 1970s.

Ultimately, the tale of Turin’s fallen design giants is as much about their amazing cars as it is about the fleeting nature of success. Left behind by the industry they once ruled, what’s left of the Italian “Carrozzieri” currently faces an uncertain future. What is certain, however, is that their massive legacy will stay with us for a very, very long time.

***

Check out the Hagerty Media homepage so you don’t miss a single story, or better yet, bookmark it. To get our best stories delivered right to your inbox, subscribe to our newsletters.

The post The Rise and Fall of Turin’s Design Firms appeared first on Hagerty Media.

When discussing the halcyon days of Italian automobile design, I don’t hesitate to define the years between 1950 and 1980 as Italy’s second Renaissance. That may seem like hyperbole, but it’s a more fitting analogy than your art history teacher might like to admit.

Much like 15th-century Florence, a unique set of circumstances in the mid-20th century turned Turin into a hub of intense creativity. This time, however, at the heart of this creative explosion was not literature or the arts, but the quintessential product of the industrial era: the automobile.

Like Florence under the Medicis, the golden era of Turinese coachbuilding saw the work of countless artists and craftsmen eclipsed by the towering achievements of a handful of legendary masters. And masters don’t get much greater than Marcello Gandini, who passed away on March 13 at 85.

As it’s widely known, Gandini was hired by Nuccio Bertone in 1965 following Giorgetto Giugiaro’s move to Ghia. Mr. Bertone had a keen eye for talent, but probably even he couldn’t imagine just how good his decision would turn out to be.

Gandini’s first project for Bertone was the car his name will forever be associated with: the Lamborghini Miura. Widely considered among the most beautiful cars ever made, the Miura’s design was a masterful synthesis of different influences. Its overall concept drew heavily from Ford’s GT40, while the surface treatment and detailing owed much to previous Bertone designs from Giugiaro, particularly the 1963 Corvair Testudo.

Although its mechanical layout was inspired by motorsport, in the Miura, function definitely followed form. It was the fastest car money could buy, but its capabilities as a vehicle were entirely secondary to visual drama. Designed primarily to drop jaws rather than seconds off a lap time, the Miura marked the birth of the bedroom poster supercar. Yet, while the rest of the world was busy writing checks to Lamborghini, Marcello Gandini had already moved on.

The Miura had boosted Bertone’s reputation to unprecedented heights, much to the dismay of its crosstown rival, Pininfarina. But there was no time to rest on one’s laurels—these firms’ thriving yet fragile business model hinged entirely on being perceived as the bleeding edge of automobile design. With that precious reputation on the line at every year’s major motor show, it was a case of innovate or die. And innovate Gandini did, big time.

First came the Lamborghini Marzàl, which landed at the 1967 Geneva Motor Show. The word “landed” is entirely appropriate, because few other artifacts embody the era’s fascination with space exploration quite like the Marzàl. Built on a lengthened and extensively modified Miura chassis, the Marzàl was a piece of art inside and out.

Its front end was a slim black slit, housing six Marchal quartz-iodine headlamp units, among the smallest available at the time. The Marzàl’s giant glass gullwing doors exposed its four passengers like mannequins in a shop window, while the mechanical elements remained hidden under a matte black, three-dimensional hexagonal pattern engine cover that looked like armor plates.

The hexagonal honeycomb theme continued in the dashboard’s instruments and controls, as well as the seat cushions and backrests, which were upholstered in a highly reflective silvery material reminiscent of a spacesuit. If Gandini’s initial works for Bertone still had a tinge of Giugiaro’s design influence, the Marzàl was the turning point at which Gandini broke away from that mold and never looked back.

When the 1968 Paris Motor Show doors opened, the Miura was less than two years old and still the hottest thing on four wheels. Yet, that didn’t stop Gandini from completely rewriting the design template for the whole supercar genre.

Based on an Alfa Romeo 33 Stradale chassis and running gear, the Bertone Carabo was a radical departure not only from established aesthetic norms but also from anything Gandini had done until then.

Inspired by the latest trends in racing car design, the Carabo was as pure a “wedge” shape as possible, achieving a low drag coefficient while minimizing the front-end lift issues that plagued the Miura. Gandini took advantage of the relative absence of mechanical hardpoints at the front of the Alfa 33 chassis to keep the Carabo’s nose low and frontal area to a minimum.

Thus, the Carabo’s visual weight was concentrated at the rear. Its profile was characterized by a single, nearly unbroken line from nose to tail, as the flat bonnet merged seamlessly with the windscreen. Gone were the Miura’s sensuous curves, replaced by sheer surfaces with minimal crowning and tight radiuses: it was the dawn of the “folded paper” design language that would dominate 1970s automobile design.

Nowadays, Franco Scaglione’s curvaceous 33 Stradale is rightfully revered as a design masterpiece. But one glance at Gandini’s creation, based on the same underpinnings, is enough to realize just how far he was pushing the envelope.

The Carabo was never meant to become a production car. Yet, in a roundabout way, it did. That’s because when it came time to design the Miura’s replacement, Marcello Gandini reused the same essential design ingredients (scissor doors included) but distilled them to even greater effect. Leaner, sharper, and with even more dramatic proportions than the Carabo due to its bulkier powertrain, the Lamborghini Countach hasn’t lost an ounce of its visual impact over half a century from its conception.

Marcello Gandini remained at Bertone until 1980. His early years as the Turinese firm’s main creative force were not only the company’s finest hour, but arguably the period in which Italian car design reached its peak in terms of international influence.

Over the following years, from a desk in his country house outside Turin, Gandini tackled everything from massive industrial programs for Renault to underfunded supercar projects like the Cizeta Moroder. Though not all the entries in his vast back catalog can be considered masterpieces, each of his efforts affirmed Gandini’s unwavering commitment to technological and aesthetic innovation.

That’s a commitment Gandini reiterated in what would turn out to be his last public appearance. In the speech he gave before receiving an honorary degree in engineering from Turin’s Polytechnic University this past January, he urged the young students to “extract from limitations and impositions a strong, stubborn, and constructive sense of rebellion.”

Addio Maestro, e grazie di tutto. Non ti dimenticheremo.

***

Check out the Hagerty Media homepage so you don’t miss a single story, or better yet, bookmark it. To get our best stories delivered right to your inbox, subscribe to our newsletters.

The post Marcello Gandini Drove a Renaissance in Automotive Design appeared first on Hagerty Media.

There’s been no shortage of enigmatic cars over the years, but one of the most intriguing, enchanting, and left-field examples must be the Alfa Romeo Montreal. It looked like nothing else, packed a 2.6-liter V-8 unique to the model, and it looked little changed from the Bertone concept that sired it. In the early 1970s, it really was what dreams were made of.

The Montreal story began in 1967, when Bertone displayed a pair of concept cars at Expo 67, the World’s Fair hosted in Montreal, Quebec, that year. The car was based on the platform of the Alfa Romeo 1600GT Junior and styled by ace designer Marcello Gandini. Alfa Romeo claimed that huge demand from buyers desperate to have their own Montreal resulted in a road-legal version of the concept being developed. In reality, it’s highly likely that Alfa expected to come up with a production car from the outset.

By early 1970, the road-ready Montreal was revealed at the Geneva Salon, and in place of the 1.6-liter four-cylinder engine was a much more appealing, detuned version of the Carlo Chiti-designed 2.0-liter quad-cam, dry-sump V-8, which was usually fitted to the T33 sports racer. The displacement was now 2593 cc, and with Spica mechanical fuel injection it developed an easy 200 hp at 6000 rpm.

This detuning was essential to the V-8’s long-term health; by reducing the peak power point for the engine from 8800 rpm to 6500 rpm, and cutting maximum power in the process from as much as 350 hp to 200 hp, the V-8 wasn’t remotely stressed in its new road-going application. Peak torque was also reduced, to 173 lb-ft at 4750 rpm; the racer’s maximum came at a heady 7000 rpm. Although 200 hp might not sound like much now, it was enough to take the Montreal all the way to 135 mph, having despatched the 0–60 mph sprint along the way in 7.5 seconds. Heady stuff for 1970.

When Autocar tested the Montreal in 1972, its V-8 was found to be supremely flexible. The car could be launched from a standing start in fourth gear, which would then take it all the way to 120mph. The maximum speed was 140 mph in fifth. Autocar noted: “On the road the most impressive thing is the way the noise level does not seem to increase at all with either revs or speed. Much of the time it is impossible to detect which gear is engaged or how hard the engine is revving. This coupled to the amazing flexibility means that initially the driver changes gear too much and it takes a while to get used to the idea that this Alfa can do most things in fourth.”

Considering the Montreal’s exotic engine specification, the suspension left something to be desired. While up front it was independent with coil springs, wishbones, dampers, and an anti-roll bar, at the rear there was a live axle with coil springs and dampers and an A-bracket. It was just as well there was a limited-slip differential, or getting the power down in challenging conditions would have been pretty much impossible. As it was, Autocar wrote: “Although there was never a trace of axle tramp on smooth roads, bumps or broken patches in the surface on corners set the live rear axle pattering about, but never to an alarming or disturbing degree. For a high-performance car without the benefits of independent rear suspension, the Montreal is deserving of high praise, especially in regard to its ride qualities and excellent handling.”

The magazine continued: “For a high-performance car the ride is really quite soft and much less harsh than, for example, that of a BMW 3-litre. There is quite a lot of body roll on corners in consequence, despite anti-roll bars front and rear, and a noticeable excess of front-end dive under heavy braking. Driven with verve and not much finesse on twisty roads, the Montreal will disturb most passengers by the frequent attitude changes. With a sympathetic driver behind the wheel it can be hurried just as fast on a much more even keel. It is the kind of car which grows to fit you, not the sort one takes to immediately.”

Montreal production started in 1971, with the all-steel bodyshells being built by Bertone. Things got off to a reasonable start, with sales the following year peaking at 2377, but it would be all downhill from there. With the fuel crisis hitting in 1973, Montreal production slowed to just 319 units in that year.

Once European sales had been established, in August 1972 U.K. imports began, with the Montreal priced at £5077 ($12,456). That was just £522 ($1280) less than a Ferrari Dino 246 GT, 50 percent more than a Jaguar E-Type V-12, and twice the price of the V-8-powered Triumph Stag. The Alfa was £1100 ($2698) cheaper than the BMW 3.0 CSi, but that was little consolation to potential buyers, who generally stayed away. Matters were not helped by a lukewarm reception from the press.

Despite room for improvement in many areas, not least of all its suspension, the Montreal wasn’t developed at all during its production run, which officially came to an end in 1977, with Alfa Romeo finally removing the car from its price lists. However, Bertone would later claim that it had built the last Montreal body shells a full two years earlier, after 3917 examples had been completed; just 180 of those were right-hand drive. Survivors are rare thanks to low values for decades. While good Montreals are now worth significant money, with so many other classics also vying for your attention, this is one car that’s likely to maintain a low profile for the foreseeable future.

***

Check out the Hagerty Media homepage so you don’t miss a single story, or better yet, bookmark it. To get our best stories delivered right to your inbox, subscribe to our newsletters.

The post Cars That Time Forgot: Alfa Romeo Montreal appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Even in the pantheon of superstar Italian designers, Giorgetto Giugiaro, Marcello Gandini, and Paolo Martin loom very large. If you’re a regular reader of this site, chances are you can name dozens of their cars. Most car enthusiasts even know the design firms they worked for or founded. But what if there were a fun, relatively affordable car that bore the imprint of all three maestros? Such a mix of exotic and proletarian does indeed exist: the Bertone-bodied Simca 1200 S Coupé, built from 1967 to 1971.

The power trio of designers didn’t design this car together, so this story isn’t quite like an epic automotive issue of Marvel Team-Up. The common denominator is Bertone: All three designers worked for Nuccio Bertone in the 1960s, with Giugiaro famously departing for Ghia and Gandini taking his place at Bertone in 1965. Martin stayed only a few months before departing to Pininfarina, but in 1967 he and Gandini helped turn Giugiaro’s circa-1962 Simca 1000 Coupé into the faster, meaner-looking 1200 S.

Both cars are rare today, being built in modest numbers and having a predisposition for rust, but you can’t tell the tale of one without the other. Their story spans not only the early careers of all three designers but also the turbulent period of Chrysler’s takeover of Simca. What started as a kind of cast-off Fiat design aimed at the Renault Caravelle ended its days as a Pentastar-badged mini-Porsche built in Rotterdam, but the story began in Italy.

Simca, Fiat, and the 1000

By the late 1950s, Simca’s founder and longtime director Henri Pigozzi had diversified the focus of the company, which had originally built pure Fiat designs for the French market. But Fiat still owned a big chunk of Simca, even after Chrysler bought a 15 percent share in 1958, and the personal and technical relationships between Turin and Poissy ran deep. So deep that when Fiat demurred on a potential 1-liter Fiat 600 successor proposed by Dante Giacosa in 1959, Pigozzi swooped in and grabbed it.

Based on their observations that standards of living across Europe were rising, Pigozzi and Giacosa agreed that cars with 1.0- to 1.5-liter engines would be the largest volume segment in the 1960s—and that Fiat management didn’t care. Pigozzi took one look at Giacosa’s two-door “Project 119,” a scaled-up 600 with a 1-liter engine, and saw that it perfectly fit his plans. He even arranged for Simca’s stylists to be given one of the styling bucks from the related four-door, 850-cc “Project 122.”

As Giacosa would lament in his autobiography, Forty Years of Design with Fiat, Turin’s management just didn’t think long-term. While Pigozzi’s team was developing and putting the boxy 1000 into production, Giacosa wrote, “The ‘122’ was silently shelved and forgotten. The Simca 1000 came out in September 1961 and had the success Pigozzi had foreseen.” Three years later, Fiat recycled the 122 into the 850.

The 1000’s layout and structure and look came from Fiat, but Simca developed its own mechanicals. Future Matra engineer Georges Martin designed the engine, a simple, durable water-cooled 944-cc OHV four with a cross-flow head, the first motor in the long-lived “Poissy” family. The radiator and fuel tank were in the back, which resulted in 35/65 weight distribution front to rear, giving the 1000 light steering and oversteery handling. The 1000 used a transverse leaf spring up front and Corvair-like swing axles in back, and all were four-speed manuals.

Even before the 1000 came online, so to speak, Pigozzi wanted a coupé to answer Renault’s popular, Dauphine-based Caravelle. His first port of call was longtime partner Facel, but while its designers did create a 1000 Coupé proposal, the car’s BMW 700–like lines just weren’t sporty enough for Pigozzi. More importantly, Facel was in financial turmoil. Pigozzi’s nephew, Aldo Nascimbene, suggested that his friend Nuccio Bertone might be a better bet.

Giugiaro and the 1000 Coupé

If Giacosa indirectly helped create the 1000 sedan, he did the same for the coupé. In June of 1955, at an exhibition hosted by his uncle, art professor Eugenio Colmo (popularly known as the cartoonist Golia), Giacosa spied car sketches by one of Colmo’s students, 17-year-old Giorgetto Giugiaro. The encounter led to an internship and a job at Fiat.

It was a momentous opportunity, but Giugiaro’s supervisor rarely presented his work to studio boss Fabio Rapi, and the young designer often felt stifled by the plodding management. In November of 1959, Giugiaro met Nuccio Bertone at the Turin Motor Show. Impressed with his sketches, Bertone proposed a test. Could the 21-year-old design a new Alfa Romeo coupé, to a specific set of dimensions, in three days?

Yes, actually. The car became the Alfa Romeo 2000 Sprint, and by December Giugiaro was working at Bertone.

When Pigozzi approached Bertone for a 1000 Coupé, Giugiaro mined his favorite themes to create one. The airy greenhouse was a riff on his one-off Maserati 5000 GT. The tapering rear deck, pert tail, and tunneled headlights echoed a pair of Ferraris, the latter a 250 GT SWB built for Bertone himself in 1962. The Simca’s dashboard was also lifted from Bertone’s SWB.

The 1000 Coupé first appeared at the Geneva show in March of 1962 alongside Bertone’s SWB, and a production version debuted that fall in Paris. In the months between, Simca and Bertone had agreed that sedan shells would be shipped to the company’s factory in Grugliasco, turned into coupés, and returned, on specially-designed railcars, to Poissy for finishing.

There were also mechanical upgrades like a high-compression head, for 40 hp (later 52) and disc brakes all around. The coupé weighed about 150 pounds more than the sedan, but as its center of gravity was lower and its weight further forward, it handled better. The jaunty 2+2 was a hit in Paris, but it cost 12,000 francs, 1500 more than the Caravelle. It was by far the priciest Simca, other than the 33,000F Simca-Abarth 1300.

Regime change

On January 18, 1963, Chrysler bought 38 percent of Simca from Credit Suisse, upping its total share to 63 percent. Despite the assurances of Chrysler president Lynn Townsend that continuity would be maintained, the move drew criticism from France’s Ministry of Finance. Pigozzi was forced out in May, only to die of a heart attack in 1964. At this point, things could have gone off the rails, but Chrysler brought in ex–SUD Aviation CEO Georges Héreil, who steadied the ship and invested in Simca’s front-drive 1100.

Despite this turbulent atmosphere, the Chrysler connection was good for exports. As early as 1958, Americans could buy and service Simcas at Chrysler-Plymouth dealers. The 1000 sedan sold decently for an economy car and earned plaudits from the automotive press, but the Bertone just cost too much to catch on. In 1964, Road Test sampled one and liked it, but it cost $2800, $300 more than a V-8-powered Plymouth Barracuda.

Even at home, the price-to-performance ratio was a problem. The Coupé handled well and offered a taste of coachbuilt style, but it just wasn’t fast and, in those less enlightened times, was considered too feminine. As newer, cheaper competitors arrived, like the Fiat 850 Coupé, sales flatlined. In early 1967, Héreil decided to give it a style and engineering upgrade. He gave Bertone a simple brief: Make it look meaner without spending too much. However, Turin’s regime had also changed.

Born in 1938 like Giugiaro, Gandini had no formal training but lots of raw talent. He first applied his skills to rebodying a friend’s OSCA in 1959, but his lack of credentials held him back from the professional sphere. He cold-called coachbuilders in Turin for much of the early 1960s, including Nuccio Bertone in 1963. As Gandini would later tell biographer Guatam Sen, “Bertone seemed to like what I had shown him and said that he would get back to me, but he didn’t.”

Some months later, according to Gandini, Bertone apologized. He explained that he wanted to hire Gandini, but that he’d probably lose Giugiaro if he did so. In late 1965, however, Giugiaro abruptly departed for Ghia. Gandini got the call. His first assignment was the legend-making Lamborghini Miura, but Gandini wasn’t Bertone’s only new hire.

Paolo Martin, born in 1944, began apprenticing for Giovanni Michelotti at age 16 in 1960. There he helped shape cars like the Hino Contessa before moving to Bertone in 1967. His very first assignment was reshaping the face of the Simca coupé, on which he used some themes from the Miura, namely the hood vents, which were fully functional. Gandini also worked on the project, but Giugiaro’s center section stayed mostly unchanged.

Martin departed for Pininfarina months later, and his only other major Bertone work was the famous “b” logo. The designers never worked together again, but the 1200 S fit Héreil’s brief exactly.

The Rotterdam Express

The main reason for the big grille opening of the 1200 S is that the radiator was moved up front to properly cool the car’s new engine, a 1204-cc, twin-carb version of the “Poissy” four. The new motor came with a huge jump in power—from 52 hp to 80 and, soon after, 85 hp, with a 112-mph top speed. The 1200 S was slightly heavier than the 1000 Coupé, but still only weighed 1960 pounds. What had been a pretty but pokey car was suddenly a rival for Alpine A110s and Lancia Fulvias.

Accompanied by some wildly chauvinistic advertising emphasizing how much of a “man’s car” it was, the 1200 S debuted to considerable interest in the late summer of 1967. It was still expensive, more than a 1.6 liter Ford Capri in 1969, but the performance helped justify the cost. Wisely, Simca kept updating it, adding rack and pinion steering and dual-circuit brakes in 1969. By the summer of 1970, three years into production, Simca had sold 11,627 of them, compared to 10,600 1000 Coupés from ’62 to ’67.

After Simca launched the front-drive 1100 in 1967, that car took over the company’s priorities. It would end up being France’s best-selling car from 1971 to 1973 and inspired Chrysler’s later front-drivers, in Europe and in the United States. To free up space to build more 1100s, assembly of the 1200 S was moved to an old complete knock-down (CKD) assembly site in Rotterdam in 1970. Since the bodies were shipped by rail, it was an easy switch. Another 3114 were completed there, with new options like a vinyl top.

It was in the Netherlands where Tim Skeel found the red 1968 1200 S you see here. Even there, survivors are rare thanks to rust. Like the Fiat 850 Spider and a whole lot of other bodies built at Grugliasco in those days, corrosion protection was an afterthought, and Bertone didn’t make many spare panels. Skeel’s car was restored in the 1990s and shares his garage with a 1.3-liter Fulvia.

Skeel was drawn in by the looks, but also by the fact that the 1200 S was more affordable, relatively speaking, than earlier Simca coupés. “I like unusual stuff that not everybody has,” Skeel says, “And those Facel-bodied Simca 9 and Oceane coupés are just amazing, but they’re out of my price range. When I bought the Fulvia four years ago, I was actually looking for a 1200 S but couldn’t find one.” Good-condition Bertones, both 1000 and 1200 S, can fetch north of $25,000, but that’s not that much compared to coachbuilt Ferraris or the early Facel Simcas.

While the 1000 Coupé was sold in the United States, its production numbers were so small that the company never bothered with importing the 1200 S, which would have run afoul of emissions regulations anyway. A collector of oddballs since the 1970s, Skeel loves the Fulvia, but he still wanted the 1200 S. He found one and figured out how to import it. “It took five months, but it was worth it.”

The Fulvia is more civilized around town, but the Simca rides a little more gently. “It’s hard to say how they would have compared new versus now, when they’re full of 50-year-old parts. Also, I haven’t fully wrung the Simca out at high speed yet.”

Skeel put on fatter tires on seven-spoke wheels gifted to him by a friend, added a Nardi wheel and a shift knob, and swapped the poorly running stock carbs for a pair of Weber DCOE 40s and a header. The car also benefits from some upgrades done during the restoration. “You can see a couple of places where they patched metal or used filler, but they also added dual-circuit brakes and the vinyl top, so we’ll call it even.”

He likes the 1000 Coupé as well, but Skeel definitely thinks Héreil’s brief was a good one. “You got a whole lot more performance for the money, plus, it just looks way cooler.”

***

Check out the Hagerty Media homepage so you don’t miss a single story, or better yet, bookmark it. To get our best stories delivered right to your inbox, subscribe to our newsletters. 

The post How three maestros of Italian car design shaped an oddball we nearly forgot appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Happy holidays, readers. To allow our staffers to spend time with their families (and project cars and cats and dogs), The Manifold will be on hiatus, beginning tomorrow, through the end of the month. See you in 2023!

Back to the Future DeLorean lands in court

Intake: We’ve told you about the controversy over the DeLorean name, important since there are two separate companies seeking to build the next DeLorean sports car. But now comes word that the DeLorean used in the Back to the Future movies has landed in court. “In a federal lawsuit filed in Los Angeles this week, the DeLorean Motor Company said it acquired intellectual property and trademarks for the DeLorean in 1997, and that NBCUniversal is in breach of its contract,” according to the Los Angeles Times. The Texas-based owners of DeLorean Motor Company claim they are entitled to five percent of the revenue generated by the car, “from merchandising and commercial tie-ups connected to the films.” NBCUniversal has denied the claims.

Exhaust: A mechanic who specialized in DeLoreans evidently acquired the name decades ago, when it had essentially no value. It transferred to the DeLorean Motor Company, headed by current CEO Joost de Vries, and chief marketing officer Troy Beetz, both of whom came from the EV company Karma. Apparently they are the ones going after the five percent of merchandising and commercial income that NBCUniversal has earned, presumably from Back to the Future (1985), Back to the Future Part 2 (1989), Back to the Future Part 3 (1990), the Universal Back to the Future ride, and a ton of additional stuff. We’ll be watching this one. — Steven Cole Smith

Kia Stinger Tribute Edition will be sport sedan’s swan song

Intake: Kia will build just 1000 examples of the Stinger Tribute Edition as production of the RWD/AWD sedan comes to an end. Buyers will have the option of Moonscape matte gray, shown here, or Ascot Green, both of which will be contrasted with black Brembo brake calipers, black 19-inch wheels, and black exterior mirrors. Inside, Terracotta brown leather upholstery wraps the seats, steering wheel, door side trim, and door handles, while “carbon-effect finish” is used on the console and door panels. “The Stinger Tribute Edition denotes an important chapter in the story of Kia’s high-performance ethos. Featuring an exclusive color and interior trim never before seen on the sedan, it also serves as a fitting celebration of the Stinger’s contribution to the Kia brand,” said Chang Sung Ryu, Senior Vice President and Head of Purchase CX Design Sub-division. It will have the 3.3 twin-turbo V-6, with 368 horsepower. No word on price, but the 2023 GT2 model starts at $53,990, plus $1145 destination.

Exhaust: We’ve appreciated the niche that Kia has carved out with the Stinger in between sports sedan and luxury cruiser, not to mention its pleasing, athletic looks. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like there’s an immediate successor in the works, at least not a second-generation Stinger. We hope that Kia continues to take risks by building vehicles that are clearly aimed at enthusiasts, and perhaps a future product can once again bring a Genesis platform to a more affordable, sporty market. — Brandan Gillogly

Ferris wheels: Bueller’s fake Ferrari sells for $337,500

Intake: “The 1961 Ferrari 250GT California. Less than a hundred were made. My father spent three years restoring this car. It is his love, it is his passion,” says the highly strung Cameron Frye in the 1986 cult movie Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Except, as we all know the car featured isn’t actually a Ferrari at all. That didn’t stop a buyer shelling out $337,500 at Heritage Auctions to buy one of three replicas built by Modena Design and Research for the film. While two were assembled using Ford Mustang running gear this one was the famous crash car, launched through the plate glass of Cam’s dad’s garage, so it has never had a drivetrain. It was repaired and used to promote the movie, and will now be the centerpiece of one Bueller fan’s collection.

Exhaust: Despite being a non-runner the car fetched almost as much as one of the Matthew Broderick-driven hero cars which sold for $396,000 at Barrett-Jackson’s Scottsdale auction in 2020. A genuine 250 GT California went for $18.5 million in 2015, so it’s a good thing director John Hughes didn’t use a real one. — Nik Berg

Bertone bounces back with hypercar for 110th anniversary

Intake: Italian automotive atelier Bertone is back in business. Having gone bankrupt in 2014, Bertone was rescued in 2016 by Mauro and Jean-Franck Ricci’s Akka technology consultancy, but all we’ve seen since has been the bizarre Smart Bertone, which added a Formula 1-style KERS system and an extra 200 hp to the electric runabout. Now the styling house has revealed an all-new hypercar called the GB110 to celebrate 110 years of the brand. There are hints of past Bertone success stories in the design, such as the Stratos Zero style side vents, and it looks like Bertone’s aerodynamicists have been studying the latest work of Lotus as well, with some clever tricks to manage airflow. The all-wheel drive hypercar has a seven-speed transmission and double wishbone suspension with adjustable dampers. The GB110 is said to have over 1100 hp so that it can reach 62 mph in 2.79 seconds and 124 mph in 6.79 seconds. Top speed is a claimed 236 mph and all this performance comes from a sustainable fuel made from recycled plastic.

Exhaust: This is the Bertone that we all imagine, designing dream machines to follow on from such legends as the Alfa Romeo B.A.T. cars and the Lamborghini Miura and Countach. Owners Akka have the know-how to build it, but no timeline or price tag has been offered yet. Billionaires looking for a Bugatti alternative will just have to wait. — NB

Auto execs less bullish about EV adoption by 2030

Intake: According to the annual survey of global automotive executives by KPMG, the international consulting company, the execs are less confident about a prompt adoption of electric vehicles than they were one year ago. “KPMG reports automotive executives are less bullish about the prevalence of all-electric vehicles in the U.S. and globally by 2030,” says CNBC. According to the survey: “In just one year, the outlook has changed appreciably. The survey in 2021 showed that auto executives were very optimistic about the prospects for global EV sales. They estimated that EVs could capture as much as 70 percent of the market share by 2030. Since then, the top estimates have fallen to around 40 percent, which still indicates confidence,” but certainly less confidence. Note that this is an international survey, not just of U.S. executives. Thirty-seven percent of U.S. responders though, in both 2021 and 2022, answered the year 2030 to the following question: “When do you believe battery electric vehicles will reach cost/affordability parity with ICE without any subsidies?”

Exhaust: It’s an interesting, wide-ranging study. You can read it here. — SCS

Chevy Bolt recalled over seat belt pretensioners

Intake: Chevrolet has recalled the Bolt electric car again, this time for the possibility of gases emitted when the front seat belt pretensioners fire as the result of an accident. The escaping gases could potentially ignite the carpeting. The recall is for 140,000 Bolt EVs in North America.

Exhaust: There are some important recalls for the Bolt, but this one seems pretty incidental. Still, a recall is a recall, so Bolt owners, get it taken care of. — SCS

The post <em>Back to the Future</em> DeLorean in court, welcome back Bertone, so long Stinger appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Audi juices up RS6 Avant and RS7 Sportback

Intake: Audi has unveiled new performance variants of the RS6 Avant and the RS7 Sportback. The new models utilize new turbochargers that increase peak boost from 2.4 bar to 2.6 bar, pushing the output of the 4-liter V-8 to 621 hp and 627 lb-ft, gains of 30 hp and 37 lb-ft. A new mechanical center differential will shuffle torque front to rear in the permanent all-wheel drive system, allowing for as much as 85 percent of the torque to be sent to the rear axle, or as much as 70 percent of the available torque to spin the front wheels. New 22-inch lightweight wheels are optional, shedding 11 pounds at each corner. Audi’s RS dynamic package, which nets a higher top speed of 180 mph, dynamic all-wheel steering, and a sport rear differential, is standard on the Performance models. An additional package, dubbed RS dynamics plus, will also raise the top speed further (nearly 190 mph) and will score you a carbon ceramic brake package which sheds an additional 75 lbs over the standard steel brake system. You can have your performance wagon or sportback in 16 colors, three of which—matte or metallic Ascari Blue and matte Dew Silver—are new. Exterior accents are all dark gray, while interior accents are blue. Audi says that the new performance versions of the RS6 Avant and the RS7 Sportback will be available starting on December 8. Pricing for the U.S. versions will be revealed at a later date.

Exhaust: Audi’s über wagon and its slinky sportback cousin are some of the best Autobahn stormers in existence. Both were already glorious machines of excess, but we’re always down for more power and a heightened sense of occasion. — Nathan Petroelje 

Lordstown Endurance pickup deliveries begin

Intake: Lordstown Motors, the electric pickup truck manufacturer startup based in Lordstown, Ohio, in a shuttered GM plant, has begun deliveries of its electric pickup truck, the Endurance. The pickup is designed for commercial fleet customers, though it plans to sell the truck to individuals, too. The truck has unique in-wheel motors where the brakes would normally be. Lordstown has had problems with financing, depending on Foxconn, the Chinese iPhone manufacturer that owns the plant, for investments. There is known to be additional room in the plant for other lines, and Foxconn has had talks with Volkswagen about building the new Scout. The plant already builds a car for Fisker, and an electric tractor for Monarch.

Exhaust: We’re pulling for the plucky company, and our test drive of the comparatively bare-bones Endurance was positive. “The Endurance will provide benefits to customers that use their vehicles for work. It optimizes key attributes of traction and maneuverability—with our in-wheel hub motors, safety—with our five-star crash performance, and value in the segment,” said CEO Edward Hightower. Still, electric truck manufacturers like Ford and Chevrolet have not forgotten the commercial market, and will be tough competition for the Endurance. – Steven Cole Smith

Say hello to Bertone’s 110th anniversary supercar coming out party

Intake: After years of inactivity the Bertone design studio is back, just in time for its 110th anniversary. Bought by car enthusiasts Jean-Franck and Mauro Ricci back in 2020, the Italian firm has a new car in the works, and a new website to show it off. Details are still as sketchy as the shadow-laden digital renderings, but the proportions and aerodynamic ductwork suggest a mid-engine layout. Elegant curves and muscular haunches abound, and the 8-bit lighting elements pay homage to Bertone’s famous aerodynamic wedge designs from the 1970s.

Exhaust: Considering the performance offered by rival Italian firm Pininfarina with their Battista hypercar, expect the forthcoming Bertone anniversary tribute to possess an EV powertrain with mind-altering power and performance. (Possibly with bits sourced from Rimac, just like Pininfarina?) While the odds of it paying direct homage to any of its predecessors (especially aforementioned 1970s doorstops) is highly unlikely, one can hope this is just the start of a storied brand coming back to provide a unique visual experience for customers and onlookers alike. — Sajeev Mehta

Ferrari: No more SUV orders for now

Intake: Ferrari has stopped taking orders for its new SUV, the Purosangue, since it has a backlog of orders that might take two years to fill, says Reuters, quoting the drive.com.au website. “Ferrari unveiled in September the gas-powered 12-cylinder Purosangue, which the Italian sports car maker prefers to describe as a four-door, four-seater. It pledged to keep the model’s sales below 20 percent of total group shipments over the car’s life-cycle to retain a degree of exclusivity,” says Reuters.

Exhaust: Those who thought the SUV would represent the end of Ferrari—just like those who thought the Cayenne would spell the end of Porsche—obviously forgot to tell Ferrari’s customers. We guess that 715 horses, acceleration from 0 to 62 mph in 3.3 seconds, and a top speed of 193 mph appeals, even if it isn’t electric. (Or maybe because it isn’t electric…) – SCS

Singer and Theon present two takes on the Porsche 911

Intake: Britain’s Porsche resto-modders have been busy, with both Theon Design and Singer’s U.K. division releasing their latest interpretations of the classic 964-era 911. Singer calls its newest example the Naples Commission, and this Dynamic Lightweight Study is bodied in raw carbon fiber with lime green striping and matching magnesium wheels, together with a vivid green interior. It’s powered by a four-liter, naturally aspirated flat-six fettled by Williams Advanced Engineering to deliver 500 hp, and boasts a host of aerodynamic features to direct air at speed. There’s a special channel in the roof and a small ridge spoiler that steers the airflow to the ducktail at the rear, while a diffuser manages airflow under the car. The front air intake speeds outside air to oil coolers on either side of the car, and hot air vents ahead of the font wheels so it won’t disturb air under the car.

Over at Theon Design, a different approach has been taken, with the addition of a supercharger to the 3.6-liter flat six to deliver 400 hp. The Rotrex blower sits where the car’s air conditioning unit would have done and feeds cold, compressed air forced through two charge coolers to the motor. The engine internals have been re-engineered with independent throttle bodies, flowed and ported heads, a lightened bottom end, motorsport-grade Mahle barrels and pistons, as well as Carillo rods and custom profile camshafts. Theon also adds TracTive semi-active suspension with electronically switchable dampers, and a limited slip differential. Like the Singer, Theon’s BEL001 (named as it will soon be headed to Belgium) is also bodied in carbon, but painted in an aquamarine hue, based on a historic 356 color.

Exhaust: If you’re in the market for a modern take on a classic 911, it seems you’re spoilt for choice. Singer is now moving exclusively to the 964 Turbo, while Theon continues to offer normally-aspirated models alongside this new supercharged special, and both companies’ imagination, engineering and craftsmanship are extraordinary. So too are the prices with a Singer DLS costing $1.8m and Theon prices starting at $455,000. — Nik Berg

The post Audi’s hottest wagon gets even hotter, Bertone rises, two-year wait for Ferrari SUV appeared first on Hagerty Media.

The early 1950s was a desperate time for Italy’s plethora of independent coachbuilders. Companies such as Vignale, Bertone, Michelotti, Scaglietti, and Zagato were struggling with global steel and aluminum shortages thanks to the Korean War, and rampant inflation in the wake of the Second World War. Most of these car couturiers were living a hand-to-mouth existence; what they all needed was a contract to mass-produce (or at least batch produce) a luxury car for someone—anyone.

When the 1952 Turin Salon opened, Nuccio Bertone’s stand was tucked away in a corner, and on it was a pair of rebodied MG TDs, one a coupé, the other a convertible. Gone were the pre-war looks, replaced by ultra-modern bodywork that gave away nothing about the humdrum mechanicals hiding underneath. The lines were certainly enough to impress Stanley “Wacky” Arnolt, who was visiting from the U.S. ; he ordered 100 examples of each model, to sell in the U.S.

Arnolt was born in 1907 and graduated in mechanical engineering just as the Great Depression was in full flow. Throughout the thirties he got by, but in 1939, for very little money he bought the rights to build the Waukesha Sea-Mite marine engine—just as World War II was breaking out. He signed several very lucrative government contracts to supply these engines, and over the next few years he would buy ever more factory space to churn out an ever greater array of consumer products for the home and garden.

By 1941 Arnolt had bought his first luxury car, a Lincoln Continental, then in 1949 he took delivery of an MG TC. He adored the MG, and by the end of 1950 he had set up a dealership in Chicago to sell British marques including MG, Rolls-Royce, Aston Martin and Bristol. Knowing that Morris was churning out Minors at a much greater rate than it could sell them, Arnolt ordered 1000 of them and before long he was the biggest BMC dealer in America’s midwest.

What Arnolt wanted the most was to have his own name on a car that the public could buy. He had always fancied being a car designer, but his flair lay in doing deals, so that’s where his career took him. By signing a contract with Bertone he saved a storied Italian coachbuilder from oblivion while also getting his name onto a production car—albeit one made in limited numbers.

On his way home from Turin to Indiana, Arnolt stopped by the MG factory in Abingdon and ordered 200 TD chassis to be shipped to Bertone’s factory in Turin. The deal was that they would be supplied to Bertone as quickly as the new body shells could be produced. While the chassis was used wholesale, complete with the engine, transmission, steering, brakes and suspension, the body shell was all bespoke. Despite this the coupé was available for just $2995, while the cabriolet was listed at $3145, making the Arnolt-MG the cheapest coachbuilt car for sale in America.

The Arnolt-MG coupé weighed just 40 pounds (18 kg) more than the regular MG TD roadster, while the cabriolet was just 20 pounds heavier. As a result the acceleration wasn’t adversely affected and the more aerodynamic shape meant the top speed was raised from around 80 mph to closer to 90mph. Those simple underpinnings also meant that parts supply and maintenance wasn’t an issue, thanks to MG’s wide dealer network across the U.S. The Arnolt’s interior was more luxurious than the MG’s and the car was more practical with its wind-up windows (in place of side-screens), while in cabriolet form there was a well thought out folding roof.

Despite the Arnolt-MG’s keen price, impressive build quality and user-friendly design, sales were hard to come by right up to the point late in 1953 when MG replaced the TD with the substantially redesigned TF. At the point that BMC pulled the plug on the supply of rolling chassis, and Bertone had built just 67 coupés and 36 convertibles.

Wacky Arnolt’s dream of being a car maker looked like it was over before it had even got going. But while the MG TD-based model was dead thanks to BMC, Arnolt had something else waiting in the wings: a Bristol 404, also rebodied by Bertone. More on this in the future …

Check out the Hagerty Media homepage so you don’t miss a single story, or better yet, bookmark it. 

Via Hagerty UK ; photos by RM Sotheby’s

The post America’s Arnolt-MG Coupe saved Bertone from certain death appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Fifty years ago, Fiat brought mid-engined sophistication to the masses with its X1/9. The TR7 was Triumph’s riposte, but was it ever enough to restore faith in the U.K.’s once great sports car industry?

Welcome to Retro Rematch, a series from our friends at Hagerty UK, which pits contemporary rivals against one another in the here and now. Check out Hagerty UK here.

You could say that the writing had been on the wall for some time. In 1968, British Leyland Motor Corporation’s multi-brand offering included some of the most successful mainstream sports cars in history. The MG Midget and B, Triumph Spitfire and TR6 were all in their prime. But by the mid-‘70s, their ‘50s-derived design and engineering was wearing thin, and the market was ripe for a new kind of affordable sports car. This time, though, it came not from Britain, but Italy.

Take a bow, the Fiat X1/9

Launched 50 years ago, in 1972, the Fiat X1/9 gave a shot in the arm to the enthusiast car sector. Its clever mid-engined platform was a revelation at such a low price, and its futurist wedge design was right on point for buyers ready for a new flavor of sports car. That it was intelligently packaged, practical and drove like a dream must have been the worst nightmare for Triumph, MG et al.

They may already have had an inkling, though. In 1969, Autobianchi had shown an alluring concept based on its A112 model, called the Runabout Barchetta. Fiat purchased Autobianchi soon after, and the concept was put on ice, until company chief Gianni Agnelli realized that it had the makings of a perfect successor to the company’s 850 Spider.

Development started immediately, with Fiat using its all-new and highly advanced front-wheel-drive 128 model as a base, but re-engineered with a mid-engined configuration. Design of the X1/9 was by Marcello Gandini at Bertone and its 128-derived 1290cc, inline-four engine by Aurelio Lampredi, which gave the car instant provenance from the creators of the Lamborghini Miura and Ferrari V-12.

Mounting the high-revving, 73-hp engine amidships, gave the car a rearward bias for good traction, but confined major masses well within its axles, giving it highly responsive handling. The 128’s MacPherson struts were employed all around, and braking was by un-servoed discs at each corner.

The X1/9 was immensely practical. There was a generous cargo area at the front, large enough for not just luggage, but also for its targa roof panel to slot neatly above any contents. An additional trunk behind the transverse engine was also good for two soft overnight bags.

It was safe, too. Anticipating new U.S. safety regulations, the X1/9 became one of only two cars to pass the impending 50-mph head-on crash tests. However, the extra weight needed to make it so strong (which still only contributed to a 1940-pound weight for the first-series model) blunted performance somewhat, with 100 mph being only just attainable.

Which is why, despite a positive press reception, Fiat’s U.K. importer opted not to take the car after its debut at the Turin Motor Show in 1972, holding out for a more potent 124 Spider replacement that never materialized. But in 1977, it finally grasped the nettle, and never looked back. Despite Motor magazine only achieving a maximum speed of 97 mph and a 0-60 mph figure of 12.2 seconds, its tester proclaimed: “(The X1/9) is stylish, fun to drive, economical and next to our own aging rag tops is about the nearest you can get to real wind-in-the hair motoring at the price … What a car it would be with a bigger engine, though!”

Which is precisely what the X1/9 received the following year in time for the facelifted model’s world debut at the British Motor Show in October 1978. Taking the new Strada model’s 1500-cc version of the Lampredi engine, the X1/9 became the car it always should have been. With power now up to 85-hp, as well as a commensurate lift in torque, performance was markedly improved. While it was hardly the cheapest car in its class, it resonated with buyers, and even when Fiat stopped final assembly at its Lingotto plant in Turin in 1981, Bertone continued full production, re-badging the car as the “Bertone X1/9.”

Production drew to a close in 1989 after 17 years, with 160,000 X1/9s sold globally. But as Motor opined when it welcomed the X1/9 to its pages: “Its closest rival is Leyland’s TR7 …”. But exactly how close was it?

The TR7 brought a tear to Giugiaro’s eye

“Oh my God! They’ve done it to the other side as well.”

Allegedly, these were the words uttered when Giorgetto Giugiaro saw the TR7 coupé at its Geneva Show debut in 1975. The legendary designer had mistakenly assumed that the car on display was a concept, split, as they often were, to show two design approaches. But what he actually saw was Triumph’s new two-seater sports car in its final production guise.

To find out why the TR7 looked the way it did you need to go back six years to 1969. MG and Triumph, despite both being owned by BLMC since ’68, remained rivals. So when Corporation chief Donald Stokes decreed that a new sports car was needed to mitigate lost U.S. Triumph and MG sales, due to the launch of rivals like the Datsun 240Z and Porsche 914, each brand started to develop its own new sports car.

Interestingly, MG’s—known as “ADO21″—was mid-engined, whereas Triumph’s “Bullet” concept was configured as a more conventional front-engined, rear-driver. Only one car was to be approved for production, and with U.S.-buyer feedback equating conventionality with reliability, Triumph’s proposal won the day.

With Spen King heading up engineering development of the new car, Harris Mann, fresh from designing Austin’s new Allegro, was drafted in to the program. Dead-set against giving the new Triumph a traditional look, he later told Classic Cars: “Subconsciously, I was influenced by the Lancia Stratos. That car, with its low front end and interesting body design features, gave a completely new look to the sports car.”

Originally conceived with a targa-top, the TR7 eventually appeared as a fixed-head coupé, with Triumph initially fearing U.S. regulations would kill off open-topped cars. Its radical design, which cleverly integrated the U.S.-mandated 5-mph bumpers from launch, while introducing a distinctive swage line from its bustled rear to its ultra-low front end, disguised a well-engineered car, but one with orthodox underpinnings. The Dolomite’s slant-four engine was uprated to 1998 cc (the Rover V-8-powered TR8 came later) and mated to a four-speed gearbox (later five-speed). Suspension was by a well-located live rear axle and independently sprung at the front, with braking courtesy of front discs and rear drums.

With first cars from Triumph’s new Speke factory going to the U.S., U.K. sales didn’t start until May 1976, the British press praising the TR7 cabin’s practicality, size and comfort, but remaining polarized over Harris Mann’s exterior design. That changed in 1979 with the launch of the Michelotti-designed convertible, which buyers found altogether easier on the eyes. It was also marginally lighter (by 20 kg, or 44 pounds) than the coupé, despite having a strengthening box-section added to tie together the B-posts, as well as reinforced quarter panels.

All of a sudden, Triumph had an answer to Fiat’s newly revised X1/9 1500—they were even priced comparably, the Fiat only costing around £400 less in 1980. Alas, production woes linked to industrial action resulted in variable quality for the TR7, and despite a warm press reception to the convertible after its U.K. launch in March 1980, by May the following year British Leyland announced that it was to end all TR7 production, with the last cars rolling off the line that October. In all, 115,000 TR7s were built during its six-year production life, nearly 29,000 of which were convertibles.

Driving the X1/9

Andy Rowley’s immaculate and original 35,000-mile Gran Finale edition X1/9 is, as its name suggests, from 1989, the final year of build. As such, it wears “Bertone” badges, rather than Fiat, but in almost every other respect it represents the original facelifted 1500 model from 1979.

You sit in the driver’s seat adopting a slightly long-arm, short-leg position. Facing you is a lovely, thin-rimmed, three-spoke leather-trimmed steering wheel devoid of any branding. Four dials for oil pressure, water temp, speed and revs (the latter’s needle sweeping from right to left to its 6500-rpm redline) are all present and correct.

The sun is out, so the targa-top is stored away in the front boot as we set out on our rural Shropshire test route. At lower speeds the Fiat feels taught and instantly biddable; its unassisted steering is light, despite relatively high gearing, and alive with feedback from the road’s surface.

As we pick up speed, ignoring the shakes and shimmies from assorted interior trim, the X1/9’s control over crests, and slicing through a series of well-sighted bends, is impeccable; it just asks for more, and only prudence and the fact that it’s not my car keeps me from fully exploiting its potential. But even powering through an open bend for photography reveals only the merest trace of oversteer on these dry roads, accompanied by mild body roll over the rear axle.

Power from the zesty 1500 “four” is delivered with the kind of brio that makes you want to dip into its upper-rev band time and time again, as you keep it on-cam, quick-shifting the slightly wooden, but accurate, five-speed gear mechanism. A few months ago, I tested a 1988 Ferrari 328 GTB, and to me, the X1/9 feels like a scaled-down version of that car. Poised, sharp and exciting, and completely belying its 50-year vintage.

Driving the TR7 DHC

Like the Fiat, Steve Smith’s lightly modified TR7 Drophead Convertible is from the last year of production (in this case, 1981). It wears 14-inch, period-correct Revolution wheels, a Safety Devices rollover bar, and Spax Adjustable dampers at the rear, but mechanically it’s standard, save for electronic ignition and a more free-flowing exhaust manifold.

Compared with the Fiat’s cabin, the TR7’s is a more salubrious place to be, with larger seats, more shoulder and leg-room and more comprehensively equipped, with twice as many HVAC controls and a six-clock instrument binnacle. You sit higher than in the Fiat, but it’s easier to find a more comfortable driving position.

Also like the X1/9, the Triumph is a practical car, with an easy-to-erect soft-top, and boot large enough for two golf-bags. Where it scores over the Fiat is engine accessibility for carrying out maintenance; the longitudinal engine is positioned well back, mainly behind the front axle, leaving ample room to the sides and front of the unit.

And to drive? Chalk and cheese with the Fiat. To me, the TR7 was/is the ultimate evolution of the MG B/MG BGT. Over gnarled road surfaces, it feels better screwed together than the Fiat, accompanied by a ride which is more pliant, but—as you pick up speed—less controlled and more prone to feeling like a product of the ‘70s, which the X1/9 does not.

That said, there’s ample grip, with only mild understeer on tighter bends when you push on. Smith’s TR has had variable (via a rotary control) electric power steering (EPAS) fitted at some point, and while the standard ratio remains, with assistance on or off, it feels vague on turn-in and never inspires confidence like the Fiat’s steering does.

The TR’s engine is a peach, though. Sure, it’s not one for revs, but it’s lusty from low-down, and you find yourself motoring along at 500 rpm less than in the Fiat, enjoying the subtle pop-pop from its exhaust on the over-run, content that this is still a superb convertible in which to cover big miles in comfort.

A winner?

If you start with the premise of “to each their own,” there is no clear victor here. The TR7 DHC would have been the natural progression for many TR4/5/6 and MG B drivers, because despite its modernist aesthetic, deep down it embodied a chassis and powertrain approach that was well-proven and well-loved among traditionalists.

The Fiat X1/9, on the other hand, shook convention to the core. Subjectively, not only was its futurist design better resolved, but the engineering that underpinned it was so advanced and brilliantly well-judged that it resulted in one of the best-driving, affordable cars of any type from the ‘70s/’80s.

That both are criminally undervalued today (both our well-preserved test cars are insured for under £10,000, or $13,000) is as good a reason as any to start trawling the classifieds before prices start to rise.

1989 Fiat (Bertone) X1/9 1500 vs. 1981 Triumph TR7 Drophead Coupé

Price range (Fair #4 to Concours #1): $8000 – $26,400 vs. $3600 – $16,100 (£4000 – £21,000 vs. £3000 – £12,000)
Engine: 1498cc inline four-cylinder vs. 1998cc inline four-cylinder
Power: 85 hp @ 6000 rpm vs. 105 hp @ 5500 rpm
Torque: 87 lb-ft @3200 rpm vs. 119 lb-ft @ 3500 rpm
Gearbox: 5-speed manual vs. 5-speed manual
Curb weight: 2028 lbs vs. 2248 lbs (920 kg vs. 1020 kg)
0-60 mph: 9.9 secs vs. 9.5 secs
Top speed: 107 mph vs. 114 mph

The post Retro Rematch: Fiat X1/9 vs. Triumph TR7 appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Many of Jaguars’ designs are routinely honored as classics. However, their sultry sheetmetal didn’t stop Italian coachbuilders and styling houses from attempting to improve upon British perfection.

The movement began as far back as the early 1950s. The 1960s and ’70s, in particular, witnessed the release of several memorable makeovers, some of which had arbiters of beauty championing their cause far and wide. Others, by contrast, were poorly received— often with good reason. Yet none were boring, which gives car enthusiasts like us plenty to talk about.

What follows is a rundown of the better-known Giaguari Latini, and a few that have long since been forgotten by history. The real shame is that Italian coachbuilding is now facing extinction, so there may never be another masterpiece of this kind. The cars featured here serve as a reminder of how good—or, at the very least, memorable—it was while it lasted.

Frua E-Type, 1966

Frua’s best-known Jaguar remodeling was more of a restyle than a complete overhaul. It was completed at the behest of well-known dealer John Coombs. The sometime-race entrant envisioned selling specially tailored Jaguars to a discerning clientele, the prototype being displayed at the 1966 British International Motor Show at Earls Court.

Some 250 mm (9.8 in) was removed from the nose, while the power bulge was replaced with an air scoop. A new grille was also substituted. The rear end was similarly truncated. Perhaps unsurprisingly, given the popularity of the standard E-Type, there were no takers and accordingly the car remained unique, much like the Frau S-Type (below). It was later lightly modified by Italsuisse—a firm with whom Frua collaborated closely—which added a rather boxy, full-width rear bumper. The car was offered recently on the auction platform Collecting Cars, but the auction ended with the car unsold.

Frua S-Type, 1966

Pietro Frua’s bulging resumé included several landmark classics. Milan Jaguar concessionaire, Faltori and Monanti, commissioned the build of a custom-bodied S-Type in 1965. A rolling chassis was dispatched to Turin in December of that year, and remarkably the prototype was completed in time for its big reveal at the March 1966 Geneva motor show. Whether it was always going to be a one-off, or if Frua’s intention was to create replicas, is a source of debate among historians. What is beyond doubt is that the car remained unique. The Frua S-Type remained unsold for several months until it was acquired by the Italian gentleman Francesco Respono. He, in turn, moved it on to former motorcycle racer Hans Haldemann.

Bertone FT, 1966

Following up a XK150 rebody was no easy task, and Bertone’s next “boutique” Jaguar was surprisingly sober-looking by comparison. The marque’s Italian concessionaire, Ferruchio Tarchini, commissioned the Turinese styling house to construct a four-seater Gran Turismo based on the 3.8-liter S-Type saloon in time for the 1966 Geneva motor show.

Marcello Gandini was tasked with creating an all-new outline, the intention being to create a car for the Italian market only. Tarchini would be the sole distributor for this coachbuilt strain that was to be dubbed “FT” in his honor. However, it wasn’t warmly received following its unveiling. Nevertheless, Tarchini pressed ahead and commissioned a second car, this time based on a 420 platform.

Bertone Pirana, 1967

The next Bertone Jaguar was infinitely sexier and well-publicized in period. That is understandable given that it was conceived by The Weekend Telegraph’s editor, John Anstey, and his staff. It presented their idea of the perfect GT car. Nuccio Bertone was quick to come onboard, agreeing to complete the coachwork in time for the Pirana’s debut at the October 1967 British International Motor Show.

Bodied in steel save for the aluminum bonnet, and styled by Gandini, the resultant creation cost a rumored £20,000 to build—nearly £400,000 today (over $500,000). There was never any intention of building even a small run of replicas. The Pirana’s outline proved influential, however, in that it provided reference points for the Lamborghini Espada.

Bertone Ascot, 1977

Gandini’s follow-up was diametrically opposed in terms of styling. The shy artiste was at the height of his “folding paper” powers when he styled the brutally angular Ascot. Based on a shortened XJ-S platform, complete with 5.3-liter V-12, it was created at a time when Bertone was pitching to shape mainstream production cars for Jaguar.

What the creative types in Browns Lane made of the Ascot remains unrecorded, but this most serrated of big cats was nothing if not noticeable. Sharing styling cues with another Gandini creation, the Ferrari-based Rainbow, it was unveiled at the 1977 Turin motor show. The public greeted it with muted praise, which would explain why the Ascot remained a one-off.

Bertone B99, 2011

Scroll back to 2011 and Bertone had been in a precarious state for much of the previous decade. The arrival of this beautiful concept car at that year’s 2011 Geneva Motor Show proved that this hardy legend still had the ability to surprise. What’s more, it was styled by a Brit—the talented Adrian Griffiths.

While Jaguar was keen to distance itself from anything remotely retro, here was a styling masterclass that appeared classic without being clichéd. The B99 concept was also touted as a hybrid, with both a combustion engine and electric motors. Not only that, it was displayed next to a mocked-up racing version, complete with the mother of all rear spoilers. However, it came to nothing.

Italdesign Kensington, 1990

Styling great Giorgetto Giugiaro had high hopes for the Kensington when it was released in 1990. The Italdesign principal opined in period that Jaguar was too rooted in the past, and that he was keen to move the marque’s design language forward.

The most controversial part of the XJ12-based Kensington was the high-sited rear three-quarter treatment, but it proved influential. Many well-known designers freely admit to having been inspired by this one-off, but Jaguar, which didn’t sanction the build, was sniffy about it. Giugiaro has rarely been one to let things go to waste: He subsequently reworked the outline for several Italdesign-shaped cars wearing Lexus and Daewoo nameplates, among others.

Pininfarina XJ Spider, 1978

Of the many 1970s concept cars, few tugged on the heartstrings quite like this exquisite XJ-S-based creation. This shapely machine was strictly a standalone gig with no official factory involvement save for the contribution of a well-used XJ-S test hack which acted as a donor car. By the time the Turinese artisans were finished, all that remained was the bare floorplan, the new body being fashioned in metal and aluminum under the direction of Lorenzo Ramaciotti.

First seen publicly at the 1978 British International Motor Show, it caused a furor, but sadly, tragically even, it remained only a prototype. Pininfarina was responsible for the third-generation XJ6/12 makeover, though.

Pininfarina XJ220

The most recent Pininfarina Jaguar remains shrouded in mystery. It wasn’t publicized by the firm in period, that’s for sure, nor does it appear in most books on the subject. The Sultan of Brunei was once a highly valued customer, and in 1995 he requested a customized XJ220.

The regular car’s outline, the work of Keith Helfet, remained, only with fixed headlights in place of the concealed items, the rear end being reworked to accommodate different light clusters and a larger spoiler. The interior was also altered. However, the task of building the car was subcontracted to Sergio Coggiola’s eponymous carrozzerie. Whether the Italian reinterpretation was an improvement over the Coventry original depends on your artistic bent. [Ed: You know the drill … Let us know in the comments below.]

Zagato Jaguar XK140/XK150

Milanese coachbuilder Zagato created several significant designs during the 1950s, but its take on the XK-series remains a subject of confusion and conjecture. It was once widely held that three cars were made, but some historians have adopted the view that only two were so bodied.

The first example was built on an XK140 platform at the behest of Italian playing card manufacturer, Guido Modiano, who had crashed the donor car. The finished article was displayed at the 1957 Paris motor show. A second example, based on XK150 running gear, was then fashioned for a Swiss Jaguar dealer and exhibited at the 1958 Geneva Motor Show. A third car was purportedly built, based on an XK150 SE.

Via Hagerty UK

The post 10 Italian cars that are actually Jaguars appeared first on Hagerty Media.

A frequent commenter (who goes by CJ) on another site that I write for had this to say about a Volvo 262C post that I wrote months ago: “The genesis of the Volvo … was actually a Swedish trip by U.S. Ford executives to learn about Volvo’s innovative humane production line. They brought along a fleet of Mark IVs to drive, and Volvo management decided to find a way to make something similar.

“This car was the result of Volvo having an innovative approach to factory management in the ’70s that was thought to be improving quality and labor retention. Ford sent a contingent of executives, including Henry the Deuce, to Sweden to check it out. They brought a number of Lincoln Mark IVs to drive while they were there. Volvo’s CEO Per Gyllenhammar was green with envy at the style of the Lincolns, so Volvo’s designers were tasked with building something similar. They couldn’t tool up for a limited run of cars that were so different from the usual boxes, so they farmed out production to Bertone.”

I’d remembered reading a story about that years ago. I thought it was in a book I got from Mike and Cathy Lundahl, owners of Lundahl Volvo in Moline, Illinois, back in the ’80s. They were friends of my parents, and my parents bought their Volvos from Mike, so we saw a lot of them. I came home from the hospital in my mom’s dark blue 1977 245DL wagon. Anyway, the book, titled Volvo: The Cars From the ’20s to the ’80s, was published by Volvo and was a treasure trove of pics and information for the preteen version of yours truly.

Shortly after reading CJ’s comment, curiosity got the best of me. I dug up my book and was surprised to see no mention of the Ford brain trust visiting the Kalmar facility back in the 1970s. After looking through the other half-dozen Volvo books I own, I saw no reference whatsoever in the sections on the 262C. But I know I read it somewhere, dammit! Fortunately, CJ backed up the info by providing a link to a story in The New York Times archive. If you’re not the link-clicking type, below is a summary, borrowed from another site.

“Volvo’s first luxury coupe, the V-6-powered 262C, had an unusual genesis, as explained by Bob Austin, who was a 31-year Volvo employee and the company’s director of marketing communications from 1991 through 2001: ‘Volvo was at the leading edge of reinventing factory work in the 1970s. The CEO, Pehr Gyllenhammar, felt life in the car business was inhumane—that factory work only took advantage of people’s arms and legs.

“He authorized the building of Kalmar, the new factory that became the world’s first automotive team assembly plant. People worked in small groups, and the cars moved from station to station—they felt that with more worker engagement, there would be fewer defects, fewer work-related injuries, and reduced employee turnover. Automakers around the world were interested in this plant, and in the mid-1970s, an American industrialist entourage led by Henry Ford II traveled to Sweden to inspect the factory.

“When they arrived, they brought over a number of cars to drive, all two-door Lincoln Mark coupes with low roofs and wide C-pillars. American cars were rare in Sweden, and they caught the attention of people both inside and outside of Volvo. We wanted to build a car like that, but we knew it would have to be done off-line and that the tooling costs would be too much. Our people were talking to the people at Carrozzeria Bertone at an auto show in Europe, and Bertone expressed great interest in the project; the two companies had previously teamed up to build the Europe-only 264TE limousine.”

I found another link from Hemmings that told essentially the same story. Verrrrry interesting, as the late, great Arte Johnson frequently said on Laugh-In back in the ’60s. Although I always DID think these looked like a Volvo version of the then-current Eldorado and Continental Mark V and Mark VI coupes. The Brougham for people who think?

As most of my three regular readers know (four on weekends!), I am a big fan of Cadillacs and Lincolns from the 1970s. Combine that with all the Volvos my parents owned when I was growing up, and here we have the perfect hybrid. I’ve always loved those seats. Like buttah! But I never knew how the car had come to be in such detail before CJ piped up. So, thank you sir. I may not have seen a 262C since the ’80s, but I still love these cars.

The post 1977–81 Volvo 262C: That most Broughamtastic Volvo appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Just one look at the MX-81 and you’d think Mazda’s love affair with Italian design began in the 1970s. But you’d be mistaken, because its relationship with Bertone began in 1962, when the Italians were tasked with styling the 1965 Mazda Luce executive sedan. As with most concept cars of the ’70s, the Mazda MX-81 (a.k.a. Bertone Aria) reimagined how humans could interact with the automobile. It was born out of contemporary studies of aerodynamics, ergonomics, and the notion of integrating those expensive computer things into automobiles of the future.

The reality anticipated by the wedgy MX-81 and its conceptual brethren still feels futuristic and superior relative to our landscape of endangered coupes, belittled sedans, boring CUVs, and gargantuan pickups. Which makes the fact that Mazda’s upcoming MX-30 electric CUV spurred the MX-81’s rebirth only more ironic—but I’ll accept any reason to treat a long-forgotten concept car to a full restoration.

Now about that rebirth. After decades of slumber, Mazda yanked the MX-81 out of a warehouse in the Fuchizaki district of southern Japan, transporting it to its corporate HQ. A mechanical resurrection ensued, complete with fresh fluids, engine tune-up, fresh brakes, and some track time to ensure everything worked as per the MX-81’s stated purpose circa 1981. The cross-cultural concept was then shipped to Turin, where the restoration specialists at SuperStile performed a full exterior and interior refurbishment.

As mentioned previously, Mazda wanted to use the MX-81 to underscore the radical nature of its MX-30 electric crossover. The highlight came when, in March of 2021, the MX-81 met its spiritual successor at the same place that made it a one-hit public-relations wonder back in the 1980s: Milan’s famous Duomo di Milano cathedral. The original photo made the MX-81 something of a cult classic in corners of the Internet dedicated to fans of minimalist design and synth-pop culture.

So there it is: One masterpiece of Renaissance architecture, one high-water mark of conceptual Italian wedge styling … and one boring CUV with electric propulsion? Perhaps it’s because I played with toy cars modeled after Bertone’s masterpieces, but the MX-30’s milquetoast design suggests the wildly imaginative MX-81 actually has the cutting-edge electric bits. What’s presented in this 2021 photo op is less “Three’s Company” and more “Three’s a Crowd,” but I’m sure the MX-30 will look totally radical and forward-thinking when parked next to its contemporary CUV competition. (The same will hold true when viewed from the eyes of folks too young for my 1980’s TV sitcom analogy. No matter, back to the story.)

Legend has it that Mazda asked Bertone to make a concept car to wow attendees of auto shows for the 1981 season. The constraints laid down by the Japanese firm were significant, requiring that the current-generation Mazda Familia (Mazda GLC in America) underpin the design. The end result was a “great little car” just like its blueprint, even if this four-seat, two-door coupe looked far too similar to 1979’s Bertone/Volvo Tundra concept car. Even the MX-81’s earthen color palette was inspired by the then-two-year-old Swedish concept.

The idea-recycling continued under the minimalist Italian skin, as Mazda’s new fuel-injected, turbocharged four-cylinder motor made its debut in the MX-81, two years before release in the (JDM) Mazda Familia XGi-R Turbo. In production trim Mazda’s E5T motor churned out 114-ish horsepower, so it had the performance potential in a tiny concept car with a Cd of 0.29.

Of course, that’s assuming the MX-81’s nonsensical tiller permitted the driver to steer it at speed with precision. The Italians were known for radical notions back then, and a plastic (rubber?) belt stretched around the dashboard binnacle is certainly the stuff of auto-show excitement.

Thought-provoking steering methodology aside, the MX-81’s interior is littered with auto-show fodder that’s now the stuff of synthwave dreams: digital displays, ancillary switches and a CRT screen inside the steering wheel, Clarion(?) hi-fi tuner and cassette player, and a pair of swivel bucket seats with sci-fi styling. If the night club in Logan’s Run had a VIP room, well, you’d be looking at it.

Relative to the radical themes the MX-81 presented to the public in ’81, the concept’s modern-day restoration at SuperStile was was entirely traditional. While component removal and installation from a bespoke creation won’t progress as smoothly as a mass-produced vehicle, the basics of a glass out/full body respray are the same no matter the subject.

The same applies to the interior. While the cloth seat inserts needed only a steam cleaning, new leather was added in some places. Functional bits like the delicate window mechanisms underwent a refurb—a time-consuming task, if my time spent with Lamborghini Urraco window lifts is any indication—but the carpets looks as durable as the stuff used in Brutalist commercial buildings of the era. Who knows how much work was needed to get the dashboard wizardry back to life, or if the technicians went to that trouble.

Given what most folks read about on the Internet, I know the MX-81 doesn’t have the cachet of Harley Earl’s Y-Job or even the pop of Marcello Gandini’s Lancia Stratos Zero from the same era. Mazda’s aerodynamic wedge is a variation on a theme, and perhaps the 1979 Volvo Tundra from whence it came is more appealing because of the normal steering wheel and rational amounts of glazing. Still, the MX-81 is a show-car sweetheart, and its pop-up headlights with complementary signal lights did inspire Mazda’s designers. What you see above is likely the inspiration for the front fascia of both the Mazda RX-7 (FC) and the shockingly sleek 323 F hatchback. Recent trends may have condemned the MX-81 to obscurity, but it deserves no such fate.

The post Mazda broke the bank to restore this 1981 Bertone concept for a photo op appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Spain’s Running of the Bulls is a world-renowned man vs. beast showdown in which thrill-seekers try to outrun stampeding cattle without getting gored (who can forget Billy Crystal’s painfully funny failure to get out of the way in City Slickers?).

Now there’s a new Running of the Bulls which caters to Lamborghini-loving automotive enthusiasts. A collection of six raging bulls will cross the block—calmly, and one a time—at RM Sotheby’s Paris Auction being held online February 13, 2021.

The impressive group of Lamborghinis includes a 1969 Islero GTS, a 1967 400 GT 2+2 by Touring, and four works of art from Bertone: a 1971 Miura P400 SV, 1977 Countach LP400 Periscopio, 1984 Countach LP500 S, and 1968 Lamborghini Espada Series I. RM Sotheby’s estimates the cars’ total value at €4.18 million–€4.97 million ($5 million–$6 million).

“Despite a lack of competition history for much of Lamborghini’s existence, collectors are taking them more seriously these days,” says Hagerty Manager of Analytics John Wiley. “Ground-breaking models such as the Miura are getting lots of new attention, and the Countach is warming up again.

“This collection has a great mix of some of Lamborghini’s best cars, including three examples of its best front-engine cars, joined by three mid-engine V-12 cars in desirable specs. This sale will likely be another milestone in Lamborghinis’ rising collectability.”

1967 Lamborghini 400 GT 2+2 by Touring

Estimate: €450,000–€550,000 ($547,762–$669,487)

Average #2 (Excellent) condition value: $545,000

As RM points out, in many ways the 400 GT 2+2 is the genesis of Lamborghini’s contrarian view on car construction. While period Ferrari production cars descended from competition models, “the 400 GT was free to forge its own identity as a grand touring car.” The GT features Giotto Bizzarrini’s 4.0-liter V-12 engine with dual overhead camshafts (at the time, Ferrari only offered single overhead camshafts on its road cars). This one also comes with Polo Storico certification from the company’s heritage division, verifying its originality.

1968 Lamborghini Espada Series I by Bertone

Estimate: €180,000–€220,000 ($219,105–$267,795)

Average #2-condition value: $96,000

Lamborghini finally offered a proper four-seat GT as a replacement for the 400 GT 2+2 when the Espada was unveiled at the Geneva Motor Show in 1968. The coupe, penned by Italian designer Marcello Gandini, amazed show goers with its long, low proportions and with its likeness to two previous Bertone show cars, the Jaguar Piranha and the ill-fated Marzal that Lamborghini had unveiled a year prior.

In Robert “Pete” Petersen’s last interview before his death in 2007, the founder of Hot Rod and MotorTrend magazines and the Petersen Automotive Museum called the Espada his favorite car design.

If you look closely, you’ll notice that RM’s pre-auction estimate for this one is considerably higher than our listed average value. That’s because, Hagerty’s Wiley says, “The Espada is way more popular—and more valuable—in Europe. Since 2015, four of the top five sales of Espadas at auction have been in Europe.”

1969 Lamborghini Islero GTS

Estimate: €400,000–€450,000 ($486,900–$547,762)

Average #2-condition value: N/A (1968 model: $230,000)

Lamborghini refined its front-engine design philosophy with the Islero, which featured aerodynamic flip-up headlights and sharper, more angular styling. The top-of-the-line GTS was the last Lamborghini to follow the traditional grand touring format: 2+2 coupe with a 12-cylinder, naturally aspirated engine mounted up front. For 1969, S and GTS models became more powerful, thanks to an improved engine compression ratio. Only 225 Islero sports coupes were built in total, 100 of which were Islero S and GTS models. A “base” version sold for $258,000 on Bring a Trailer in April.

1971 Lamborghini Miura P400 SV by Bertone

Estimate: €2,100,000–€2,500,000 ($2,556,223–$3,043,123)

Average #2-condition value: $1,950,000

Oh, how we love the Miura—and we aren’t alone, considering what collectors are willing to pay for one. Conceived by a young team that included Gandini and chassis engineer Gian Paolo Dallara, the Miura that Lamborghini rolled out in 1966 is often referred to as the first supercar. The best was yet to come, though: the Miura SV. Improving on the Miura S’s 370-hp factory-rated output, the SV managed 385 hp from a reworked engine with revised cam timing and higher capacity carburetors. Only 70 were built.

“The experience of driving a Miura is difficult to put into words,” test driver Valentino Balboni told us in 2016. “It’s a huge feeling to have the [V-12] engine behind your ears. It is one complete unit—car and driver work in sync. It’s so precise. You feel like you are part of the car.”

1977 Lamborghini Countach LP400 Periscopio by Bertone

Estimate: €750,000–€900,000 ($912,937–$1,095,524)

Average #2-condition value: N/A (1976 LP400: $640,000)

If you’re of a certain age (50-something?) and love cars, you definitely know the Countach. However, you’re probably picturing the later models in your mind, the ones that featured giant rear wings. Turn your attention to the first iterations.

Only five years after the Miura debuted at the Geneva Motor Show, Marcello Gandini unveiled his masterful Countach prototype, and Countach LP400 “Periscopio” (periscope) models remained most faithful to his original design. The first-year production LP400s featured a Donnelly Mirrors-developed rear-view “Periscopio” system, concealed in the passenger-side roof. This example is one of only 23 built in 1977.

1984 Lamborghini Countach LP500S by Bertone

Estimate: €300,000–€350,000 ($365,175–$426,037)

Average #2-condition value: $365,000

The Countach was already the poster-worthy fantasy car of thousands by the time the LP500 arrived. The more recent iteration featured a revised 4.8-liter V-12 mill that produced 375 hp and propelled the car to a top speed of 160 mph. A factory rear wing was available, but the original owner of this one did not check that box on the order sheet. Lamborghini built only 321 LP500S models.

Think Billy Crystal is up for another Running of the Bulls? He likely won’t need a doctor this time around—just a hefty bank account.

The post 6 Lamborghinis stampeding across the block in Paris appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Berlina Aerodinamica Tecnica 5, 6, and 9—better known to automotive enthusiasts as the Alfa-Romeo B.A.T. cars—are on their way to a new home. The aerodynamic 1950s concept cars sold for $14.84 million at RM Sotheby’s Contemporary Art Auction on October 28 in New York. The presale estimate was $14M–$20M.

Hagerty auction editor Andrew Newton says bidding stalled at $12M before slowing rising in $250,000 increments.

“While these cars represent a pure mixture of form and function—and they’re incredibly aerodynamic even by today’s standards—their dramatic shapes are what make them so spectacular. For that reason, it made sense to put them in a contemporary art auction,” Newton says. “The price also makes sense or may even be a bit modest since it bought three of the world’s most famous concept cars—and they really do belong together.”

Bertone built the dynamic trio in 1953, ’54, and ’55 for the annual Turin Motor Show, exhibiting its artistic vision and hopefully inspiring other designers to expand reach for higher creative heights.

The B.A.T. cars were reunited under single ownership in the early 1990s. The last time they changed hands was in 2005, when they were purchased by the Blackhawk Museum for $8M.

B.A.T. 5, displayed at the 1953 Turin Show, was the final iteration of Scaglione’s full-sized models, following four prior attempts. It was based on the Alfa Romeo 1900, but it looked like nothing the public had ever seen. B.A.T. 7 was even more outlandish, but B.A.T. 9 resembled an actual road-going car more than its predecessors. All three were running, driving vehicles, and their impeccable craftsmanship make them true works of art.

***

Check out the Hagerty Media homepage so you don’t miss a single story, or better yet, bookmark it. To get our best stories delivered right to your inbox, subscribe to our newsletters.

The post Legendary Bertone B.A.T. cars sell for $14.84 million appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Italy is home to some of automotive history’s most expressive and impactful designs, but even among the nation’s best-remembered concepts and productions cars there is a trio of masterworks that stands apart. Bertone built three concepts for Alfa Romeo in the mid-1950s—the Berlina Aerodinamica Tecnica 5, 6, and 9,—as a show of artistic vision at the 1953, 1954, and 1955 Turin Motor Shows, respectively. These jet-age marvels inspired an entire generation of designers, particularly in Detroit, to explore ever-more aspirational and creative heights for the vehicles that moved us. Reunited under single ownership in the early 1990s, the Alfa B.A.T. cars are headed to Sotheby’s Contemporary Art Auction in New York on October 28.

The B.A.T. “triptych”

Nuccio Bertone and Franco Scaglione were the dynamic duo behind the B.A.T. cars. With the prestige and pedigree of Bertone’s namesake design house, alongside the aeronautics-inspired technical know-how that Scaglione brought to the table, the pair made their first big splash in 1952 with the gorgeous Abarth 1500 Biposto concept. The car’s combination of aerodynamic-focused styling and dramatic flair prompted Alfa Romeo to wade into similar waters, tapping Bertone to deliver the goods.

First came the B.A.T. 5, shocking onlookers at the 1953 show in Turin. It was the final iteration of Scaglione’s full-sized models, following four prior attempts. Although it was based on the Alfa Romeo 1900, the 5 looked like nothing else on the planet. Scaglione’s dedication to minimal drag through study of laminar airflow and stability yielded a form that pushed boundaries in every sense. The wide front end featured a two prominent pontoon fenders flanking a pair of massive grilles, which had hideaway headlights and horizontal slots directing cooling air to the radiator. Under the rounded hood and two rounded vents was Alfa’s four-cylinder tipo engine, here modified with dual side-draft carburetors and making about 43 hp. The humongous fenders (with front brake vents) directed the eye along the side body and to the rear wheel skirts, topped by a pair of towering tailfins. The elegant curves of these fins framed the tapered split-window rear and dome-shaped wrap-around glass cockpit. The car’s coefficient of drag was roughly 0.23—a mind-blowing figure for an actual running, driving car given that even today’s super-slippery Toyota Prius and Tesla Model S have slightly more drag with a Cd of 0.24.

For Turin’s 1954 show, the B.A.T. 7 got even more outlandish. While all of the same basic elements remained, including the 1900 running gear, Scaglione exaggerated several key components to even greater effect. The front air intakes became narrower and the hood two inches lower, accentuating the protruding nose. The hood lost its two vents, creating a more harmonious transition to the glass and roof. And then, of course, the fins, which extended and pitched more aggressively inward over a spectacular split rear-glass with a more prominent center spine. Not only did this evolution of the B.A.T. 5 render a more impressive drag coefficient of 0.19, but Scaglione and Bertone managed to also trim 200 pounds of weight for a total of 2200 pounds.

At long last came the B.A.T. 9. Premiering at Turin’s 1955 show, the ultimate realization of Scaglione’s vision resembled an actual road-going car more than its two predecessors. The enlarged and covered headlights play a big role in that effect, as do the familiar Alfa Romeo triangle grille and crest. 9 arrived without the rear wheel skirts, and the tailfins were simplified to allow for a semblance of rear visibility. The grille was once again slimmed, and the hood is visually lowered to further enhance the slope of the front hood.

Works of art

In art history, a “triptych” is a traditional three-paneled painting that was widespread across Europe in Christian art of the Middle Ages. Often, the three distinct elements of a triptych tell a story. While were plenty of influential design concepts in the 1950s, the story of the B.A.T cars is special for several reasons. First, their sheer adventurousness put them in an entirely different league than any prior concept car. As former General Motors designer Robert Cumberford remembers it, they had a big influence in Detroit and particularly on Harley Earl: “I remember them being put up on the wall at GM’s Styling Section. They were so dramatic—way over the top compared to the GM Firebird or any of the other Detroit show cars. But what was truly astonishing was that such beautiful forms and surfaces could be made by hand, and flawlessly. These were masterpieces of metalwork,” he said. “We looked at the B.A.T. cars closely while we were working on the C2 Corvette.” The extreme surfaces, Cumberford notes, had an enormous influence on the technology of metalworking as American automakers sought to replicate such results on an industrial scale. The 1959 Chevrolet is one example.

Beyond their envelope-pushing design, however, was the fact that each of these three unique concepts was a running, driving vehicle that could drive on the street. In fact, Bertone came so tight up against its deadline for the B.A.T. 7 in 1954 that Nuccio and Scaglione personally piloted the car to Turin in time for its reveal to the public.

Just one vehicle of such import and impeccable craftsmanship would be significant, but for all three to be together offered as a single lot is a major moment that even those outside traditional automotive spheres have to take notice. It’s no surprise, then, that RM Sotheby’s is presenting the three B.A.T concepts for sale at its Contemporary Art Evening auction in New York City, where they will be treated as fine art in the purest sense. New York’s own Museum of Modern Art set the precedent for including particularly worthy examples of industrial design in its own collection, but Scaglione’s “triptych” is different in that these vehicles are true examples of rolling sculpture. As RM Sotheby’s Chief Marketing Officer Ian Kelleher puts it, “Each of these vehicles is totally individual but designed by the same man, according to the same principles,” Kelleher says. “When you look at how they fit into the realm of 1950s design and the jet age, it’s clear they deserve to be treated as art. When people unfamiliar with cars see them in person, the first thing they tend to ask is if they can even be driven. In this case, yes, they’re all functional.”

Cumberford, for one, agrees that the trio deserves this sort of reverence. “Like Brancusi’s Bird in Space, these are objects to look at, to consider. It should be not at all surprising that we regard them as works of art.”

Of course, high-end art generally does not come cheap. For these Italian triplets, RM Sotheby’s is estimating $14M–$20M.

***

Check out the Hagerty Media homepage so you don’t miss a single story, or better yet, bookmark it. To get our best stories delivered right to your inbox, subscribe to our newsletters.

The post Bertone’s trio of B.A.T. concept cars could bring $20M at fine art auction appeared first on Hagerty Media.

We’ll just never run out of one-offs—or ultra-limited special editions that may take years to design and produce and yet still end up on the used market surprisingly shortly after wowing the show crowds. Collectors want these cars, and there are plenty of small companies who can satisfy that demand, using a combination of modern and traditional coachbuilding technologies.

A few years ago, Aston Martin CEO Andy Palmer told us that the company has two one-off build slots per year with a starting price of two million pounds and the option of total confidentiality. (I’m also aware of a few one-offs by other companies that we haven’t seen yet, and when it comes to small series specials, the list of bespoke creations becomes even longer.)

Remember Dutch collector Paul V.J. Koot, who intended to produce 75 aluminum-bodied Zagato Hyenas based on Lancia Integrale Evo IIs, only to find that Lancia parent company Fiat hated his idea, and forced him to end the venture after 24 cars? It was a similar story with Michael Stoschek’s New Stratos by Pininfarina for almost a decade, until MAT figured out how to turn that into a limited production model without the blessing of Ferrari.

But the story of Bertone’s final car before the bankruptcy, the V-12 Aston Martin four-seater you can now have, is somewhat different.

Apparently, collector and rally enthusiast Barry Weir became a Bertone customer after realizing that his Aston Martin DB7 was short on headroom, thus commissioning the Italian studio to completely redesign its interior. Then, in 2004, Bertone presented its homage to the 1961 DB4 GT Jet, the Vanquish-based Aston Martin Jet 2. Barry Weir was interested in purchasing that car, but was told that it was Lilli Bertone’s personal ride.

Fast forward to 2012, and Mr. Weir got a call from Italy, with Bertone wondering whether he still wanted an Aston-based 2+2 shooting brake. Following a positive response, Bertone sent its design proposal to Aston Martin, who were supportive once design chief Marek Reichman was assured Bertone would use its facelifted grille design. The donor Rapide went to Turin in December 2012, and by January, a full size clay model was ready. The Aston Martin Jet 2+2 by Bertone debuted at the Geneva Motor Show in March of 2013, making Barry Weir a very happy man indeed.

A 6.0-liter V-12 in the nose of a four-seater with a beige interior and plenty of lacquered wood. Other modifications include the rear hatch, full-length tinted glass power roof, and a sliding rear floor. Not a bad spec list for a luxury shooting brake, which now has 10,000 original miles.

Following Bertone’s demise, Vendor Classicmobilia is also offering the full-size clay model, along with the custom tooling that allows the Jet 2+2’s future owner to continue small-series production. Apparently, Mr. Weir bought those after Bertone’s assets landed at an Italian warehouse, as he recounts:

“When the car was built, Bertone were keen to build 10 cars and then Aston Martin wanted to put a version into full production. Unfortunately, Bertone went bust and it never happened. It meant, however, that mine became a unique example of an Aston Martin, an entirely new production car which consisted of just one vehicle. Now [that] we have the moulds, the clay model, the Jet 2 number plate and the finished car, I’m minded to sell the complete package and the buyer can choose what they wish to do with it. They could reproduce the car with the moulds and model or, alternatively, have it as a one-off production car which is registered as Aston Martin Jet 2; which is a new model.”

This is the complete production package, priced somewhere in the region of a brand new one-off by Aston Martin’s Q division. However, what the Q team can’t give you is the last registered Bertone design.

The post You can still buy the last Bertone V-12 special—and make more appeared first on Hagerty Media.