A groundbreaking design icon created to combat the spiralling size, weight and excess of modern cars – and remember, this was in the 80s. One wonders what old Clive would’ve made of the BMW XM.
As common a sight on the walls of American teen bedrooms as Carrie Fisher’s navel, the Fiero’s blend of baby supercar styling, mid-engined layout and cool AF name cemented it as 80s America’s attainable dream car. It was never much good to drive but thankfully, the US has so few corners that no one ever realised.
So wedgy it makes a Countach look fat, and boasting what remains one of the most outrageous cockpits ever seen on a car, the Series 2 Lagonda is pure 80s excess. It never bothered itself with anything as gauche as being “commercially successful” or “a good car that worked properly”, but simply as a slice of period opulence, it’s unmatched.
Everyone wants Superman’s powers, but not everyone is willing to go out in public with their pants on over their trousers. Likewise, Ferrari observed in the 80s that not everyone who wanted to experience its sublime V12 felt comfortable in a conspicuous red spaceship. The solution was the understated, monochrome, achingly cool 400 and 412: Clark Kent on wheels.
With an Isuzu engine and front-wheel drive layout, the revamped Elan was hardly a titillating prospect on paper. But as Confucius probably once said: “They who judge a Lotus by its spec sheet are bloody fools.” This little gem is case in point.
Pre 1987, it was hard to believe a set of car doors could possibly be more exciting than the scissor jobbies of a Lamborghini or the gullwings of a Mercedes 300SL. And then Bimmer said “hold mein brau” and dropped the Z1, whose doors disappear into the bodywork at the push of a button. Frustratingly, BMW continues to ignore our emails pleading to make this a factory option on the Z4.
Not R for “Race” (good heavens no!) but for “Road holding”. And hold road it jolly well did, old sport. Sure, grip is easy to come by when you have the weight of Balmoral pressing you into the tarmac, but the Turbo R was more talented than that. It’s one of the earliest examples of a Bentley exhibiting the gentleman/hooligan split personality now synonymous with the marque.
The near perfect first car in the 80s. Spunky young petrolheads loved its slick styling and crisp handling, while mum and dad appreciated its affordability and – given the strong likelihood of it ending up in a tree – Honda build quality.
So chuffed was Alpine with its efforts on the superb, rear-engined GTA that it took a celebratory 23 year sabbatical before returning with the equally wonderful A110. We eagerly anticipate Alpine’s next sports car – mark 2040 in your diaries, gang.
The defining trait of most late-twentieth century Lambos was a yearning desire to kill you at the very first opportunity. The Jalpa wasn’t like that. It was nimble and even – dare we say it – friendly to drive. Naturally, buyers were disgusted by this woke nonsense and a mere 400 were sold.
This isn’t a sleeper – it’s narcoleptic. Only a tiny badge, retractable spoiler and twin exhaust tips betray the fact that this is not the cooking Lancia Thema favoured by affluent churchgoing nonnas, but a very special beast powered by a 32 valve, 2.9-litre Ferrari V8. Lancia you nutters, how we miss you.
A race-derived hooligan of a muscle car that was so good, many believe Chevy has never managed to top it. Not to be mistaken with the less desirable Camaro RS of ‘89 whose cow-carrying capabilities were once thoroughly tested on a certain telly show.
In an era obsessed with tech and power, Mazda took a different route for their new sports car, prioritising lightness and tactility. Suffice to say, it went rather well for them. 36 years and 1.2 million cars later, the MX-5 is quite simply the most popular sports car ever made.
“Turbo” was the buzzword of the 80s. If your car had one, it was immediately cool, and it probably had a whopping decal emblazoned down the side to let everyone know. Maserati, of course, was far too sophisticated to put big stickers on its cars – so when it launched the first ever road car to sport two turbos, a far more understated approach was taken: naming the entire car after them.
Japan’s first ever mass-produced mid-engined car burst onto the scene in 1984, determined to prove fun could be frugal in the wake of the 70s oil crisis, and did so with real panache. While subsequent generations have often had to play second fiddle to contemporary MX-5s, the original MR2 was every bit as joyful as its opposite number from Mazda.
BMW’s all new iX3 heralds a move away from the gopping bucktoothery of recent models and a return to more familiar design cues, like a sharky, angular nose and modest kidney grilles. Values that have arguably never been expressed better than on the 80s 6 Series. The coolest BMW ever?
One of the great S Classes, from one of the golden periods of Merc engineering – coupefied. In period, exclusively seen in the fast lane of the autobahn, driver obscured by a plume of expensive cigar smoke, bearing down on some poor sap in a 5 Series at 155mph.
For every year of the 80s bar the first two when Cortina still ruled, the Escort was Britain’s best seller. It’s a fairly mediocre car, but it’s as iconic a symbol of 80s Britain as Princess Diana. Who, of course, famously had a hot one.
The first of many representatives of the bad old days of Group B to feature on this list, the 037 was the last rear-drive car to win the World Rally Championship before Germany rocked up with their Quattro tech and rewrote the rulebook. 200 road-legal homologation cars were required in order to compete in Group B – Lancia really pushed the boat out and did 207.
So pleased were Volvo with their handiwork that they kept the 200 series in production for almost 20 years. You can hardly blame them – these things were so robust you’d scarcely consider it properly run in after 100,000 miles. Many used examples can be found today sporting 300, even 400,000 miles on the clock. Spring chickens!
The baby Benz added an accessible entry point to the previously exclusive Mercedes owners club, granting the great unwashed access to the bank vault build quality and bombproof reliability Merc were dishing out at the time. It conquered everything from airport taxi duties to DTM and still embarrasses most modern machinery with its fit and finish.
The performance figures for old muscle cars usually have to be taken in context: “Yes, it barely produced 150bhp from its 19-litre V8, but it was like that back then!” etc. No such caveating is needed with the Grand National Experimental. It’s still rapid in today’s money but in period, it was Ferrari fast: 0-60 in 4.8 seconds and a standing quarter mile in 12.7.
Rally headlamps, bodykit, honking great big turbo and a tendency to try and torque steer into the nearest hedgerow. A working class hero that’s often overlooked in light of the subsequent bewinged Escort Cossie of the 90s, but deserves an equal place in British car culture lore.
Come for the Giugiaro bodywork and Busso V6 symphony, stay for the beguiling handling. The GTV6 was one of those rare Alfas – one that doesn’t require you to look past its various glaring flaws in order to enjoy the good bits. It’s the sort of car that causes us to forgive Alfa years, sometimes decades of producing absolute pants, because we know how special it is when it gets it right.
Saab’s pathological obsession with crash safety and build quality made even contemporary Volvos and Mercs look like slapdash bodge jobs. More impressive still is how, even with that giant bumper jutting out like a sulky child’s bottom lip, the 900 Turbo is easily among the coolest cars of the 80s.
People tend to think of the DS and CX when picturing wacky, comfy old Citroen saloons, and often omit the less visually striking XM. They shouldn’t – its groundbreaking hydractive suspension added an electronic brain to the existing system, bringing improved handling and less body roll, while retaining that sublime ride comfort. It’s not too late to bring this tech back, Citroen!
The greatest American/Italian collaboration since garlic bread, the Pantera was a relatively affordable wedge of exotica compared to Ferraris and Lambos of the time. Its Ford Cleveland V8 had its nads brutally snipped by US emissions regs – American cars were some 100bhp down on power compared to Euro spec models – yet the States is where it became a cult icon. Its production run spanned 21 years but the menacing wide body GT5-S of the 80s is surely the definitive Pantera.
The first high performance Merc wasn’t an internal project. Back then, AMG was its own enterprise, initially focused on building racing cars before moving into the customisation game. One day, Erhard Melcher (he’s the M) developed a groundbreaking V8 engine and dropped it into an E Class as proof of concept. The Hammer was born, Merc was so impressed it took AMG in-house, and it’s been making potty-mouthed music together ever since.
Next time you feel cool, pull up the picture of Tom Selleck – AKA Thomas Magnum – sitting on the bonnet of his co-star, the 308 GTS, sporting a blindingly white pair of trousers and resplendent moustache, and remember there are levels to this game.
In a time when “Win on Sunday, sell on Monday” still held true, the Sierra emphatically did both. The Cossie dominated touring car championships around the world for years, even taking famous endurance wins at Spa and Bathurst. 5,500 homologation road cars were made, 500 of those being the extra spicy RS500 variant – of which one recently sold for just shy of 600 grand.
The final Lotus whose development was overseen by the great man, Colin Chapman, and his fingerprints are all over it like a piano black interior trim piece. The Turbo’s four pot was always down on power compared to its Ferrari rivals but then it was, of course, lighter. And could turn into a submarine.
Fun fact about Porsche’s bug eyed, big chested V8 coupe: new, you could option it with a towbar. Rumour has it this was the doing of its designer and Porsche legend, Harm Lagaay, who insisted it be offered, so that he could use his own 928 to tow his race car to and from meets. Next time you’re feeling cool…
Having simultaneously invented and perfected the hot hatch with the Mk1 GTI, VW had sizeable lederhosen to fill when cooking up its successor. Thankfully, they didn’t overthink it. The Mk2 brought improved refinement and a more grown up feel, while the 16 valve version signified a major performance jump.
The old girl was pretty long in the tooth by the time the 80s rolled around, but before the deranged Diablo rocked up in 1990, this final edition Countach gave a little taste of the madness to follow. The 5000QV is the ultimate Countach: faster, more powerful and – somehow – wider than any previous model. A suitably unhinged swansong for one of the most outrageous supercars ever made.
A rugged, useful box, with added rugged usefulness. 4WD and raised ride height only increased the Panda’s aptitude for scurrying around the sort of mountainous roads and narrow, cobbled city streets that comprise so much of Italy. One of those simple, yet wonderfully effective cars that makes everything above it feel a bit silly and pointless.
Every now and then, around once a decade, something terrifying escapes the Renault factory. Something so utterly feral, it makes you question everything you think you know about what that company really is. But even the Megane R26.Rs and Clio V6s of this world feel restrained compared to the utter lunacy of the original R5 Turbo. Based on the beloved economy car, and sporting intakes that could inhale passing children like a basking shark hoovering up krill, it was mad even by Group B standards.
Most homologation specials are remembered as precisely that – obligatory road versions of race cars, that manufacturers build through gritted teeth to stay on the right side of the rules. The extraordinary thing about the E30 M3 is that you could almost be forgiven for forgetting its racing roots entirely, so celebrated is the road car lineage it spawned. Mind you, you’d be doing it a major disservice if you did – it remains the most successful touring car of all time.
It’s best remembered for its indestructible, endlessly tuneable engine, but the Skyline GT-R was so much more than that. Groundbreaking engineering innovations like rear-wheel steer and an AWD system that could send all the power to the rear gave the road car supercar-bothering cornering ability, and helped the race car wipe the floor with the competition, earning it its fabled nickname: King Kong. Wait, that’s not right…
Look, we’re not saying Group B shouldn’t have been cancelled when it was – while fun, it was undeniably a bit death-y. Still, it would have been nice if it had lasted just a tad longer, so we could have seen the first chapter of Ferrari’s hypercar quintet take to the dirt. The GTO arrived a little too late and never saw competition, yet still managed to cement itself as one of Maranello’s most admired creations.
We’d love to tell you we’re almost done fawning over Group B cars but that would be a lie. Anyway, this might be the most thinly veiled race car of the lot. It bears no resemblance to any other Ford product. Its roof scoops have roof scoops. It’s a mad, boosty little monster and one of the best things Ford has ever done. Yours today for a crisp half million.
Pre 1981, the idea of a high performance luxury saloon would have been considered self-defeating. And that’s precisely what made the first M5 so extraordinary: how well it played both parts, without any sense that one was compromising the other. A refined, regal, luxurious sedan with a lairy, motorsport-derived engine and supercar-troubling performance. The world had never seen anything like it and, 40 years on, the M5 lineage has hardly missed a beat.
Such is the volume of content online singing its praises that you might be forgiven for thinking the 205 GTI’s specialness has been overblown. Then you drive one. And for the next few days, in quiet moments, you find yourself chuckling, thinking about how eager it was to cock an inside wheel. Compelling evidence that modern hot hatches are massively overthinking it.
The Group B hardcores will be sharpening their pitchforks at the omission of the full-fat, mid-engined Delta S4 in favour of this, but hear us out. While tiny production numbers meant almost all Group B homologation specials instantly became unobtanium, the Group A-derived Integrale offered a marginally less insane – but still delicious – hit of the road-legal rally car experience for a fraction of the price, and in much larger numbers.
Paradoxically, the Astons of the 21st century have been defined by sleek, feline forms while the depiction of 007 during that time – with whom the brand is forever linked – has been one of brutish violence and drowning blokes in bathroom sinks. We reckon Daniel Craig’s Bond would’ve been better suited to one of these.
It can’t match the romance of the Lancias or the sheer insanity of the R5 Turbo, but in terms of legacy, there’s no question who the king of Group B was. With a groundbreaking drivetrain, it monstered the competition on track and in doing so changed the face of rally – and road-going performance cars – forever.
In a decade obsessed with forced induction, meet the final boss. Modern 911s – most modern turbocharged cars, in fact – work all sorts of magic to disguise the lag prior to their boost coming on, thus creating a sense of linear power. Early ones didn’t. The 930’s boost kicked in with pure violence, catching many an unsuspecting driver off guard and earning it its fabled “Widowmaker” moniker. Is it weird we miss the days when fast cars were a little scary?
If you think Back To The Future is exciting, wait til you hear the origin story of its starring vehicle. DeLorean’s tale is one of the most extraordinary in the history of the car industry, beginning with a charismatic maverick’s meteoric rise to fame and ending with an FBI sting and a suitcase full of drugs. Like its creator, the car never lived up to its promises, yet it remains one of the defining symbols of the 80s.
Look at it. Look at those strakes. The only way it could be more 80s is if Duran Duran were sat in it, solving a Rubik’s Cube. Elton John, Michael Jordan, Mike Tyson and Don Johnson (both on and offscreen) all had one. If not the best, it’s got to be the most iconic supercar of the decade.
Porsche’s rolling laboratory managed to arrive both early and late. Its development took so long that it missed the end of Group B, for which it was developed but, when it did arrive, the tech it showcased was eons ahead of any other road car. F1 grade active suspension, sequential turbos, aerospace-grade bodywork materials – it would take a whole article to list all the ways it moved the game forward. And yet, unlike most tech-forward cars, the 959 somehow looks and feels as futuristic today as it did in 1989.
String for door handles. If we were explaining the F40 to aliens, that’s where we’d start – nothing so perfectly sums up its maniacal pursuit of lightness and driving purity. The F40’s tactility and precision is comparable only to Caterhams and go karts – which is precisely what makes it so hilarious when you floor it and awaken the boost monster. For us, it’s the best car of the 80s.