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I honestly wasn’t sure what to make of this one when I first saw it.

Audi’s Rosemeyer concept, one of the highlights of the 2000 auto show circuit, certainly isn’t a conventionally beautiful car. It is, however, fascinating in the sense that when I first beheld it, I was immediately curious about its design influences; I wanted to know why Audi had decided to shape its lines and details how they did, and even the genesis of its name. There had to be a lineage, a reason—Audi is too deliberate a car company to pen such a car on a whim.

In a nutshell, the Rosemeyer concept is Audi’s homage to the all-conquering
1934-1939 “Silver Arrows” Grand Prix racers. This crop of pre-war German monsters, fitted with massive, supercharged engines channeling, in the end, well over 600 hp through the skinny tires of the era were only truly mastered by a handful of top tier drivers, among them Rudolf Caracciola, Tazio Nuvolari and the concept’s namesake, Bernd Rosemeyer, killed during a land speed record attempt in 1938 on the then-brand-new Autobahn.

The Rosemeyer exudes a brutish, imposing, almost industrial presence. The brushed aluminum finish is catnip to a design enthusiast and the almost Art Deco features like the headlight eyebrows and four-spoke steering wheel make it look like something out of Fritz Lang’s landmark sci-fi epic Metropolis. Every line is rational, crisp, utterly Bauhaus, not classically lovely but completely mesmerizing. In a way, it reminds me of a Porsche 911 in the sense that if described objectively, someone not able to observe the car wouldn’t visualize a beautiful vehicle, but actually seen, everything works together perfectly; no detail seems to have been overlooked.

Furthermore, its shape whetted our appetite for that of the Bugatti Veyron. Even a casual comparison of the two brings out their similarities: The relatively small greenhouse, the horse-collar grille, the same general stance and proportions; they even share a mid-mounted W16 engine configuration (the Veyron’s fitted with quad turbochargers) and all-wheel-drive. But where the Veyron shares little with its marque’s predecessors save its grille shape, the Rosemeyer’s design connects with Audi’s lineage at too many points to count. I’d call it the superior design, and it’s a shame its creator declined to produce it, citing potential brand conflicts with Lamborghini, which Audi had recently purchased, as well as difficultly in translating the design into a production form at a certain price point.

Image credits: fourtitude.com

Editor’s note: This post is part of an ongoing series discussing Audi’s rich history of legendary concept cars. Read the other installments here:

• quattro Concept
• TTS
• Avus quattro

• Fantastic repository of classic Car and Driver reviews. I haven’t read nearly all of them (though I plan to), though I can tell you the Mustang vs Camaro vs The World comparo undertaken in the mid-’80s has a surprising—and pleasing—winner!
• Neat factory-produced mini-documentary on the awesome Koenigsegg Agera R’s suspension design. Interesting that they’ve essentially attempted to do mechanically what the McLaren 12C’s suspension does electronically; that is, to achieve optimum control of each wheel individually with the fewest number of compromises with respect to how other wheels are affected. I guess when you don’t have McLaren’s development budget, you have to be a bit more creative from an engineering standpoint.
• Left Lane relays new information emerging about Porsche’s upcoming supercar, the 960. Here’s the relevant information: Mid-mounted flat-8, four turbos, 650+ hp, 3,000 lbs, 0-60 in 2.5. Should be a hoot.
• Check out this video of a Bugatti Veyron W16 engine being assembled. The castings are works of automotive art, plain and simple (via Tamerlane).
• Feast your eyes on some of the most exquisite photography ever of the lovely Jaguar D-Type over at Automobiliac. Cast and hand-shaped aluminum FTW. My only question is, shown in the photo of the instrument panel, what use a race car driver would have for a speedometer? One’s speed at any given time seems like hardly the most relevant piece of information in the heat of battle…

Today we begin a new series spotlighting ill-conceived design trends, styling decisions that provoked more than their fair share of head scratching and features that turned out just plain ugly. Think of it as a repository for all those little mental “design notes” I file away as I observe the cars around me on my commute.

Designers have a number of “hail marys” they can throw when unable to successfully resolve the lines on a particular area of the car, but perhaps none is so obvious as the classic technique of just loading up the region with chrome.

Visualize any of the cars in this article with color-keyed bodywork in place of the chrome. What happens? The fascias of the cars become boring, uninteresting, dull, evidence that the contours and lines—the car’s visual bedrock—weren’t successful enough to stand on their own, without the “enhancement” of the shiny stuff.

For the record, I have no problem with chrome in general—when applied in a restrained, tasteful manner that supplements the car’s proportions and shapes, rather than becoming the main attraction (or detraction). As it is, with the examples shown, among others, there’s more frosting than cake.

Well, it should have been the main attraction at the 2013 Detroit Auto Show, rather than that vulgar, glitzy, warmed-over American icon that hogged all the publicity.

This is the first time in over a year and a half that this blog has highlighted a vehicle made by the South Korean giant, but with their HCD-14 Genesis Concept, they’ve earned some attention. A fascinating blend of American, British, German and Asian design themes, the HCD-14 takes styling cues from many different sources and fuses them into something that stands confidently on its own four tires.

The influences are obvious. The nose treatment and return on the back edge of the rear window are lifted from Aston Martin and the slope of the decklid very much resembles that of Audi’s gorgeous A7. Furthermore, most of the (few) chrome details draw from Asian design history and the whole car’s slab-sided “pillbox” proportions pay homage to classic American cruisers like late-’40s Hudsons and Buicks and more recently, cars like the Chrysler 300.

All that said, the HCD-14 creates an identity beyond the pastiche of influences by virtue of its emphasis on proportion over decoration (a common refrain around here), an achievement remarkable given the incredibly overwrought and at times head-scratching designs Hyundai has produced lately. It’s distinctive without being tacky, and exaggerated enough, in classic show car fashion, such that elements like the front end design and overall shape would hit the bullseye if toned down just enough for the production line.

For its part, the interior fails to break any new conceptual ground, but is understated (for a concept car) and quite inviting-looking, with themes that could translate easily to a road car.

Most significantly for Hyundai’s future design direction, the HCD-14 features a number of elements that could be easily incorporated into cars of different sizes and proportions, in the same way that BMW’s signature kidneys are versatile enough mesh with a variety of bodystyles. Take the simple, near-vertical grille shape and the way the inside apexes of the headlights relate to its upper corners—that design detail is very “portable” in the sense that, say, a sports car’s low, rakish shape could feature headlights of nearly the same shape paired with a similar, but lower and wider grille. The family resemblance would be present, and the sports car’s styling wouldn’t be compromised by having to graft an out-of-context “corporate identity” onto the fascia. The HCD-14’s shapes and details represent the first real, golden opportunity for Hyundai to build a long-term brand image. For that reason, among others, it’s a true standout.

Alright, so maybe the fact that the car’s only in the clip for the first 20 seconds doesn’t really warrant its addition to the “Movie Stars” post series, but indulge me. Besides, is there a more inspired choice for a music video car than a mid-’80s Ferrari 328? Big kudos to whoever’s responsible for making the car a part of the intro sequence to Sleigh Bells’ video for their song “Infinity Guitars,” whether the band, the producer or the director, Phil Pinto. It sets up the tone of the rest of the video, and as a bonus includes a bit of engine noise, making the Ferrari more than just eye candy. Well done indeed.

Editor’s note: This post is part of an ongoing series discussing cars which featured prominently on film or television. Read the other installments here:

• McLaren P1 (The Weeknd’s “Starboy” music video)
• Ferrari 328 (Sleigh Bells’ “Infinity Guitars” music video)
• Maserati Biturbo 425i (Licence to Kill)
• The cars of Back to the Future Part II
• Aston Martin DB5 (James Bond franchise)
• Sunbeam Alpine Mark I (To Catch a Thief)
• Adams Probe 16 (A Clockwork Orange)

As an avowed sufferer from Automotive ADD, this is what I want today. Saw one trundle by yesterday—bronze with black Fuchs—while I was putting up beadboard for my in-laws and I was freshly reminded of how much I like them.

Besides its universally-acclaimed attributes like world-class handling, good looks and a startling turn of speed in Turbo guise (internal model code 951), the Porsche 944 has a few technical quirks that particularly endear it to a fan of unconventional engineering like myself.

Click image to enlarge.

Take a look at the Porsche advertisement above. What seems like a fairly conventional layout (front-mounted, water-cooled engine) from an automaker known for beating their own path with the 911, upon closer inspection the 944 Turbo reveals some neat little engineering details:

• Rear transaxle. Perhaps the most obvious difference between the 944 and a more mundanely-engineered sports car is the location of the transmission. A key element of the car’s perfect 50:50 weight distribution and stellar handling, an unfortunate side effect is the fact that the clutch and trans arrangement is more difficult to service for those of us used to a more conventional layout.
• Rear suspension torsion bars. Another noteworthy feature of the 944 is the absence of coil springs at the rear of the car. Instead, Porsche equipped the car with torsion bars. Advantages include lower unsprung weight for better suspension geometry response, as well as a more compact installation, but aftermarket upgrades can be hard to come by.
• Under-engine exhaust manifold. This, to me, is the most interesting 944 Turbo quirk. When I first saw a 944 4-cylinder on an engine stand, I remember thinking, “The turbo’s on the wrong side.” However, given the compactness of Porsche’s installation and the fact that the engine is strongly canted toward the passenger side of the bay, the engineers must’ve run out of room to install a turbo and its required plumbing, so they simply routed the exhaust manifold under the engine to the driver’s side and located the turbo there. It’s a fascinating bit of make-it-work development rivaling Audi and Saab’s occasionally Rube Goldberg-ish turbo solutions. The length of the exhaust manifold isn’t ideal for quick spooling of the turbine, but Porsche compensates for this through careful manifold design, allowing them to incorporate a:
• Divorced manifold and post-cat wastegate exhaust return. Porsche was an early master of turbocharging technology, and their engineering decisions on the 944 Turbo show it. The wastegate location and intersection with the manifold and exhaust pipe are all crafted to allow the smoothest, highest possible energy flow into the turbo itself. Yes, there’s a bit of extra piping and complexity, but the arrangement pays dividends in performance and shows Porsche really knew what they were doing, in contrast to many of their less-experienced, downmarket contemporaries.

I love cars like this, ones that seem so common and run-of-the-mill externally but hold more than their share of mechanical uniqueness. In the 944 Turbo’s case, the external design was so successful that it spawned a number of imitators like the FC RX-7, and as such the styling blends in to the automotive landscape perhaps more than it should for something so attractive. The prevalence of its shape means one has to dig a bit deeper to find the design quirks, but they reward seekers with how well they reflect on their manufacturer’s performance expertise.

So the 2013 Detroit Auto Show is coming up, and the introduction overshadowing all other activity is that of Chevy’s 7th generation (C7) Corvette. It’s automaker’s halo car and bonafide proof that in spite of the general lack of quality of American cars compared to most of our rivals around the globe, we can create a world-beater when we put our minds to it. The C7 will undoubtedly exhibit pavement-buckling power from its signature pushrod V8, and astonishing capability around a circuit.

Chevy has announced a figure of 450 hp for the C7’s heavily revised LT1 6.2l mill. The new engine’s output complements updated suspension (still sporting transverse leaf springs at the rear) and a thoroughly reworked interior to address longstanding criticism of that aspect of the Corvette. The trip from a standstill to 60 mph is expected to take less than 4 seconds, while the car’s price is likely to comfortably undercut just about anything with remotely the C7’s level of capability.

So, completely void of sarcasm, it’ll be a fantastic car. The automotive press will burst into spontaneous applause when the veil is lifted Sunday night as scheduled, and wax lyrical over its specifications and abilities, amply hyped by the GM press machine.

And I couldn’t be less interested.

Let’s look at the formula: Front pushrod V8, rear drive, shark-y looks. That’s the Corvette template, and it hasn’t changed in the past 50 years even as Chevy has refined, perfected and polished it to its current state of brilliance. Again, I’m not arguing the car’s capability, or even how exciting it is to drive—I’ve no doubt it would utterly blow me away—but the concept of the car is beyond uninteresting at this point. The execution is near-flawless, but I (and many other enthusiasts) place a premium on creativity, and engineering adventurousness—and those two qualities are completely absent the C7’s specification.

So the idea of the Corvette bores me. But the most boring car on the road? Really? More so than, say, an Accord or a Camry? Well, yes. Consider: The Accord or the Camry’s laundry list of technological features is probably equally as uninteresting as the Corvette’s—but the Accord and Camry aren’t created to be exciting. There’s little contrast between the creativity invested in either their concept or execution; they’re thoroughly competent, full stop. The Corvette, on the other hand, was designed with driving excitement and excellence as an end goal, and as such the dramatic difference between the lack of originality in its layout or details and the dominant nature of its performance is front and center. I really can’t think of an less interesting car that does what it does so well.

But that’s the Corvette way. I really don’t expect anything to change when the curtain is drawn Sunday night.

1994 Monaco F1 Grand Prix commemorative postcard.
Click the image to enlarge.

Perched in the grandstands overlooking Tabac and Louis Chiron corners, here are selected photos from our second trip to a Monaco Grand Prix qualifying session, this time in 1994. In contrast to the usual fanfare that attends an F1 race, this was a somewhat somber event, being as it was the first race after the death of three-time world champion Ayrton Senna.

Senna’s Williams teammate Damon Hill raced alone that weekend, and the first two grid positions were left empty in tribute to the fallen Brazilian champion and Roland Ratzenberger, a Simtek driver who experienced a fatal crash during qualifying at Imola. German Michael Schumacher in his Benetton-Ford, having a penchant for the tight, twisty circuit, was widely expected to win the race, especially given his dominance of the early part of the 1994 season.

As for my experience, it was much as you’d expect: The smell of race fuel, the clear blue of the Mediterranean just a few hundred feet away and the wails of exotic V8s, V10s and V12s reverberating off the high-rises all around… Heaven. Enjoy the photos!

Race ticket. Click the image to enlarge.

Coming down the post-chicane straight toward Tabac corner.
Click the image to enlarge.

Blasting away from Tabac toward Louis Chiron. Click the image to enlarge.

Qualifying leaderboard. It was early in the session.
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A Footwork leading a Ligier and a McLaren through Tabac. Click the image to enlarge.

Future first-time world champion Michael Schumacher rounding Tabac in his Benetton. Click the image to enlarge.

The bitter end: One of Team Lotus’ last races. Click the image to enlarge.

Senna’s teammate Damon Hill soldiering on alone in the sole Williams
to race at Monaco that year. Click the image to enlarge.

My driver: Gerhard Berger in the incomparably beautiful Ferrari 412T1.
Click the image to enlarge.

Want more? Here are some pictures from our earlier trip to the Monaco GP in 1987.

Dovetailing nicely with the previous post, if you have an hour or so to spare, enjoy this clip. It’s part 1 of a 2-part documentary detailing what qualifies for some as the most technically fascinating period of Formula 1: the Turbo Era of the 1980s. It comprises a span of time, ending roughly with the banning of most electronic “driver aids” in 1994, when F1 technology was truly at the vanguard of automotive innovation. In some ways, the F1 Turbo Era is akin to the Apollo Era of spaceflight in that it stirred a sense of wonder with respect to its engineering achievements that really hasn’t been felt since. Sure, modern F1 tech is sophisticated in the sense that the execution is unparalleled and the engineers sweat the details, but in many ways an average sports car’s engine trumps its F1 racer’s counterpart, what with its variable valve timing, direct injection and advanced materials. At least for a little while, up until the early ’90s, engineers were given much more leeway, and in the process created absolute monsters of race cars that thrilled us and made us stand in awe of the men who could tame them around a circuit.