{"id":76110,"date":"2026-07-16T19:18:35","date_gmt":"2026-07-16T23:18:35","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.globalvillagespace.com\/tech\/?p=76110"},"modified":"2026-07-16T19:20:06","modified_gmt":"2026-07-16T23:20:06","slug":"overrated-cars-and-the-reality-behind-their-reputations","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.globalvillagespace.com\/tech\/overrated-cars-and-the-reality-behind-their-reputations\/","title":{"rendered":"Overrated Cars and the Reality Behind Their Reputations"},"content":{"rendered":"

What Drives the Enduring Mythology of Iconic Cars?<\/p>\n

Automotive history is replete with models that have achieved near-mythic status, their reputations burnished by nostalgia, clever marketing, or cultural symbolism. Yet, beneath the surface, the evidence suggests that many of these so-called icons harbor significant compromises, technical limitations, or outright flaws that are routinely overlooked. The persistence of these myths is not merely a function of engineering achievement but of collective memory, selective storytelling, and the interests of manufacturers and enthusiasts alike. This interpretive gap between reputation and reality is not trivial; it shapes consumer expectations, distorts the used car market, and influences the trajectory of automotive design.<\/p>\n

How Do Early Off-Roaders Like the Land Rover Series I Reveal the Limits of Dual-Purpose Design?<\/p>\n

The Land Rover Series I is often revered as the progenitor of civilian off-road vehicles, its agricultural robustness and mechanical simplicity celebrated in equal measure. However, the notion that it could serve as a true dual-purpose vehicle\u2014equally adept on road and off\u2014does not withstand scrutiny. The ride quality, compromised by leaf springs and a ladder chassis, is punishing on tarmac, rendering extended journeys a test of endurance rather than comfort. While its off-road prowess is undeniable, the evidence indicates that its reputation as a versatile all-rounder is more a product of necessity and nostalgia than of balanced engineering. The lesson is clear: the pursuit of universality in vehicle design often results in mediocrity on both fronts.<\/p>\n

Did the Volkswagen Beetle\u2019s Longevity Mask Its Technical Obsolescence?<\/p>\n

The Volkswagen Beetle\u2019s extraordinary production run and sales figures are frequently invoked as proof of its timeless appeal. Yet, by the mid-1960s, its rear-engine layout, lack of safety features, and rudimentary braking systems were increasingly out of step with evolving standards. The car\u2019s reliability, often cited as a virtue, may in fact reflect its mechanical simplicity and ease of repair rather than inherent durability. The Beetle\u2019s continued popularity thus appears less a testament to its technical merit than to the inertia of mass production and the power of branding. In this light, the arrival of the Golf was not merely evolutionary but a necessary corrective.<\/p>\n

Why Do Some Classics Like the MGB Persist Despite Obvious Shortcomings?<\/p>\n

The MGB\u2019s status as a British sports car icon is largely immune to critical reassessment, its inconveniences\u2014heavy steering, leaky hoods, and rust-prone bodies\u2014routinely excused as part of its \u201ccharacter.\u201d This immunity is partly structural: as competitors disappeared, the MGB became the default choice, its flaws normalized by lack of alternatives. The subsequent success of the Mazda MX-5, which delivered similar thrills with far fewer compromises, exposes the extent to which the MGB\u2019s reputation was propped up by nostalgia and market inertia rather than objective excellence.<\/p>\n

When Does Styling Trump Substance? The Buick Riviera and Cadillac Allant\u00e9 Cases<\/p>\n

American luxury coupes like the Buick Riviera and Cadillac Allant\u00e9 illustrate the pitfalls of prioritizing image over substance. The Riviera\u2019s imposing dimensions and V8 power were intended to evoke European sporting glamour, yet the driving experience was defined by vague steering and lackluster dynamics. Similarly, the Allant\u00e9\u2019s transatlantic production process and Pininfarina styling failed to compensate for its unremarkable performance and high cost. Both models reveal a recurring pattern: when marketing narratives outpace engineering reality, the resulting vehicles may achieve short-term buzz but struggle for lasting relevance.<\/p>\n

How Do Ownership Realities Undermine Critical Darlings Like the Alfa Romeo Alfasud?<\/p>\n

Critical acclaim for the Alfa Romeo Alfasud centered on its exhilarating handling and verve, but this enthusiasm was rarely matched by owners, who faced catastrophic rust and reliability issues. The disconnect between the road tester\u2019s week-long infatuation and the long-term owner\u2019s frustration is instructive. It highlights a methodological limitation in automotive journalism: short-term impressions often fail to capture the realities of maintenance, durability, and depreciation. The Alfasud\u2019s fate\u2014eclipsed by the more robust Volkswagen Golf\u2014demonstrates that critical praise is no substitute for practical viability.<\/p>\n

What Structural Factors Explain the Underperformance of British Executive Cars?<\/p>\n

The Rover 3500 SD1 and Bristol 412 exemplify the broader malaise that afflicted British executive cars in the late twentieth century. Despite promising designs and strong initial reception, both models suffered from inconsistent build quality, outdated engineering choices, and a lack of sustained investment. The SD1\u2019s regression to a live rear axle and the Bristol\u2019s reliance on off-the-shelf components from disparate sources reflect a pattern of cost-cutting and managerial indecision. In contrast, German rivals invested in continuous improvement, resulting in superior reliability and owner satisfaction. The British police\u2019s continued use of the SD1, driven by institutional loyalty rather than merit, underscores the role of non-market forces in sustaining flawed products.<\/p>\n

Why Do Ambitious Projects Like the Delorean and Bristol Fighter T Struggle for Credibility?<\/p>\n

Ambitious, low-volume projects such as the Delorean DMC-12 and Bristol Fighter T are often propelled by visionary founders and bold technical claims. Yet, the evidence suggests that such ventures are structurally disadvantaged: limited capital, untested supply chains, and overreliance on borrowed components undermine their ability to deliver on promises. The Delorean\u2019s brief moment in the spotlight was followed by rapid obsolescence, while the Fighter T\u2019s extravagant performance claims were never substantiated by meaningful production. These cases caution against conflating innovation with viability, especially when engineering complexity outpaces organizational capacity.<\/p>\n

How Do Market Shifts Render Once-Pioneering Vehicles Obsolete?<\/p>\n

The Daihatsu Sportrak and Ford Sierra were, in their time, attempts to bridge the gap between tradition and modernity. Yet, both were quickly overtaken by competitors\u2014Toyota\u2019s RAV4 and Vauxhall\u2019s Cavalier, respectively\u2014that better anticipated changing consumer preferences and technological trends. The Sportrak\u2019s ladder-frame construction, once a virtue off-road, became a liability as buyers demanded on-road refinement. The Sierra\u2019s rear-wheel-drive platform, cloaked in aerodynamic styling, failed to match the front-wheel-drive sophistication of its rivals. These examples illustrate the unforgiving pace of market evolution: yesterday\u2019s innovation is tomorrow\u2019s anachronism.<\/p>\n

What Happens When Performance Metrics Eclipse Usability? The Bugatti Veyron Dilemma<\/p>\n

The Bugatti Veyron\u2019s headline figures\u2014987bhp, 253mph\u2014are routinely cited as engineering triumphs. Yet, the practical significance of such performance is questionable. The car\u2019s extreme width, maintenance demands, and operating costs render it largely unusable outside of controlled environments. The Veyron thus embodies a paradox: it is both a technological marvel and a symbol of excess, its value more symbolic than functional. For most buyers, the marginal gains in speed and power are irrelevant; the car\u2019s real utility lies in status signaling and brand halo effects.<\/p>\n

How Does Brand Conservatism Stifle Genuine Progress? The Volkswagen Phaeton and Subaru Impreza STI WRX Hatch<\/p>\n

The Volkswagen Phaeton and the third-generation Subaru Impreza STI WRX hatchback reveal the risks of brand conservatism and misaligned product strategy. The Phaeton, conceived as a discreet luxury alternative, struggled to justify its existence alongside the more prestigious Bentley with which it shared its platform. Its subtlety, far from being a virtue, rendered it invisible in a segment defined by conspicuous consumption. The Impreza STI WRX, in its shift to a five-door hatch and cost-reduced interior, alienated core enthusiasts without winning over new ones. Both cases suggest that incrementalism and brand dilution can be as damaging as technical failure.<\/p>\n

What Should Informed Readers Conclude About Automotive Reputation?<\/p>\n

The recurring theme across these examples is the divergence between reputation and reality, a gap perpetuated by nostalgia, marketing, and selective reporting. For consumers, the practical takeaway is clear: skepticism is warranted when evaluating iconic models, especially those whose virtues are more often asserted than demonstrated. For industry observers, the lesson is that structural factors\u2014organizational inertia, market timing, and the limits of engineering ambition\u2014matter as much as, if not more than, headline specifications or design pedigree. Ultimately, the mythology of cars is as much a product of collective desire as of mechanical achievement. Recognizing this dynamic is essential for anyone seeking to separate enduring value from mere reputation.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\"It\u2019s<\/a><\/p>\n

Overrated is a strong word – we wouldn’t want you to think any of these aren’t much good, but they do have overlooked flaws<\/p>\n

\n

It\u2019s not a lemon list, more a herd of sacred cows about which the world thinks of in one way yet the reality can be slightly different.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n

All \u2013 or, at least, most \u2013 of these cars have some mega plus-points, but they also have reputations that are a bit larger than life. We take a look at some, and explain why those reputations can be over the top:<\/p>\n

\n

Land Rover Series I (1948)<\/h2>\n

\"Land\n<\/p>\n

The lovable Land Rover is hailed, quite rightly, as the grandfather of all civilian off-roaders, and how these very early vehicles can still perform in the rough is impressive<\/strong> \u2013 were you to submit your Series I to some farm life. \u2018Dual-purpose\u2019 is where the concept falls down.<\/p>\n

\n

Land Rover Series I (1948)<\/h2>\n

\"Land\n<\/p>\n

While there\u2019s no disputing it can, legally, be driven on tarmac, the experience is one that should be kept as short as possible in the best interests of your spine, teeth, joints and nerves as the leaf springs, chassis girders and hefty, turning axles make their jarring progress<\/strong>. Think of it as not really a car, and keep to the fields, and you\u2019ll be fine.<\/p>\n

\n

Volkswagen \u2018Beetle\u2019 (1950)<\/h2>\n

\"Volkswagen\n<\/p>\n

That a cheap, 1930s economy car design should survive on sale for some 60 years, and sell 21 million examples, is of course a phenomenon. It is, though, one celebrated today by people who would find a Beetle an appalling prospect, as it certainly did not set the pattern for the modern car. The rear-engined layout, and weight bias, is not the most forgiving<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

\n

Volkswagen \u2018Beetle\u2019 (1950)<\/h2>\n

\"Volkswagen\n<\/p>\n

And by the mid 1960s \u2013 the Beetle\u2019s heyday<\/strong>, especially in the US \u2013 the flimsy structure, complete absence of safety systems, and poor brakes was anachronistic in the extreme. \u201cBut it\u2019s so reliable,\u201d people said; or were they getting confused with the ease with which you could work on it? Yes, there\u2019s charm, but the Golf couldn\u2019t come along soon enough\u2026<\/p>\n

\n

MGB (1962)<\/h2>\n

\"MGB\n<\/p>\n

Here\u2019s another car whose venerability, like the Beetle\u2019s, has given it an aura that usually makes it immune to proper analysis. Introduced in 1962, it had monocoque construction and solid performance with all the inconveniences<\/strong> \u2013 sweaty cockpit, heavy steering, leaky hood, rust traps aplenty \u2013 that a sports car owner was expected to overlook.<\/p>\n

\n

MGB (1962)<\/h2>\n

\"MGB\n<\/p>\n

British Leyland decided not to bother replacing the car, especially as most of its rivals were discontinued so that by the B\u2019s demise in 1980, this living antique was the default sports car option. That\u2019s why it led the classic car boom, until the Mazda MX-5<\/strong> came along and proved that, yes, wind-in-the-hair for two could actually be done really, really well\u2026<\/p>\n

\n

Buick Riviera (1963)<\/h2>\n

\"Buick\n<\/p>\n

General Motors styling boss Bill Mitchell<\/strong>, like his predecessor Harley Earl, had this fixation that a home-grown roadster for the US highway should be something vast and imposing, while the late 1930s Lincoln Continental which evolved into the Continental II of 1956 had an enormity that no-one from Europe would consider remotely sporty.<\/p>\n

\n

Buick Riviera (1963)<\/h2>\n

\"Buick\n<\/p>\n

So when Mitchell conceived his \u201cAmerican Ferrari<\/strong>\u201d in the 1963 Buick Riviera, it became a skyscraper to Italy\u2019s bell tower. It was an enormous hardtop coup\u00e9 with a 6.6-litre V8 engine, admittedly beautifully styled, but a turnpike cruiser and not a sports car. It wafted along like a bed at the Beverly Hills Hotel, with vague steering and even vaguer brakes. Rolling sculpture for sure, but no Ferrari.<\/p>\n

\n

Alfa Romeo Alfasud (1971)<\/h2>\n

\"Alfa\n<\/p>\n

For about three years in the 1970s, the Alfasud Ti was the most exhilarating small car on the planet. Its grip, handling, verve and sheer joie de vivre wowed everybody who tried<\/strong> it<\/strong>. Then the Volkswagen Golf GTi arrived, and the Ti slunk into its shadow. The Ti, like all Alfasuds, is a classic case of a critically-acclaimed car that was often a disastrous prospect for actual ownership.<\/p>\n

\n

Alfa Romeo Alfasud (1971)<\/h2>\n

\"Alfa\n<\/p>\n

The magazine road-tester would have it for a week and then reluctantly hand it back, having raved about the way it drove. But then the beguiled buyer would watch the car disintegrate and corrode<\/strong> often mere months after taking delivery. You just didn\u2019t get any of that with the Golf.<\/p>\n

\n

Bristol 412 (1976)<\/h2>\n

\"Bristol\n<\/p>\n

Rolls-Royce money was required to purchase this targa-topped Bristol in 1975, along with the turbocharged Beaufighter edition of five years later. The separate chassis traced its roots back to the 1940s<\/strong>, although no doubt the car was still pretty capable, being fast, riding well and having a perhaps unexpectedly competent level of road manners.<\/p>\n

\n

Bristol 412 (1976)<\/h2>\n

\"Bristol\n<\/p>\n

Unlike a Rolls, though, or even an Aston Martin, with their handbuilt engines, you were getting in the Bristol a V8 power unit from a Canadian truck and \u2013 apart from a gleaming walnut dashboard and plump leather seats \u2013 parts from other cars that were somehow thrown into the mix in a haphazard way. The eccentric coteries of Bristol owners loved them, but connoisseurs quite rightly tended to head off towards the Porsche 928<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

\n

Lancia Gamma (1976)<\/h2>\n

\"Lancia\n<\/p>\n

As one of Pininfarina\u2019s most acclaimed production car designs, the Lancia Gamma Coup\u00e9 is a familiar 1970s high spot on the car enthusiast\u2019s timeline. Its saloon counterpart was and remains utterly overshadowed by it. Technically, it became an extension of the Lancia Flavia in using an all-aluminium, four-cylinder \u2018boxer\u2019 engine driving the front wheels.<\/p>\n

At a time when six cylinders denoted cachet in this market sector, it was a perplexing choice to go for a large, 2.5-litre four<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

\n

Lancia Gamma (1976)<\/h2>\n

\"Lancia\n<\/p>\n

Buyers had to balance an excellent pure driving experience on every front, five-speed manual gearbox and terrific roadholding included, with design flaws that included engine cambelt issues and worrying vibrations, and grave concern at patchy quality<\/strong>. Executive car owners also liked automatics but Lancia refused to offer one until 1983\u2026 Potentially it was a great car, but a poor product.<\/p>\n

\n

Rover 3500 SD1 (1977)<\/h2>\n

\"Rover\n<\/p>\n

Every British car enthusiast loves the beefy, five-door Rover with its V8 engine and Ferrari Daytona<\/strong> nose. It could almost be the law that you have to. Yet in the race to perfect the luxury sports saloon, it was BMW, Mercedes-Benz, Audi and possibly even Saab that set the pace.<\/p>\n

It wasn\u2019t just that the SD1 swapped its P6 predecessor\u2019s racecar-like rear suspension for an old-fashioned live axle.<\/p>\n

\n

Rover 3500 SD1 (1977)<\/h2>\n

\"Rover\n<\/p>\n

It was that Rover\u2019s workers consistently failed to deliver a quality job to those company bosses and city lawyers who were rooting for the marque. The German models were better cars overall, and spent more time with their owners\u2019 gravel than on the ramp in the workshop. Only the British police <\/strong>were forced to stick with it for reasons of patriotism.<\/p>\n

\n

Delorean (1981)<\/h2>\n

\"Delorean\n<\/p>\n

Is the Tesla Cybertruck going to be the Delorean of the 21st century? Quite apart from the fact that they both share hugely impractical stainless steel panels<\/strong>, seasoned industry watchers can sense a similar syndrome of pointless reinvention propelled by the hubris of an industry maverick. John Z De Lorean set out to teach the car industry a lesson by producing his idea of an ethical sports car, but it was a disaster.<\/p>\n

\n

Delorean (1981)<\/h2>\n

\"Delorean\n<\/p>\n

The car wove together a Lotus chassis, a Renault engine and gullwing doors that were not to be trusted; it had a short run of fame<\/strong>, and once it had sunk Porsche could get on and dominate the 1980s.<\/p>\n

\n

Ford Sierra (1982)<\/h2>\n

\"Ford\n<\/p>\n

The car that replaced the Ford Cortina in 1982 among the then hugely important fleet buyers had quite a task on its hands: to offer radical modernity and dependable familiarity at the same time. So while a great big fuss was made of its aerodynamic lines<\/strong>, underneath it was all old-school rear-wheel drive and Cortina-style Pinto engines.<\/p>\n

\n

Ford Sierra (1982)<\/h2>\n

\"Ford\n<\/p>\n

And while by no means awful to use, the Sierra hardly impressed, the later Cosworth-engined and turbocharged 4×4 excepted. Its new feature, a lift-back tailgate, also got a lukewarm reception, obliging Ford to add a four-door Sapphire<\/strong> to the range in 1987 that toned down the infamous \u201cjelly-mould\u201d profile. And while all this was going on, Vauxhall and Opel\u2019s acclaimed, front-wheel drive Cavalier simply leapt ahead in the fleet sales charts.<\/p>\n

\n

Cadillac Allant\u00e9 (1987)<\/h2>\n

\"Cadillac\n<\/p>\n

This two-seater Cadillac was the product, so they liked to boast, of \u2018the longest production line in the world\u2019. That meant that the bodies were constructed by Pininfarina in Italy and flown to the States for assembly in an \u2018air-bridge\u2019 operation in expensively-modified Boeings 747s \u2013 all of which was, really, of no tangible benefit to any buyer, and extremely costly<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

\n

Cadillac Allant\u00e9 (1987)<\/h2>\n

\"Cadillac\n<\/p>\n

The two-seater styling was also by Pininfarina, but was pretty unmemorable, with none of the character of the open-top Merc SL or Jaguar XJS<\/strong>. Introduced in 1987, the final cars in 1993 at least came with Caddy\u2019s excellent Northstar V8 engine.<\/p>\n

\n

Daihatsu Sportrak (1989)<\/h2>\n

\"Daihatsu\n<\/p>\n

The Sportrak, or Feroza as it was alternatively known, was a very good choice for thrifty mud-plugging in the early 1990s \u2013 the sort of thing every country estate manager would want, with four-wheel drive and a reasonable 1.6-litre engine from the Daihatsu Applause which, while not able to make it go like the clappers, was perfectly adequate<\/strong>. Along with the contemporary Suzuki Vitara, the Sportrak was the first compact sport-utility vehicle.<\/p>\n

\n

Daihatsu Sportrak (1989)<\/h2>\n

\"Daihatsu\n<\/p>\n

Yet history is sometimes unkind to pioneers. Just five years after the Sportrak\u2019s launch, along came the Toyota RAV4 and re-set the benchmark. The key difference? The RAV4 had a monocoque structure and was genuinely as capable on-road as off it<\/strong>; the Sportrak had a ladder frame chassis that the Romans would have recognised, and so would always be tiresome on the open road.<\/p>\n

\n

Pontiac Le Mans (1988)<\/h2>\n

\"Pontiac\n<\/p>\n

This nameplate gave the world some interesting muscle cars in the late \u201860s, but by 1988, not so much. If ever you were swayed to buy a car based on the allure of its name then this has to be the nadir<\/strong>; an ageing Opel\/Vauxhall Astra, built for maximum cheapness in South Korea by Daewoo, and sold across the USA as an entry-level Pontiac.<\/p>\n

\n

Pontiac Le Mans (1988)<\/h2>\n

\"Pontiac\n<\/p>\n

All the emphasis was on the bargain-basement nature of the offering, but any compact offering from Honda or Toyota would surely have been better<\/strong>, and a lot less plasticky.<\/p>\n

\n

Buick Park Avenue (1992)<\/h2>\n

\"Buick\n<\/p>\n

Something went quite awry between the unveiling of the 1989 Buick Park Avenue Essence concept car and the 1991 production Park Avenue. The former hinted at a dynamic new image for large US cars, but when the latter arrived it was little more than the usual softly-sprung sedan<\/strong> with its formerly rectilinear corners shaved off.<\/p>\n

The 3.8-litre V6 engine wasn\u2019t half-bad, especially in supercharged Ultra guise, but this was not a car to hurl around enthusiastically because its bench front seat was unsupportive and its ride soft and wallowy.<\/p>\n

\n

Buick Park Avenue (1992)<\/h2>\n

\"Buick\n<\/p>\n

A column gearchange and mediocre refinement meant it fell well short of any BMW or Lexus standards<\/strong>, and yet this car was actually exported to Europe as some kind of totem of American prestige. Ultra-kitsch value today, mind, assuming you could dig one up.<\/p>\n

\n

Bristol Fighter T (2004)<\/h2>\n

\"Bristol\n<\/p>\n

A car boasting some massive claims \u2013 such as 1012bhp in twin-turbo form<\/strong>, 225mph top speed, and a 0-60mph figure of 3.5sec \u2013 that seemed at definite odds with the world\u2019s smallest and least well-capitalised \u2018supercar\u2019 maker.<\/p>\n

Gullwing doors were another feature that you\u2019d rather have, if at all, engineered by Mercedes-Benz rather than some bloke in a West of England shed.<\/p>\n

\n

Bristol Fighter T (2004)<\/h2>\n

\"Bristol\n<\/p>\n

Actually, the Fighter T barely existed as a production car<\/strong>, although about a dozen standard Fighters were made, all with Dodge Viper V10 engines. And were the aerodynamics at all credible? Everything else so ridiculously rapid tends to need spoilers and air dams to tether them safely down, but maybe Bristol was taking its aircraft heritage seriously, and aiming high?<\/p>\n

\n

Honda S2000 (1999)<\/h2>\n

\"Honda\n<\/p>\n

The 1990s and early 2000s was somewhat of a golden era for two-seater sports cars, and this Honda should have gleamed the brightest, especially with its 2.0-litre engine being one of the most powerful non-turbo units ever installed to a road car \u2013 a scarcely believable 240bhp dished out at a screaming 8300rpm.<\/p>\n

Unfortunately, in the hands of the most experienced drivers, the overall recipe was deemed to be not quite right<\/strong>, despite all the attention on getting a 50:50 weight balance.<\/p>\n

\n

Honda S2000 (1999)<\/h2>\n

\"Honda\n<\/p>\n

Flaws include unresponsive electric power steering<\/strong>, an awkward driving position, and a frightening tendency to snap oversteer that would catch you out alarmingly. In its favour are a fantastic six-speed gearbox, drop-dead gorgeous looks, and classic status today, but a lot more brilliance was expected from the home of the NSX.<\/p>\n

\n

Volkswagen Phaeton (2002)<\/h2>\n

\"Volkswagen\n<\/p>\n

The Phaeton was intended as a limousine for the shy but rich individual who didn\u2019t want to lord it in a Bentley, but in fact this car only came to life precisely because it shared its 6.0-litre W12 underpinnings with the Bentley Flying Spur<\/b>. <\/span><\/p>\n

The Phaeton itself was the pet project of VW\u2019s scary chieftain Ferdinand Pi\u00ebch, anxious to give Volkswagen the range-topper he felt it deserved \u2013 and it was said, to keep his Audi guys on their toes – but the reception for it was lukewarm. <\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Volkswagen Phaeton (2002)<\/h2>\n

\"Volkswagen\n<\/p>\n

Fantastic machine, but overrated for its subtlety next to the Bentley, and very much unwanted<\/b> today by comparison. If Angela Merkel had designed a luxury car, it would probably have turned out like this.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Bugatti Veyron (2005)<\/h2>\n

\"Bugatti\n<\/p>\n

The top 10 most powerful cars on sale in the year the mid-engined French supercar was launched started at No10 with the 612bhp Porsche Carrera GT or Mercedes-Benz SL65 AMG and culminated at the No1 with the 987bhp Veyron. The Bugatti could also manage 253mph<\/strong>, making the quad-turbo, W16-engined two-seater the world\u2019s fastest car.<\/p>\n

\n

Bugatti Veyron (2005)<\/h2>\n

\"Bugatti\n<\/p>\n

But was it really, really worth all the mountains of extra dosh for a car that \u2013 in the real world \u2013 had power and velocity that no-one could actually use? It was also 2.0 metres wide<\/strong>, making it one of the most cumbersome of city-drivers, and there were 10 radiators to keep topped up. And it was extremely expensive to both buy and operate.<\/p>\n

\n

Subaru Impreza STI WRX hatch (2008)<\/h2>\n

\"Subaru\n<\/p>\n

The raw performance largely remained from the old days, with 300bhp and prodigious, four-wheel drive grip as the 2.5-litre boxer engine rocketed the car to 60mph in 4.8sec. But no matter what the marketing and statistics relayed, the character had been lost in Subaru\u2019s quest to broaden its hardcore Impreza\u2019s appeal and align it with Germany\u2019s performance best-sellers<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

\n

Subaru Impreza STI WRX hatch (2008)<\/h2>\n

\"Subaru\n<\/p>\n

The familiar three-box shape, with its giant rear aerofoil, was gone, and in its place came a blander-than-bland five door hatchback<\/strong>. Then, Subaru\u2019s cost-cutting team combed through the interior, making it as cheap and coarse as they could. It seemed like a shameful way to treat an icon\u2026<\/p>\n

\n

Toyota GT86 (2012)<\/h2>\n

\"Toyota\n<\/p>\n

The 2.0-litre two-plus-two seater was designed to get back to basics with its rear-wheel drive and skinny tyres, and you did indeed get quite a basic car. And not necessarily in a good way: inside, it was claustrophobic and cheaply finished. Oversteer was the major characteristic<\/strong> of the handling \u2013 okay for some weekend drifting on a disused airfield, possibly a liability on rain-soaked public roads.<\/p>\n

\n

Toyota GT86 (2012)<\/h2>\n

\"Toyota\n<\/p>\n

And there was a distinct lack of torque right in the middle of the rev range, which kind of put the kybosh on spirited everyday driving. None of it had to be this way, as Mazda\u2019s all-round excellent MX-5<\/strong> continued to demonstrate. The new GR86 takes the GT86 recipe and improves it.<\/p>\n

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