Here at ViaRETRO we subscribe to the principle that “any classic is better than no classic”, which leads us to write about some unusual vehicles. We often like to champion the underdog. Although the team all have their favourites, we’re not snobbish when it comes to brands. We prefer to debate cars on their merits rather than according to which badge they wear. Some of the most interesting cars are those that failed, flopped or fell apart. You could say the ultimate ViaRETRO subject matter would be a car that is rarely seen, frequently maligned and is almost entirely lacking in pedigree. Today, we’re about to strike gold!
Put yourself in this position. It’s 1973 and you are a man beaming with self-confidence and influence. It’s been eight years since you became the youngest divisional chief in the history of General Motors, the world’s largest motor company, and you are now VP of Car and Truck Production. You take home $600,000 a year (equivalent to $3m today) and hang out with celebrities including Sammy Davis Jr and Johnny Carson. Away from work, you invest in consortium purchases of the San Diego Chargers and New York Yankees and you fully enjoy the jet set lifestyle. Your stellar rise may have rubbed some of your more conservative colleagues up the wrong way, but you’re the man with the sharp fashions, the sideburns and the style. You are widely expected to be President of GM within a few short years, king of the motor industry and friend to the stars. So, what do you do next? If you are John Zachary DeLorean, you unexpectedly hand in your notice and walk away.
Was he pushed or did he jump? DeLorean’s version was typically bullish. “There’s no forward response at General Motors to what the public wants today. A car should make people’s eyes light up when they step into the showroom.” He had his own vision and it was radically different from anything GM would dare to produce. DeLorean had wanted to make a statement car for years, ambitious in design and visually striking. All he needed was the right backing. A proposed deal with the Allstate Insurance Company proved a false start so DeLorean fell back on his core skills, wining and dining the banks, industry insiders and potential dealers. He got Bank of America on board and by the end of the year the project had gathered enough momentum for DeLorean to agree terms with Ital Design to work on the styling. DeLorean was not about to do things by halves.
Under the skin, Bill Collins, formerly of General Motors, headed up chassis development and a mid-engined platform was drafted. The engine would have to be purchased from the open market and after considering Wankel rotary power, Ford Cologne V6 and Citroen straight-four options, the new PRV V6 was finally selected. Developed by Peugeot, Citroen and Volvo, the alloy PRV was comparatively light weight, which was fortuitous when packaging requirements meant it had to be moved behind the DeLorean’s rear axle line. It only produced 130bhp in fuel injected 2,849cc federal spec, considerably less than similar applications in Europe, but it was deemed sufficient. Meanwhile, Giugiaro was busy giving the car unique visual impact. Stainless steel panels would be bonded to a fibreglass underbody, which in turn was planned to be bonded to a chassis made of foam and resin. Dramatic gullwing doors would be the car’s showstopping feature, a unique characteristic since the demise of the Bricklin SV-1. Not only did the car look futuristic but the plans for composite construction made elements of it truly cutting edge, if we ignore the boat anchor hung out back.
When the prototype broke cover in 1977, prospective dealers and investors were queuing up to get involved but DeLorean still lacked a place to build the car and was seeking incentives from territories with high unemployment. Frustrated by delays at other locations but never short of confidence, he identified a new target and flew to London. There, he managed to sweet talk the British Government into committing (at least) £77m to set up a brand new factory at Dunmurray, a few miles south west of Belfast. Northern Ireland in the late 1970s wasn’t an attractive place for businesses to invest, so the Government jumped at the chance of providing skilled jobs for 2,500 people in a deprived area. Workers would be taken from both the Catholic and Protestant communities, with the troubles reportedly being left outside the factory gates. The factory deal was quite a coup. DeLorean knew he had significant leverage with the UK parliament, and he would use it to the full.
Whilst the factory was under construction, DeLorean sent the prototype car to Colin Chapman at Lotus to be productionised. The Lotus team took one look underneath and deemed the whole thing in need of re-engineering. The composite underbody was replaced with an epoxy coated steel frame chassis, very similar to the Lotus Esprit. Rumours abound at the nature of the deal DeLorean struck with Chapman and how Lotus’ consultancy bill was to be paid. From the perspective of the FBI, Chapman’s death in an aircraft accident shortly after DeLorean’s 1982 arrest probably saved the English man from a lengthy prison sentence. As nothing was proven, the truth died with him and we will never know.
Engineering delays and budget overrun meant it was January 1981 before the first production DeLorean left the line. Wholly aimed at the American market and priced at $25,000, early interest was high but sales peaked at 720 cars in the month of October 1981. The car hit the market at just the wrong time and by the end of the year America entered recession and interest rates swung the wrong way for a car built in Ireland. Requiring a hefty injection of cash, DeLorean was faced with doors closing every way he looked. Despite a lack of demand leading to a rapidly increasing stockpile of unsold cars, he went on a hiring binge in order to syphon off more state aid from the government. However, that money was just a drop in the ocean compared to the size of the financial hole. In January 1982 the US Securities and Exchange Commission forced him to cancel a planned flotation of the holding company which would have raised $27m. The British Government lost patience and declined any more funding without matching from other sources. John DeLorean was backed into a corner and thought up alternative ways to come up with the money. In October 1982, his high risk strategy fell apart when he was arrested by the FBI for conspiring to smuggle $24m of cocaine into the US.
Opting to defend himself at trial, DeLorean successfully argued that the FBI’s informant was a career criminal and the sting operation had been entrapment. Somewhat unbelievably, on 21st September 1985 he was acquitted of all charges and left court a free man. When asked if he had plans to re-enter the car industry he replied, “Would you buy a used car from me?”. Don’t feel too sorry for the shifty old narcissist though, perhaps instead focus your sympathy on the impact it had on the Dunmurray workforce. Company records are incomplete but it is estimated around 9,000 cars were built in Ireland. The remains of the company were bought by Consolidated International in November 1982 and workers were brought back in complete the unfinished vehicles. The backlog was cleared, the spares inventory was shipped to Columbus, Ohio and that was the end.
Jump 40 years forward and DeLorean cars have a cult following. Recognition was boosted by a starring role in the Back To The Future film trilogy and several owners have converted their cars to Doc Brown specification. The Great British Car Journey recently hosted a DeLorean enthusiasts’ day which gave me the opportunity to try a standard non time-travel specification car for myself. Unlike the cars we feature in our Great Drives series, the DeLorean isn’t available for visitors to drive although it is on permanent static display. It wasn’t a chance I was going to decline.
Here it is, looking as alien as ever, a vision of the 21st Century, dating from the 20th. The party-piece gullwing doors make the car instantly recognisable, and their novelty means you can forgive the awkward body shapes required for entry and exit. Pulling the door shut from above, a solid clunk shuts the outside world away and you find yourself cocooned in the cabin. The driving position is comfortable and the controls fall naturally to hand. The high centre console divides the passenger compartment in two and whilst the whole “fighter jet” analogy is often overused by lazy writers as shorthand for anything vaguely sporting, there is a sense of being in something quite different to the norm. The only thing to spoil the illusion of potency comes when I notice the speedometer isn’t graded as high as 88mph, the magic threshold for time travel.
Keeping to non-time travel speeds, The DeLorean is evidently no racing car but I suspect it’s still way better than it would have been without Lotus’ input. Surprisingly for a car with American roots, the controls are quite weighty with a distinctly heavy clutch, which means it’s positive to drive. The unassisted steering is direct and the handling feels safe and responsive, almost agile compared to expectations. The gearchange is unobjectionable and the brakes are well up to early 80’s standards, which means they will stop you but there’s not a huge amount of feel. The DeLorean just needs to be faster. Much faster.
The factory claimed a 0-60mph time of 8.8 seconds for the manual transmission variant, but 9.5 is quoted elsewhere. Burden the car with auto transmission and you can add a second to that latter figure. Road & Track managed to coax one to a top speed of 109mph flat out, which really wasn’t anything to shout about. The rear mounted PRV V6 sounds a bit asthmatic at low revs but converts petrol to noise more pleasingly one you get a few revs on. DeLorean themselves recognised the lack of pace and sub-contracted development of a turbocharged model, but only four were converted before the whole venture was wound up. In testing the twin-turbo variant reportedly out-ran a Ferrari 308 and Porsche 928, which would have transformed the car’s credibility. In the absence of that, I have long suspected a DeLorean might be the only classic car where an EV conversion might actually suit its character better than the incumbent powerplant.
Quality wise, this example is well preserved but there’s no getting away from the fact it is a 40 year old car that wasn’t built that well in the first place. The interior is remarkably free of rattles but the fit and finish is a bit approximate. It’s all part of the charm these days but well-heeled contemporary buyers might have expected something better. With enough development it could have been refined into something really quite good, but the money ran out long before that could happen. Overall, it does feel more like driving a prototype rather than the finished article and I have to ponder what might have happened if the US economy hadn’t tanked. A well-built turbocharged DeLorean “Series II” would have been quite a thing.
Driving the DeLorean was a real privilege and while it’s not the greatest sports car ever built, it remains a fantastic curiosity. People love it and the reaction of onlookers is uniformly positive. This is a car that’s all about how it makes you feel. Who cares what it really drives like and who cares if it’s really any good. It’s got gullwing doors; isn’t that enough?!
Our thanks to the Great British Car Journey for the opportunity to drive the DeLorean. If you want to go and see it for yourself, visit https://greatbritishcarjourney.com.
