Tony Southgate the science of speed
The designer, whose career spans Sixties F1 to Le Mans prototypes via Group B rallying, explains the Eighties performance leap – and how engineering physics kept up
‘Tyre technology was responsible for the Eighties performance car boom,’ says Tony Southgate as he reflects on our quintet of five-second rockets. ‘They were getting wider and wider for a start, but in the late Seventies tyre companies started working with manufacturers to design rubber for specific cars, rather than constructors just buying them off the shelf. One of the most crucial of these was Renault – the 5 Turbo was a very brave move, but Michelin was basically paying half the costs of the project so it could develop its tyres using the car.’
Renault’s gamble worked, and as the Group 4 rules gave way to Group B, soon nearly all competitors were pursuing the strategy of an adapted hatchback monocoque with mid-engined configuration and lightweight construction. Although his background was in Formula One, Southgate was working at Ford when this revolution occurred, and he was tasked with designing something to counter the likes of the Renault – the RS200.
‘Formula One is straightforward compared to rally car design!’ Southgate laughs. ‘A rally car has to perform on snow, sand, tarmac, gravel – sometimes all on the same stage, so you need something that’s both grippy and lightweight. Ford was very conservative, had just been using lighter, more powerful road cars, and had arrived at the Escort RS1700T, with rear-wheel drive and tubular spaceframes front and rear. With the RS200, we started with the mid-section of a three-door Sierra, so we could reuse things like windscreen glass – 117 parts were reused in total – and the front and rear was redesigned by Filippo Sapino at Ghia for better aerodynamics. Tested in a wind tunnel, it generated positive downforce – most road cars generate lift and downforce measures merely limit it.’
Ford almost dismissed the use of lightweight composites. ‘The management couldn’t comprehend that an aluminium-grp honeycomb structure could survive a rally,’ explains Southgate. ‘I had to build demonstration sections to squash in front of them, and they couldn’t believe how vastly superior they were to steel. Even then they ended up compromising by bonding a sheet of steel to the underside, but even then we could have used Kevlar, like TVR did with the 420 SEAC.
‘In motor sport requiring a fast standing start – not Group C, but certainly F1 and rallying – you need grip off the line, minimising wheelspin. That’s where the wide tyres come in, but the
‘Weight distribution that aids acceleration can actually hinder cornering’
advantage of grip runs out soon. Once you’ve cleared the threat of wheelspin, weight distribution becomes more important. You need weight to be concentrated over the driven rear wheels. The Porsche 911 is superior in this respect, probably the closest road car in terms of weight distribution to an F1 car. Although you can also shift weight rearward by ramping the differential.
‘The problem is, weight distribution that aids acceleration can hinder cornering – if you’re oversteering, you’ve failed. On the BRM P180 I experimented with 30/70 front/rear weight distribution, moving the water radiators to the rear; previously it had been 35/65. It won just one race, a fluke, but while it was OK in a straight line, it was difficult to get round corners because the nose was too light. Realistically, 32/68 is as much as you’ll get away with, but on a road car the ideal – as exemplified by the TVR – is 50/50 for controllability.’
Nearly all the cars in our test sport spoilers, and flush-glazing on elements like light clusters and windscreens, but how effective is this? ‘Although low drag coefficients only really show at much higher speeds than 60mph, aerodynamics are still important to low-speed acceleration,’ says Southgate. ‘When we tested the Ford C100 Group C car at Paul Ricard, it was spinning its wheels coming out of a first- or second-gear 40mph hairpin. A change in size of the vertical rear Gurney flap from just a quarter of an inch to half an inch stopped the wheelspin.
‘This sort of thing is largely psychological on a road car – but on track, drivers are acutely aware of aerodynamics. It’s like a switch, they can feel it coming on and off and calculate the numbers – if you can generate 200lb more downforce through a corner by going 15mph faster, you’ll do it. Then you’ll search for 500lb – if you’re brave enough. But then the next element to give up will be the tyres – hence why they’re developed together.’
Tyre technology is in some ways more crucial in the USA, where IMSA cars like the Corvette GTO competed on high-speed oval tracks. ‘At Daytona, when you get to the banking of the track, the tyres suddenly take on a lot of extra load. You need to anticipate this, working with tyre engineers to avoid sidewall squash, and cars set up for American circuits need slightly higher ride heights to stop them bottoming out, and you’ll need far more downforce than Le Mans with its 200mph straights.
‘And of course, the most crucial motivating factor of all in motor sport engineering is beating Porsche.’
The Aston V8 Vantage was a supercar of the old school. Firepower derived from downdraught Webers, aerodynamic improvements made by blanking off grilles and scoops. Aston flirted with the idea of mid-engined supercars – 1980’s Bulldog was reminiscent of the Maserati Bora, but it remained a concept. Aston contested Group C, but no roadgoing AMR racers followed. Then Aston boss Victor Gauntlett happened upon a sleek Zagato concept, the Zeta 6, at Geneva in 1983. It used light weight, truncated proportions and smooth aerodynamics to turn Alfa’s GTV6 into a serious performer. A plan was hatched to do the same with the V8 Vantage, echoing the DB4GT Zagato. Fifty orders were taken on the emergence of a stylist’s sketch. Looking at this Aston Martin V8 Vantage Zagato, I can see why some of those creditors were initially disappointed. The angular, bumperless nose is more Audi Sport Quattro than pretty DB4, and that ski-ramp bonnet-bulge looks like a hot-rodder’s backyard bodge. But look closer and there is elegance – the Lagondareferencing tail and tiny bumperettes, as well as evidence of performance engineering in the form of meticulous flush-glazing, with elements like headlamp covers, windscreen edges and door mirrors flowing seamlessly. Aston’s standard Vantage was stuck in a world of chrome windscreen trim and whistling rain-guttering. Climb aboard and you’re greeted with a remarkable meeting of Aston and Zagato values. The angular instrument cluster and diagonal motif in the door cards is typical of the bold, striking Italian supercar interior design of the era. But the polished timber, dazzling chrome and pungent leather that’s more saddlery than couturier reeks of a British aesthetic of stud farms and Jacobean drawing-rooms. Crucially, it’s supremely comfortable and the ergonomic driving position is reminiscent of the TVR’S.
The V8 soundtrack is familiar yet amplified via a freer-flowing exhaust system as well as the lack of roof in this Zagato Volante – one of just eight Vantage examples built. It lunges forward with intoxicating fury, a hard-edged crackle thrashing from the tailpipes. I’m still relaxing in my armchair – it hasn’t forgotten how to be a proper Aston V8 – but the car itself is behaving like a TVR.
Blackpudlian comparisons surprisingly continue into the corners. The use of lighter-gauge aluminium, ditching the rear seats and paring back the overhangs liberates the previouslyhefty Vantage of 277mm and 168kg, and concentrates its weight between the axles. In tight bends, it pivots with a faithfulness, predictability and immediacy alien to any Aston since the DB4GT, with only the shuffling of the de Dion-suspended rear a reminder of the Dbs-derived chassis’ age. It’s 30mm slimmer than a V8 saloon too, and feels easy to place in corners. It doesn’t take long behind the wheel to feel confident enough to take liberties in corners in a manner you wouldn’t dream of doing with the TVR.
It’s geared for spectacular performance – 0-60 in 4.8 seconds and on to 185mph – but this doesn’t help on B-roads. The colossal 395lb ft lulls you into thinking you can carry complexes of tight bends in third gear, but it judders in protest as the revs sink
‘It hasn’t forgotten how to be a proper Aston V8 – but the car itself is behaving like a TVR’
towards 1000rpm. Shift down and second is too peaky when playing at 30-60mph. It’s difficult to rein in at the end of straights too – like the TVR – but unlike a Ghibli or Daytona, squirms alarmingly under hard braking.
Still, I can’t help but think that the Zagato marked the moment of Aston’s true post-oil-crisis renaissance. Vantages and Lagondas kept the flame alive, but the Zagato proved it was possible to create a compact, sporty Aston that retained its trademark luxury. It’s the ethos that sired the 1994 DB7 and 2003 AMV8, brought the marque back to GT racing, and invigorates Aston’s spirit today.
Zagatos have never been cheap, so they haven’t suffered shoestring maintenance like some V8s and Virages. However, years spent locked up in speculators’ collections can generate astronomical recomissioning bills if the engine or suspension needs rebuilding, but you’ll be spending a six-figure sum to enter the Aston Zagato club at any viable level anyway. Given the lower state of tune of the standard, blanked-grille Volante, it doesn’t command a premium over a Vantage coupé, but a Vantage Volante like this costs in excess of two mint-condition hardtop Zagatos.
The FIA’S Group B regulations were always meant to form a racing series as well as a rally class. Because of the cost of building homologation runs, it only resulted in a few BMW M1s and Porsches at Le Mans. However, in IMSA’S parallel American jurisdiction, which didn’t need homologation specials, the nearidentical GTO class ran wild with silhouettebodied sports cars scrapping behind Gtx-class Group C doppelgangers. The US tuning industry boomed for the first time since the Sixties. Chevrolet embraced the opportunities presented by IMSA. Its Corvette was banned from productionclass SCCA club-racing in 1987 for exerting TVR 420 Seac-like dominance. Behind the scenes, parent company General Motors had swiped Lotus from beneath expected buyer Toyota’s nose following its 1986 stock-market flotation. A Corvette GTO won its class at the 1988 Sebring 12 Hours, and in October a Gto-inspired road car was unveiled to the press – the Chevrolet Corvette ZR-1. Lotus’ Tony Rudd had actually been working on the ZR-1 since 1986. The antiquated pushrods of the 5.7-litre small-block V8 went in favour of Formula One-derived quad-overhead camshafts. Lotus recalibrated the springing and damping rates. A six-speed manual was the only gearbox available. Seen ‘in the glassfibre’ the Corvette ZR-1 has remarkable, unanticipated presence. The widened bodywork, flaring out to contain massive 315/35 ZR17 tyres at the rear, and the way the smoked lenses of the revised flush-glazed light clusters seem to blend seamlessly into this one’s black bodywork give it the look of a spaceframed, one-piece silhouette-bodied racer. Today, it’s the only thing that can really complicate ZR-1 ownership – while it’s just as reliable as the mass-produced C4 and shares much of its componentry, ZR-1 body panels aren’t available off the shelf like most C4 bits, so any damaged ones ideally need repairing rather than replacing. Star-cracks can help you negotiate a bargain.
Open the door and you lower yourself into a high-silled cockpit that’s part racing tub, part F-14 Tomcat. Turn the ignition key and the dashboard flashes into bright, digital life like an Eighties arcade game, although the engine just gives off a subdued purr.
Get it underway and, remarkably, it feels quite compact. The view down the bonnet is more curvaceous and Stingray-like than it appears from the outside, and the sharp peaks of the wings make it easy to place on twisty roads. It handles them well too – the power steering is very light and lacking in fine feedback, but it’s as immediate and intuitive in its responses as a Lotus.
For a 385bhp V8 the LT5 is remarkably docile and quiet at low speeds. Accelerate hard though, and it’s a different story. The quad-cam engine gives off a fiery scream – high-pitched, not brittle like an Italian V12, but not the traditional loose and bassy bellow of a typical American V8. The road and the yellow digits flashing up in the middle of the instrument cluster become a frenzied blur. Get it on a motorway and 100mph is absurdly, effortlessly easy. So’s 150. Then my right hand rests on the chunky gearlever and I realise I’m only in the fourth of its six intergalactically long
‘0-60 in 4.2sec makes it faster than an Aston Martin that was four times its price when new – and ten times its price now’
ratios. It doesn’t run out of heave until 186mph, having cleared the 0-60 dash in 4.2 seconds. That makes it faster than an Aston that was four times its price when new and ten times its price now. When you think about its racing pedigree, this performance surely warrants comparison with the likes of the 959 and 288GTO.
And yet you can buy a mint Corvette ZR-1 for less than £20k, provided you can find one. Buying privately in the UK or Europe is your best bet – they’re highly-prized in the US and shipping duty makes them poorer value than finding an original import, and dealers will charge £20k or more for mint low-mileage examples.
You’re not getting a sophisticated engine carried by a chassis that can’t quite cope – the front-mid configuration gives it the balance of a Lotus Excel, with body control and powerful braking to match. Only the hollow-feeling plasticky dashboard finish undermines it. But this car is all about IMSA Gto-style performance and handling for the road, and it’s also capable of taking on some of the best European supercars of its era.
It’s odd that the Porsche 911 has become so inextricably linked with Eighties culture. True, it became an unimaginative visual-shorthand status symbol whenever a film producer wanted to pair a showy arriviste with wheels to match, but Porsche seemed indifferent to its success. Production-class racing efforts were focused on the 944, international recognition was won with the 962, and the Group B rally 959 served as a technological showcase. It might have received a displacement increase here, a new gearbox there, but the 911 and its Turbo sibling remained torsion-bar-suspended, Seventies-rooted anachronisms, no matter how popular they were in the showroom. However, during this time a new 911 was designed. Codenamed 964, it kept the rear-engined, air-cooled principles, but applied the smoother aerodynamic profiling, coil-sprung Macphersonstrut suspension, anti-lock braking, power steering and fourwheel drive of the 959. With a more capable chassis than its predecessors, it would be could handle much greater performance. A new 250bhp 3.6-litre flat-six engine was developed, and upon its eventual release in 1989, the new normally-aspirated 964 Carrera 2 produced the same performance figures as the old 930 Turbo. The old 3.3-litre unit, its harsh characteristics smoothed over with modern anti-lag measures, was carried over from the 930 to create a half-hearted range-topper. But behind the scenes the seen here was being developed – a 911 with 959 performance. Because of the effects of the early-nineties recession on Porsche’s sales, development of its 360bhp ‘M64’ engine had been repeatedly put on the backburner. In the end, it was available for just 12 months – mid-1993 to mid-1994. With just 1437 built, it’s one of the rarer and more sought-after 911 variants today and this is reflected in its pricing - although the Porsche market has softened lately, Turbo 3.6s having peaked just beyond £200k a few years ago, the £180k you’ll pay now for a rust-free low-miler is still four times what they were worth ten years ago.
It doesn’t take long behind the wheel of the Turbo 3.6 to realise how far removed it is from the previous-generation 911. The intimate, hyperactively talkative steering is gone, washed away by 225/40 ZR18 Pirellis up front and a thick-rimmed wheel. However, in place of the old 911’s jiggly nervousness, there’s confidenceinspiring solidity, endless grip and a sense of imperviousness. A stable launch platform, set for a relentless assault on the horizon.
Take your first foray into the 3500rpm-plus boost zone and it’s clear that this is no longer merely an overpowered 911 kicked into supercar contention by its turbocharger, but comprehensively devised to operate on another plane altogether, with Ferrari 512TRS and Lamborghini Diablos in its sights. It’s conceived with the same sense of flamboyant irrationality as well – it would have made more financial sense for Porsche to have abandoned this car to concentrate on the new 993 instead, but it persevered with its development for three years simply to make a point.
Problem is, it suffers from the same issues as the Italians at lower speeds. Kept off-boost by short-shifting, the old 930 could still be treated like a sports car on tangled roads that’d leave a
‘There’s confidence-inspiring solidity, endless grip and a sense of imperviousness’
Testarossa flailing. The 964, its wheels widened in the name of grip, is too broad to feel wieldy on B-roads. But it’s incredibly urgent and you need to stay alert – the rear end will still try to overtake the front if you take a tight corner too hard.
Stick to supercar behaviour though, and the Turbo 3.6 rewards in a way its Italian rivals don’t. It’s slick, smooth, easy to see out of, even economical compared to a V12. There’s a decent amount of luggage space too, so you can imagine making a long trip, taking pleasure in rapidly covering ground. It’s a supercar for grown-ups.
It doesn’t howl with fury like a TVR or an Aston. It gathers speed in an understated, progressive way, the whistle of the turbocharger signalling the subtle but massive accumulation of torque. The ABS allows confidence not present in its predecessors when progressively slowing from such massive speeds too.
It didn’t take long for Porsche to eclipse the 964 Turbo 3.6 with a plethora of 993 variants in a more economically stable era – but they existed in the shadow cast by the Mclaren F1. The 964 Turbo 3.6, however briefly, once shone brighter than all its rivals, and guided the concept of the practical supercar into a new era.
It almost seems unfair to try and compare these cars. They were built for such different purposes and environments, from hurtling off the mark at the raise of a marshal’s hand and dancing through hairpins against the clock in the case of the Renault, to vying deliberately for world’s fastest supercar honours against all economic odds with the Porsche. However, there are three cars here in which their sub-five-second acceleration abilities – and the lengths their manufacturers went to in order to achieve it – speak of far greater significance. Our three front-engined V8 bruisers from Blackpool, Newport Pagnell and Bowling Green, Kentucky. And two of them are absolute bargains. Aston Martin’s performance and prestige was never in doubt prior to the release of the Vantage Zagato, but it took the Zagato to prove it could also challenge its Italian competitors in the driver’s-car stakes. In retrospect the Virage which replaced the old V8 in 1989 was a brief and distracting misfire – the popularity of more compact, concentrated Astons from the Nineties onwards ultimately proved the success of the Zagato’s formula. The Astons which followed it are better value for money, but the marque has never quite been the same since the Zagato first emerged.
The TVR 420 SEAC shocks with its sense of seriousness. I can’t help but think that had it been homologated as a Group B racer and banned from Le Mans rather than Croft it would have garnered more respect through its infamy and be better known. As it its, it’s a forgotten gem, waiting to be discovered by supercar drivers drawn from outside TVR’S traditional ownership pool, and they’d be spending a fraction of their usual budget too.
However, there is one car here which doesn’t just succeed, but excels on every level – the ZR-1. Perhaps if it wore a Lotus badge on its nose, people would have paid it more attention outside of its homeland. But the raw facts remain – the cheapest car here is also the fastest, best-handling and most reliable. Added to that, it is as impervious to the rigours of regular use as a Volvo estate, has motor sport pedigree as formidable as any Porsche, outlandish styling inside and out, and performance on a par with a Ferrari 288 GTO. Go out and buy one now before anyone else notices.