‘It’s time to blow the lid: look beyond the obvious, and there are classic bargains to be had’
It’s time for a rethink, as we pick the best-buy alternatives to expensive icons and put them to the test
Standing in the shadows of greatness is a tough old gig. To the poster boy cars go the glitz, glory and girls; they’re used to flashbulbs popping, adorning magazine covers aplenty and screeds of sycophantic words written about them.
But spare a thought for the nearly men. The cars sitting a mere echelon below their illustrious relatives; be it those that followed a true groundbreaker or media darling, others usurped by a higher specification model, or cars affected by that most fickle of mistresses – fashion.
All sit patiently, watching the party go on around them while coyly offering their own wares. Well, no more. It’s time to blow the lid on sibling inequality, because for those capable of looking beyond the obvious, there are classic motoring bargains to be had.
Not only did the VW Golf MKII GTI have to follow an inordinately successful older sibling, the MKI GTI was so good it coined the name for an entire genre. Yes, there had been warm hatchbacks before, but this was the hot hatch – the car that married unbridled driving pleasure to the day-to-day family wagon. No pressure, then…
If we’re honest, VW’S first attempt to replace it was a touch underwhelming. Despite being much improved in terms of refinement and civility (both relative anathema to enthusiasts), the new eight-valve MKII GTI was both 126kg heavier and 0.1sec slower in the all-important 0-60mph sprint – although top speed was higher. Luckily, as competitors upped their collective games, Wolfsburg’s engineers were on the case – cue the 16-valve version. Released in Great Britain in September 1986, in an instant this 139bhp newcomer redressed the performance balance.
Today surrounded by a wealth of Italianate flashiness, M-stripes and pure sports cars, Ray Partner’s lovely survivor looks reserved by comparison. However, even in period, while rivals screamed their performance credentials via decals, go-faster stripes and other addenda, VW GTIS followed an entirely different visual path.
It’s lost a touch of the touch of the Mki’s crisp, sharply drawn edges and looks like it’s eaten a few more pies than its older brother, but its conservative Q-car lines are still mightily pleasing. Best of all are those discreet markers – small, red 16v badges, front and rear – warning other asphalt interlopers to beware.
It’s equally circumspect inside; you get well-bolstered striped material seats, that iconic golf-ball gear-knob and a chunky sports steering wheel, but other than that it’s testament to the understated, game-changing Teutonic cabin designs of the era.
Spark up the engine and where you could have expected a lack of character, it instead delivers it by the bucket-load; the 139bhp 1.8-litre dohc engine is a punchy, gutsy little blighter that thrives on revs, coming alive at 4000rpm and pulling happily to the 6800rpm soft limiter. It’s married to a close-ratio five-speed gearbox and the brakes – now discs all round – offer a level of assurance that big brother’s front disc/rear drum setup could never deliver.
It’s urgent-sounding but never to the detriment of cabin civility, even at full pelt. Slow matters down though, and it
‘The 139bhp 1.8-litre dohc engine is a punchy, gutsy little blighter that thrives on revs’
becomes decorous; in period it handled the school run, trips to the supermarket and outings to a Little Chef at the weekend with aplomb. It still will if you can find an alternative roadside café.
Just like the original, it was to B-roads that MKII GTI owners were, and still are, inevitably drawn. Here occurs metamorphosis – it’s a true hard-charger. The steering is light and communicative while the Macpherson strut/coil spring suspension set-up remains supremely neutral through even the sharpest of corners, allowing you to devour one after another with expert ease.
Adlai Phillip of Club GTI says, ‘The MKI and MKII Golf GTI are very different beasts. The European 1.8-litre MKII 16v was when VW got everything right. While light, the MKI has a pretty flexible chassis and rolls; the MKII chassis benefits from an engine, gearbox and steering rack mounted to subframes and then bolted into the engine bay.’
While good MKI GTIS with average miles change hands for £7000£12,000 or more, a MKII 16v in similar condition will be £3500 to £9000. An equivalent MKII GTI 8v costs £2500 to £5500.
Rust is the biggest issue; check the sills, floors, rear suspension turrets and jacking points. Make sure the chassis number under the rain tray that sits against the bulkhead is legit and matches the boot sticker (if still present). You should also be mindful of resprayed cars; they might be hiding rust or structural crash damage, around the front chassis legs for example. Mechanically they’re pretty robust.
There’s no doubt that the MKII GTI 16v took the breed to new performance and safety heights; in terms of both it still remains comprehensively superior. Does it have the same visual appeal? Well, that’s down to individual taste.
The M1 of 1978 might have been the first road car from Munich-based BMW’S Motorsport division, founded in 1972, but this mid-engined supercar imparted zero influence on subsequent offspring. Rather, both full-bore M-cars and those endowed with sticky-backed plastic badges have taken the lead from the first democratised offering, the
BMW M535i E12 saloon of 1980. Our car is a second-generation E28 example, which took the same basic recipe and improved upon it. At launch, this £19,495, high-performance variant was a fully loaded and serious bit of rangecrowning kit, but just like the Porsche Carrera 2 here today, it too would later be unseated by a more formidable successor – in its case, the M5. In the ultimate show of automotive karma, that car’s party trick was, of course, the integration of the 278bhp 24-valve M88 dohc straight-six from the M1.
BMW actually watered down the visual belligerence for the M5, which means that this M535i is arguably the more striking. It harks from a period that remains a highpoint of modern-classic BMW design. The sculpted shark-nose brandishing quad headlights is moderately less brooding than the E12’s, which lends it a marginally more upright demeanour. However, it’s the M-tech bodykit’s deep front and rear spoilers that give it an aggressive disposition, especially when paired with optional 2002-esque Motorsport decals.
There’s no damping down of that inside either, where the considerable lateral grip of the M-tech Recaro sports seat and thick leather-rimmed steering wheel hint at what’s to come – one big brutal torque-fest. On the hoof the 3.5-litre sohc straight-six M30 engine sparkles; it has the same 218bhp and 224lb ft torque as the non-m E28 535i, but it’s still enough to see 0-60mph flash past in just 6.9 seconds – not too shabby considering the 1450kg kerb weight. The close-ratio gearbox is a joy to use and thanks to a flat torque curve, the engine’s flexibility is its biggest asset and that allows for epic overtaking manoeuvres. Braking abilities by comparison feel behind the curve, but a little pre-planning and expectation-altering compensates.
It still feels like a big car from behind the wheel – that’s the price you pay for the lugging abilities for four real adults and their respective luggage – but away from the Autobahn it can still more than hold its own. Turn-in is sharp, the steering follows your inputs faithfully even at considerable speed, and the car will hold a surprisingly tight racing line with just a little body roll. It was, and remains, an excellent choice for a family man or woman still harbouring a touch of inner hooligan.
‘From a drivetrain point of view the M535i and M5 are near identical; the layout and construction are the same, the wishbones and steering arms are the same – all the important things,’ explains Munich Legends’ Stuart Draper. ‘What you’re not getting is an M88 24-valve engine, which is an entirely different beast to a 12-valve Motronic M30 engine. The M5 five-speed overdrive gearbox is pretty indestructible as well, and you don’t get the same suspension.’
‘To run and maintain they’re near identical; some parts such as brakes and wheel bearings are now becoming quite expensive.
Although an M535i will be 50 per cent cheaper to buy than an equivalent M5, I wouldn’t say it’s 50 per cent of the car; if you get a good spec one with manual gearbox, leather, fog lamps and sunroof then there isn’t a huge amount to choose between them.’
M535i prices range from £10k-£20k while similar M5s will cost £30k-£50k, with exceptional cars even more. The single biggest factor to consider when buying any E28 is body structure. Finding the best example you can afford is crucial, because it’s economically nonsensical to try to put a bad bodyshell right. ‘It can be terrifying. Now we’re seeing cars that have been patched up, with previous repairs and restorations failing. You can start with an expectation of 50 hours, and easily spend 150 hours. If there’s serious water ingress on a car with a sunroof that can be pretty catastrophic.’
In period the M5 turned E28 performance up a considerable notch. From a drivability point of view the M535i is definitely a bit more wayward with more body roll, less mechanical grip and less power. However to look at them today, and to drive and enjoy them on our B-roads, the truth is that in real-world terms there really isn’t really huge gulf between them.
‘An M535i will be 50% cheaper to buy than an equivalent M5, but it’s not 50% of the car...’
We have to thank those lovely people at Alfa Romeo and the Italian market’s punitive taxation of larger engines – not content with giving us one of the most beautiful coupés ever built in 1963’s Giulia GT, three years later it conspired to go one step further and opened the model up to an even wider audience with it’s junior model, called the, eh, Alfa Romeo GT Junior.
The 1300 was a hard-working little fizz-bomb of a car but, with the 2000GTV replacing the range-topping 1750GTV in ’72, it was time to give baby more bad. Cue the return of the famed 1600 engine – GTA racer connotations and all – ladies and gents, the Alfa Romeo 1600 GT Junior.
Mike’s car – admirably attending today with an hour’s notice after our original representative pulled out – has had some cosmetic deletions in the form of its bumpers, and additions such as decals, spotlights, sump guard and later wheels, but doesn’t it wear the look well? Bertone, via the hand of Giugiaro, penned an absolute belter and here today its nose-up/pert bum-down stance sings in white. Its single-headlight front end is, to my eye, more pleasing than the fussier twin arrangement of its big GTV brothers.
Of course, all that visual sensuality would be rendered nought after a while if it weren’t backed up by driving ability – you can forgive a pretty face a lot, but you still need conversation. No such worries, as anyone who’s sampled a Giulia will tell you, because the Junior takes a discussion and turns it into the most intimate of conversations.
Unlike the torquey, bigger-engined variants, you really need to work the 110bhp twin-carburettor, double overhead cam engine hard to fully extract its performance – but Italian engines are simply born to rev and it’s a motor full of character, so that’s no great hardship. It’s mated to a five-speed gearbox with perfectly set ratios, so working up and down them is a pleasure.
Whizz through a bend at speed and it’s a supple, grippy joyous experience. Get up a bigger head of steam into some fast left-right flicks and the entertainment level rises, but you’ll have to go some to upset the Junior’s inherent balance. Negotiate them successfully, and all that’s left to do is drop a cog, punch the top-hinged throttle and enjoy the exhaust’s honed rasp.
The cabin is a touch more basic than big brother’s, with no centre console and fuel and temperature gauges tacked on underneath, but you get an identical legs/arms outstretched driving position and the same excellent all-round visibility. You also get a surprising level of practicality, so just like the Golf, BMW and Aston, it does lend itself to being a true family classic.
Says Stuart Taylor, 105/115 model Registrar at the Alfa Romeo Owners’ Club, ‘For many, of all the Bertone coupés, the 1750GTV is the best compromise with a sweeter engine that gives little away in performance to the larger-capacity 2000 GTV and has arguably the most desirable interior. The smaller-engined Sprints and GT Juniors (both 1300 and 1600) share the same design and engineering quality, just don’t expect quite as much performance.’
‘You need to work the twincarb, dohc engine hard to fully extract its performance’
Prices are reflective of model desirability, so Juniors can be had for significantly less – especially towards the top of the market. ‘A good 1300/1600GT Junior will cost between £15k-£20k, whereas for a 1750/2000GTV it’ll be £25k-£30k. Concours examples extend to £30k-£35k for the best Juniors and £45k-£60k for equivalent GTVS.’
Even though all have been out of production for forty-five years, Stuart says, ‘Giulia Coupés are, ironically, easier to maintain now than they were back in 1964 thanks to a large number of longestablished and knowledgeable specialists.’
Whether you own a 1300 GT Junior or a 2000 GT Veloce, there’s little or no difference in maintenance costs. Mechanical parts are easily obtainable and even repair panels can be sourced without too much of a problem. As ever, body condition is the top consideration when buying any model – so check everywhere for corrosion.
Its GTV big brothers rightly take the plaudits and always will, but with any Junior GT variant you get an almost identical package. Yes, the power may be dialled down somewhat, but the reality is that a Giulia is about so much more than outright oomph. The fact that you have to work a Junior harder is actually a bonus.
Aesthetically, 911 fans can pick their favourite decade and run with it – you get the same iconic lines, just adapted for the times. The large frontbumper of the 964 Porsche 911 lends it a touch of the Bubba Gump’s, but its slim hips and that low-slung rear end are well resolved and overall it’s a nice meeting point of 911 old and the new.
The 964 C2 model (and its 4wd sibling, identical in every way save for the all-wheeldrive system) resurrected the Carrera moniker while bringing modern driving apparatus such as coil springs, power steering and ABS to the party. However, it was outdone by 1991’s super sport variant, the stripped-out Carrera RS, which ditched the PAS and around 130kg in weight while adding 10bhp, stiffer re-worked suspension and 17in wheels. The new bad boy reset the template for all future limited edition, 911 road racer models.
The idea of piloting a raw-edged, hard-riding homologation special is all well and good but the reality, certainly on UK roads, can be harder to live with. So where does that leave the softer Carrera 2 today? Well, unlike the RS, the cabin benefits from sound insulation and electronic niceties. You sit low in a sea of black, well -bolstered by the sports seats – something I’ll shortly be glad of.
That rear-mounted 247bhp flat-six engine is a docile unit, but plantarflex your right ankle and it’s instantly provoked into hardedged action. It pulls cleanly from low down with torque delivered in one smooth, seamless flow. As the scenery starts to flash past, the honed rasp of that air-cooled six sings to you north of 5000rpm like a sultry Swabian songstress. The Abs-endowed anchors are powerful and easily up to scrubbing off speed when needed.
This example has a Tiptronic gearbox. Period road testers either loved it for its complexity or hated it for the same thing; it’s around a second slower from 0-60mph than a manual, and even in manual mode it has a tendency to have final say on when shifts take place. That tempers how you drive it – eigth-tenths to a manual’s ninetenths. If anything, though, it adds to this car’s everyday usability.
That gearbox was programmed to avoid unwanted mid-corner shifts and, unlike earlier generations, the 964’s redesigned suspension, complete with self-correcting rear-axle, is far more forgiving. Despite being power-assisted, the steering remains sharp and while it doesn’t effervesce with feedback like the RS, it’s still beautifully communicative. Here, in the tight and twisties, the 911’s character is at its zenith; its inherent balance sees short, sharp changes of direction dispatched joyously. It’s the reason why once many have sampled a 911, they simply never stray.
The owner of this particular car, Mark Byrne, is also Porsche Club Great Britain 964 Register secretary. ‘Out the box you will feel like you’re driving a lounge in a Carrera 2 compared to an RS. The latter is hardcore, loud, harsh and razor-sharp. However, a C2 with a few modifications – such as suspension, tuning and a diet – will give you a car that could stick with an RS in the real world, but with comforts like soundproofing and PAS, if you so wish.
‘C2s are amazing value when compared to the RS, and you’ll never have to worry that you have a limited-numbers car to protect. They
start at anything from £28k for an automatic Convertible in need of work, up to £70k for a low-mileage manual Coupé. Weigh that up against £130k for a leggy left-hand drive RS, up to £230k for a very nice usable right-hand-drive car and even more for the very best. Running costs will be similar – the same to service, the same parts in the main; although there’s less to go wrong on the RS so it may well be cheaper to maintain. That’ll help justify the extra cost for one!’
All 964s are robust and reliable cars. Two key things to check for are rust – look behind sill covers and around edges like wings and front screen. Anything deeper, which is common, may warrant a full body restoration; oil leaks, they’re old cars and are known for leaking – in the Club it’s rare to find one that isn’t leaking, but even if it’s pouring out it could be a simple seal or an engine rebuild, so it’s definintely worth paying for a professional inspection.’
The limited-edition Carrera RS models may have the kudos, desirability and resultant values, but the Carrera 2 is infinitely more attainable, easily more live-with-able on a daily basis and has performance that’s arguably only a matter of degrees removed from its illustrious, competition-bred stablemate.
Performance is arguably only a matter of degrees removed from its illustrious stablemate’
The Bertone-penned straight edges of the 308 GT4 proved to be a bit of a tricky sell for Ferrari. Enter Leonardo Fioravanti at Pininfarina, whose take on things – looking like a Coca-cola bottle had been slipped under the skin of a shorter version of its four-seater sibling – was altogether more pleasing. Its glassfibre body… Whoa, hang on there – time out! Did you just say…?
I did, and Ferrari did. Utilising a substance more at home in Blackpool, Hethel or Kentucky, the boys ’n’ girls at Maranello constructed the first 712 examples from it before production shifted to good old-fashioned steel in 1977. In person you’d be hard pressed to tell the difference, until you gave the bodywork a ‘donk’ test with your knuckle. Steel bodied cars are a touch crisper in appearance because the panels on
Vetroresina cars don’t tend to fit as well, but with either you get the same slinky outline. Muscularly flared wheelarches and scalloped air intake ducts offer latent aggression; the sugar-scoop buttresses deftly nod back to the Dino; and it’s all married to that pop-up headlight-endowed sloping front end and quad-taillight rear. It’s a car you’ll never tire of admiring.
Slip into the cabin and the low-slung seating position, with knees higher than your hips, is pure Italian sports racer. It’s nicely finished in here. The contrasting brown and black leather and chrome switchgear lends it a quality feel, with the small, focused instrument binnacle taking centre stage. The wheel-well marginally intrudes, with pedals slightly offset, but the three-spoke leather steering wheel and tall gear lever are where you want them to be.
On the move the lever is a tactile joy as you clunk-clack it through the gears with a positive hand. Throttle down and the quad-cam 3.0-litre V8’s hard-edged exhaust note comes as a welcome surprise; unlike other switches to fuel injection that had an emasculating effect on sound quality – Aston Martin V8, stand accused – that’s not the case here. No, it doesn’t sing in your ear as mellifluously as a carburetted car, but it’s still satisfying.
But there’s no getting away from the fact that the integration of Bosch K-jetronic fuel injection impacted on power and torque. The drop from 240bhp to 205bhp and 195lb ft to 181lb ft means that performance takes a hit – the go not quite matching the noise – but it’s not a dealbreaker and it feels potent enough.
Get it out on the type of road on which you can explore its handling and suddenly all is forgiven. With the 308, Maranello’s engineers took the Dino’s deft-footed essence and improved upon it. The sophisticated all-independent suspension means it’s a silky handling machine through the bends; dry road traction is superb, with oodles of steering feedback, and you get the feeling it would be marginally less nervous in the wet than a Lamborghini Jalpa. Brakes too are confidence inspiring, which means that overall this junior Ferrari offers a strong package.
‘You’ll pay less than half for a fuel-injected car compared with a glassfibre example,’ explains Paul de Turris of Surrey-based Italian classic car specialist DTR European Sports Cars. ‘The asking price for Ian’s car, which we currently have for sale, is £57,500, but a
comparable Vetroresina will be £130,000. However, carburettor cars – even the later steel ones – are more desirable. The Bosch fuel injection system was added to reduce emissions for the US market and the power drop dulled the driving experience. That said, a modern hot Golf would burn off all 308s, so you don’t buy one to thrash. The fuel-injected examples are still nippy cars.’
The other consideration is rust. There’s still plenty of steel on a glassfibre car (sills, bulkhead, door bottoms, and the underlying support frame for the panels) and they will rust from the inside out, whereas it’ll be more evident earlier on the wheelarches and lower sections of a steel car. US cars are also in general more likely to remain rust-free. One benefit to taking the fuel-injected route is that the system is less likely to give problems as an occasional-use car which, let’s face it, most 308s will be.
The 308 model range demonstrates just how fickle fashion can be; 20 years ago dealers struggled to give away Vetroresina models – after all, who wanted a glassfibre Ferrari? Today of course, that stance has shifted 180 degrees, its first-mover status and relative rarity making it the pinnacle of the breed.
‘You’ll pay less than half for a fuel-injected 308 compared with a glassfibre example’
Fire up the Jaguar E-type’s legendary XK engine, blip the throttle and as the chassis writhes underneath my backside I’m reminded of a B-52 lyric, ‘The whole shack shimmies’. Except this ain’t no shack, it’s a glorious two-owner, low-mileage S2. The type of car with a certain ‘Je ne sais quoi’ – never been apart, when translated to Coventry-speak – that feels just as it must have when it originally left Browns Lane.
I’ll forgive it the absurdly high pedal that has me doing a highland fling each time I let the clutch fully out, as well as the fact that it’s not an S1. Aha, therein lies the rub. Fashion. Fickle. And mistress – feel free to re-arrange and add some connectives as you see fit. The S2 suffers from the same fate as the fuel-injected 308. Damned in the late Eighties for not being the collectors’ must-have S3, and once again in the present day by its progenitor.
And yet all eyes are on the E-type as I pootle along at low speed; the car Enzo Ferrari may or may not have called the most beautiful in the world with sincerity causes the same reaction at distance, irrespective of Series. It’s only the aficionados that’ll spot the the bigger front and rear light clusters now mounted south of its chrome bumpers thanks to Federal impact laws, and the loss of those elegant faired-in headlights. For most though, it remains an utterly timeless, elegant and evocative shape.
The cabin is more welcoming of a long-limbed individual like me – certainly compared to an early flat-floor S1 – if a touch less overt in chrome Sixties sensuality, but we’re talking thin margins here. Unlike the sea change from MKI to MKII Golf GTI, the biggest E-type changes had already occurred in 1964 when the 3.8-litre S1 engine was bored out to 4.2-litres and the slow-witted Moss gearbox replaced by an all-synchromesh Jaguar unit.
It shifts without a hint of recalcitrance, allowing you to focus on the epic powerplant lurking beneath that epic, ludicrously bulbous bonnet hump. Nail the loud pedal and the clue is in the description; editor Bell called it a brassy blare in our January issue, and the triple-carburettor-fed straight six soars to a sonorous crescendo in each ratio. It’s marginally less frenzied in its delivery than a 3.8-litre unit and would be equally at home on the Mulsanne Straight, or here today on my makeshift counterpart in leafy Surrey.
Don’t let my power unit soliloquy lull you into thinking the E-type is a one-trick big cat though. It’s possessive of a sinuous manoeuvrability; it’ll do the GT duties with aplomb, but that’s backed up by serious sports car credentials. Find a challenging B-road and it’ll devour at will.
Damon Milnes of Cheshire-based E-type specialist Trevor Farrington says, ‘Foregoing the ultra-desirable flat-floor S1, the current E-type pecking order is S1 4.2, S1 3.8 and then S2, with fixed-head coupés proving particularly popular, followed by the Series 3. However, the S2 E-type is no lesser car than the S1 in any department. It benefits from the same engine overbore to 4.2-litres and all-synchromesh Jaguar gearbox both introduced on late S1 models, and, if anything, stronger brakes – Girling three-piston on the front and two-piston at the rear – plus better cooling capacity further enhance its drivability.’
The good news for prospective buyers is that there is a significant difference when it comes to values, so if you’re happy to forego fashion then you can get that full-fat E-type experience for significantly less outlay. ‘A good S2 fixed-head Coupé starts around £45k and that rises to £90k for the very best; compare that to £60k to £125k for similar condition 4.2-litre S1s.’
Bodywork condition is key to any purchase because corrosion affects floors, boot floors, wings and inner sills to name but a few areas; engine frames are also sensitive and can crack, which isn’t always immediately visible to buyers. Parts aren’t overly expensive – floors can be had for £400 per side – but labour costs mean restorations can soon become very costly. UK right-hand-drive cars are sought after, and matching numbers are a must.
If the company’s saloons offer ‘grace, space and pace’ then the E-type offers poise, noise and (ahem) choice – roadster, FHC or 2+2. That it shared components with more family-oriented fare allowed Jaguar to sell it for an attractively low price when new. Today, in the extended E-type hierarchy, it’s the way the S2 offers so much of the S1 experience for a fraction of the price that attracts the eye.
‘Only aficionados notice the differences from the S1 cars, everyone else loves them’
As if the Silver Birch brilliance of the DB5’S James Bond spectre wasn’t blinding enough, the Aston
Martin DB6 had to follow another icon, elder brother DB4 also bathing in the reflective glow of its GT and Zagato-bodied racing variants.
In the metal there’s no mistaking the bloodline. The DB6 had lost a touch of the DB4’S purity, but at the front it’s pretty much pure DB5, save for the split front bumper and intake for the oil cooler. The four-inch longer wheelbase is more apparent from the side – the altered rear three-quarter window profile being the telltale sign – but as your eye goes to the rear and there’s no mistaking it, thanks to that most Sixties of additions: the Kamm tail.
There are distinct non-secret agent-linked reasons why the DB models have been the preserve of the gentleman drivers since their inception, and time spent behind the wheel quickly reveals why. Spark up that magnificent Tadek Marek all-alloy six-cylinder engine and the cabin is filled with an understated growl. The steering has a reassuringly weighty feel to it, which sees the ease with which the tall gear lever selects the five-speed ZF gearbox’s ratios come as a surprise. Under load, the triple SU carburettor-fed motor delivers a deliciously broad seam of power – unlike others here today, it’s not an engine that thrives on being thrashed, but at the same time neither does it require mollycoddling.
The cabin feels like a high-quality cocoon and from the driver’s seat vantage point – no pun intended – the Aston has a lovely bumdown/bonnet-up feel to it. For a laddie brought up on tales and films of Ian Fleming’s ubiquitous super spy it’s difficult not to look at the chrome-ringed instruments on the dashboard and imagine fingering controls for a number of diabolical toys with which to dispatch enemies, or to look out over that epic bonnet and imagine devouring the Furka Pass. It is in essence, the same car.
Yet it surpasses the DB5 in several areas. Taking the opportunity of a closed track, at speeds well above legal limits, demonstrates its absolute stability thanks to improved aerodynamics and rear suspension with stronger springs and re-jigged dampers.
‘From a driving experience perspective the DB5 and DB6 are in fact quite similar – the performance and handling are very close to each other,’ explains Aston Martin specialist RS Williams’ Stuart Channon. ‘And as you might expect, maintenance is very similar.’
There is however a considerable disparity when it comes to values, ‘They’re definitely interesting right now; you might find a DB6 auction example around £200k but generally expect to pay upwards of £225k for an entry-level car, and up to £450k for the very best. Compare that to £500k-£975k-plus for a DB5, and a DB6 makes a lot of sense – it offers excellent value right now.’
The price disparity between a similar spec DB5 and DB6 verges on the criminal – perhaps just not one with desires of world domination. Remove Bond from the equation and it’s pretty difficult to justify.
Checking the sills and general bodywork condition of a prospective purchase is key; poor previous repairs can result in a shape that’s not quite correct and full body-off restorations (including mechanicals) can cost upwards of £300k. Aligned to this, confirm what recent
maintenance work has been completed. A car can look lovely externally but has it had an engine or gearbox rebuild?
Finally, ensure it’s a matching numbers (engine and chassis) car not just off the sill plaque, but where they’re stamped too.
The BMW, Alfa and Porsche have each proven that they provide nine tenths of their illustrious siblings’ offerings, but in more affordable packages, substantially so in the Porsche’s case. For the fuel-injected Ferrari, the power disparity with its carburettor versions sees that fraction drop a touch lower.
The Jaguar S2 is in essence the same car as late-model S1 variants, save for a few aesthetic details; that also holds true for the Aston DB6 and its predecessor. Our outlier is the Golf MKII GTI 16v. It’s a significantly better car than the MKI, and remains a performance sweet spot in the early GTI world, but it can’t match it for looks.
Normally I’d be drawn to an out-and-out sports car or a hardcharging B-road blaster, but in these times it’s to the Aston Martin DB6 that I turn. The south of France is usually the go-to destination of choice for an epic GT journey but up to Glasgow (and back again) to see my mum would do, with a Tadek Marek soundtrack, elegant cabin and reassuring solidity of touch to accompany me.
A £250,000 bargain? Yes, such a thing surely does exist.
Thanks to: VW Golf Mk2 Owners Club, Munich Legends, The Classic Car Company, Alfa Romeo Owners’ Club, Porsche Club Great Britain, Trevor Farrington, DTR European Sports Cars, Jaguar Enthusiasts’ Club, Aston Martin Owners’ Club and Richard Head.
‘Price disparity between DB5S and 6s verges on the criminal – perhaps just not one with desires of world domination’