Every car community has something unique about it and the VAG (VW/Audi Group + Porsche) folks are not alone in the ideology of “naming their cars” but, it is a forgone conclusion that if you meet a VAG owner, their car has a name. However, in the special sect of DeLorean DMC-12 owners, they refer to each other much like guests of Mark Greene’s “Cars Yeah” – by their number. In the case of DMC-12 owners, its more specifically by the last four digits of their VIN. And if you spend any time on their forums, you’ll see usernames and salutations as simple as, “Hello, from 3900!”
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For this particular Retro Test Drive, I found myself in the great state of Texas on business with some extra time to visit with friends. With a lot of hand-wringing on the part of Don Weberg from Garage Style Magazine, he relented and was willing to let me spend a few hours with his prized, all-original 1981 DeLorean DMC-12 VIN#3900. Don reminded me often that I was “one of the few folks that has driven this car in its entire 42 years of being on the road. Be careful with it.” I got this.
“No full send?” I asked.
“Good Luck.” He muttered.
“Challenge Accepted!” I grinned.
Driving a “Hero Car” is very different than just your ordinary Test Drive.
What exactly is a Hero Car? These are the cars made famous on TV or in movies that are globally recognizable and often lusted over by fans and car enthusiasts alike. Some simple ones come to mind: The Porsche 944 from Sixteen Candles, The Ferrari 250 California from Ferris Bueller, Magnum P.I.’s Ferrari 308 Targa, Knight Riders’ 1982 Pontiac Trans-Am, the Smokey & the Bandit Trans-Am, the color changing Lamborghini Countach from Cannonball Run, the list goes on and on. But who doesn’t fantasize about wanting to drive “Doc Brown’s Time Machine?” #childofthe80s #moviestar #backtothefuture
I’m also reminded of an old saying “Never Meet Your Heroes…” and people usually stop there without thinking. But ask yourself: Why? Why Not? “… because you will surely be disappointed” – that’s what many people will finally settle on.
That said, I’ve had the privilege of being handed the keys to lots of hero cars. Some amazing, and some not so much. As I quickly jog my memory, a short list peeks out from the clouds: The Porsche 930, Ferrari 328 (in place of the Magnum 308), Porsche 944, 1977 Pontiac Trans-Am, 1985 Renault R5 Turbo II, Dodge Viper, Porsche 928, and countless others. But now, I get to add a DeLorean to that list.
I’d also like to point out that my test drives are more than just a quick lap around the block. I’ve gotten the opportunity to really test these cars, whether it’s at an autocross, on track, or hours and hours on B-roads. In this case, I don’t like the idea of meeting a celebrity, blushing like an awkward teenager, shyly asking for their autograph and running away idiotically star struck. I love getting to know these cars and their owners, studying them, debunking expectations, rumors, and misinformation.
“So where are we headed?” Don asks me after a cup of coffee and a delicious soft-baked cinnamon scone from a local bakery on a chilly November morning. Like I have a clue where anything is in Texas! “You’ve only lived out here for about a year, point us in a direction and let’s go explore,” I replied. “I know just the spot, a place we call ‘Blair Witch Road’.”
Where we’re going… we NEED roads.
The gullwing doors are one of the most iconic parts of this vehicle, bar none. Truthfully, I expected them to be medieval devices of torture and decapitation but was pleasantly surprised to find out that between the pneumatic shocks and the torsion spring assist they are quite easy to operate.
There are upsides and downsides to these doors. The are extremely compact in the sense that unlike a traditional door they don’t extrude from the vehicle, where tight parking spots can prove awkward. Instead, everything is confined to the perimeter of the vehicle. Getting in and out of the car is about as graceful as you’d expect from any low riding vehicle, but I find that with the gullwings, it’s more like sliding in and out of a caged race car, than plopping into your standard road car.
For drivers in skirts, the DMC-12 could prove a bit more challenging, dare I say, revealing given the awkward angle of egress. Being a “gym rat,” I can see why John Z. DeLorean liked these doors. The muscle motion required to open and close them is similar to that of a weighted pull down, using more of your biceps and shoulder than having to hunch out of the car, extend your back and pull towards your rib cage. One could argue, these doors are “healthier” than what we’re all accustomed to.
The door closes with a gentle thud akin to a bank vault closing, and you suddenly feel encapsulated in the DMC’s interior, which becomes very small, nearly claustrophobic, because of the curvature of the gullwings. This is one of its downsides, but not it’s major flaw. The number 1 issue with the doors is the glass, which many don’t realize is completely fixed, except for the powered “toll booth windows.” Even with today’s engineering skills, it would be quite the feat to figure out how to successfully recede that compound curve glass into the door. Compromises were made, and the toll windows were added.
The visibility is… different. I would put the DMC-12 up there with other exotics of the period where style was emphasized over function. Cars like the Lamborghini Countach, Lotus Esprit, and other “wedges” come to mind. All of which are spellbinding cars that are terrible to see out of. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that you sit very low in the DMC-12. And so, gauging where the outer corners of the car exist, especially the front, can be difficult. Having a rearview mirror is near-irrelevant (and Don doesn’t have one) because of the rear louvers, making the VW-style side mirrors your best friend while driving. Getting your eyes up and out across the A-pillar and the hood for corner entry really takes some getting used to. The front right corner of the car feels like it’s a mile away from the driver (much like a Viper with its long snout).
Getting behind the wheel of the DeLorean was very familiar. I’d never sat in one before, or even been this close up in all honestly. Even though it was marketed as an “American Sports Car” (built in Ireland), I found that as I inspected the cabin there were parts that distinctly came from FIAT, Renault, and the glass is from Sekurit/Saint Gaibon – the same folks that supplied glass for VW back in those days.
From the MOMO-like steering wheel, to the VDO-like gauges it all felt, well… very European. I credit this feeling to the work of Giorgetto Giugiaro, who had a large hand in designing the DMC-12, and who’s portfolio spans the gambit of names like: Maserati, Audi, BMW, Volkswagen, Lancia and many, many others. Having driven and owned other “Giugiaro Cars,” the DMC-12 was instinctual and that familiarity made the experience easier and more rewarding.
As I turned the key, the motor turned over with almost no hesitation. I detected a low bass rumble similar to the early flat-6 Porsche 911s. This is in part because many six cylinders, depending on their aperture angle sound similar. In this case the Peugeot-Renault-Volvo (PRV) 2.8-litre is a 90-degree engine. Having driven plenty of old 911s, that sound behind my ears was a pleasant reminder of “how things used to be.”
Blipping the throttle, the DMC-12 gave a slight chimed-whistle that VW Beetle owners might be familiar with. Opening up the taps the PRV-V6 does change its tone and distances itself from the 911 completely. While cruising, the DMC-12 is rather quiet – despite some road/wind noise from the doors – and having a conversation doesn’t require screaming over the RPM band at any point.
Below are some additional things I noted about the DMC-12 as I began to drive it around town before heading on our adventure to “Blair Witch Road.”
- There is no dead pedal – your left leg ends up resting against the door most of the time; waiting for the next shift. But there is tons of leg room on both sides of the car. Don’t forget John Z. DeLorean was well over 6-foot tall! #bigmanlittlecar
- The shifter is in an odd spot, its too high from the floor, and too far from the steering wheel unlike like a Porsche 944 where everything is very close and deliberately ergonomic. The act of moving your arm across the center console means quick shifts aren’t really possible.
- It’s very hard to heel/toe downshift because of awkward pedal spacing. It’s possible, but requires a lot of ankle rotation and can’t be done quickly. Pedal extenders could be used, but the accelerator naturally sits higher than the brake making it even more challenging to adapt to.
- The speedo only goes to 85 mph, because this was the common “gas saving” technique of the time. 55 mph was still the national average. Getting to 88 means pegging the needle!
- The HVAC vents and switches in the door remind me of a 928. The car doesn’t pretend to be a 2+2 or have silly “jump seats” for purse dogs or two year old’s in the back. The parcel shelf is a nice touch and convenient for storing even a full-sized backpack, or flux capacitor.
Heading down Blair Witch Road
There’s never a dull moment with Don. His eagle-eyed view of the surroundings made for pleasant distraction and conversation not really talking about the car but more along the lines of, “I wonder what’s in that garage? and that garage?” He’s always thinking about his next story.
“Blair Witch Road,” as Don likes to call the stretch we were on, proved to be just the type of road I was hoping for. Heading completely out of town into nothingness, lined with trees and aged tarmac with no lines, as well as blind and tight corners, it allowed the DMC-12 to provide me with the feedback I needed to judge its handling prowess and to show me it’s true colors. Don is a very capable and smooth driver, and he’s turned many laps at racetracks all over the West Coast when he used to review cars for MotorTrend, but I could tell he was getting a touch nervous when I wanted to push the DMC-12. So I decided to take it to 11/10ths, instead of 13. #halfsend #turnitto11
Keeping in mind that the DMC-12 has a configuration and weight distribution similar to a 911, with all its engine hanging out past the rear axles and very close to the rear bumper of the car, I wanted to treat it with the same respect I would a spirited drive with a classic Porsche. Trailing-throttle oversteer is always the enemy of this layout. All shifting and braking should be completed in a straight line, which means no aggressive trail braking. “Being able to properly Heel/Toe would be great about now,” I kept thinking to myself as I set up the next corner, and powered out.
Don’s DMC-12 only has 22k miles, it’s been well maintained with little-to-no upgrades of any kind. He considers himself a “purist” and wants to leave the car as original as possible, but enjoys driving it whenever he can. The backbone chassis design is very rigid with little flex, but the suspension is soft due in part to age, but also due to the shock absorber technology of that time. A nice set of refreshed Koni’s or Bilstein’s would transform the handling of the car tremendously. Even without power steering, turning isn’t a problem at speed and you can be very exact with your inputs because of the feedback from the wheel.
At 2800 pounds, the DMC-12 was heavy in its day, but by today’s standards it’s a lightweight, and it doesn’t really have enough power to get itself into too much trouble. We did get some nice rotation out of it during one spirited corner attack. But just like a 911, the front end is light and darty. The DMC-12 turns in quickly, but you really need to steer it off the rear wheels to be fast in and out of any corner, and that’s a completely different driving style than most people are used to.
What the PRV-V6 lacks in overall power it makes up for in gearing. I’m still unclear as to whose gearbox/transaxle is strapped to the PRV but I’d argue that the gear pack, its spacing (ratio), and final drive are perfectly mated for the engine. Even with 130-hp, the motor feels torquey everywhere in the RPM band. Overall, the DMC-12 handles exactly like I expected… but would no doubt be a ton more fun with say… 250-hp (or a turbo).
Wait… so is it really a sports car?
On our return trip back down “Blair Witch Road,” Don spotted a garage turned into a vintage filling and service station, so we decided to stop and chat with the owner. With some time to collect my thoughts and study the car more, I kept asking myself, “Is it really a sports car?” I came to the conclusion that it is NOT.
So, then, what is it? I would consider it a “Sports Coupe” or what many might also call today a “Grand Tourer.” And now that I’ve driven it, spent time with it and dissected it, to me… it’s more 928, than 911. And I’m okay with that!
I’ve driven and autocrossed several 928s over the years, and I adore them. Is the 928 a better car than the DMC-12? – sure, but that’s not the point. I think the DMC-12 as a car (and not a movie star) has been mislabeled for years. Once I took the veiled expectation of “Corvette, 911, Nissan-Z, Ferrari 308” out of the equation and saw it for what it really is, it all makes way more sense what John Z. DeLorean’s goal was. It doesn’t do any one thing amazingly well, but it can do everything at the same time, and I can really appreciate that in a car.
When you look at the DeLorean DMC-12 closely, and you keep the “naysayers” out of your ears, you realize that for all its faults, it’s actually the work of two geniuses getting together. Both John Z. DeLorean (who’s name adorns the car), and Giorgetto Guigiaro who helped design it. They came together to develop a car that was almost 10 years ahead of its time. When you follow its development from the mid-1970’s until its demise in 1982/83, this car could have been held back easily until 1985 and sold alongside the VW Scirocco, Audi Coupe GT, Porsche 944, etc., and no one one would known it was designed at the height of the Malaise Era. More importantly, this car was “the beginning” of a dream that unfortunately was never completely realized. Who knows what a 2nd Generation DMC-12 would have been like, if they were ever built.
Would I buy one?
That’s the question Don left me with after many hours driving his car, not “So, What do you think?” which is an easier question to answer. In the end, I couldn’t answer his question directly. It gave me pause, but I did decide, however, that as “hero cars” go, the DMC-12 is “the best of the worst,” without sounding too harsh.
Maybe I’m weird, but I actually think my least favorite part about the DeLorean DMC-12, even though it’s the second most notable feature to the gullwings, is the stainless steel. It was a cool idea (then) for rust prevention and preservation of the vehicle, but also a cost-cutting measure in the paint & body department. Much like Henry Ford’s Model-Ts “you can have it in any color you like, so long as it’s black.” In working with Kat DeLorean at the DeLorean Legacy Project, I did learn about the recyclable merits of stainless steel and can understand that angle. But… how cool is this? (Below).
In the end, the DMC-12 is actually a great driver’s car without all the pomp-and-circumstance that comes with owning other grand tourers. With only 9000 of these cars produced globally, and fewer still in existence, you’re sure to be the only person with one in your area, let alone at the next Cars & Coffee. So get ready for lots of stares, silly questions, and an undying admiration for a truly iconic car.
I really enjoy our “retro test drives” and I’ve been very fortunate to have conducted many of them over the years, not all of them fully documented, but experienced in just the same way as this one. I’m super appreciative to everyone who has lent me their keys over the years, and especially to Don for trusting me with his prized DeLorean. If you have a car you’d like us to test/review please don’t hesitate to reach out at crewchief@gtmotorsports.org.
