In a couple of days I'll have a review of the US-market seventh-generation GTI. Spoilers for that review can be easily obtained by checking out my drive of the Euro GTI from last fall. I'll also have two articles on the new "TSI" 1.8-liter base Golf and the next-generation TDI, all from the same drive event.
VW's eager to emphasize the history of the Golf in America, and part of their plan to do so involved having examples of all six previous GTIs available to drive for short loops. Naturally, I started at the beginning.
The original round-headlight Golf GTI was the proverbial "class killer", offering 110 fuel-injected horsepower to move just 1,800 pounds of Giugiaro-creased steel. We didn't get that car in the United States, but the buzz on the car was so good over here, even in a pre-WWW era, that VW decided to add some luster to the rather dismal Westmoreland Rabbit by creating a GTI variant.
With ninety horsepower to push 2100 pounds, plus the unlovely square headights, dual-purpose corner markers, and wide taillights, the Rabbit GTI wasn't exactly a perfect isomorphism. Still, to a nation starved for amusing automobiles, it was meat on the bone.
This particular example was in robust and tight condition, with a noisy aftermarket exhaust but no other obvious alterations. I hadn't driven a Mk1 in something like twenty years, so it was with considerable and cheerful surprise that I realized that I was immediately comfortable in the car. There's no tumblehome, which means no wasted space, and it's possible to put one's arm on the windowsill without pulling a ribcage muscle or dislocating one's shoulder. The shifter falls ready to — oh, sheesh. If we're going to get all DED, Jr. about it, why not just let the man squick, er, speak:
[T]he Volkswagen GTI is probably the most entertaining car ever assembled by American workers. If the GTI were a woman, she'd have an IQ of about 130, play scratch golf, break 25 at skeet with a .410, know how to carve a leg of lamb, never miss a Jay Ward cartoon festival, and have an inexhaustible and playful curiosity about sex.
Alright then. One thing that Mr. Davis fails to mention — were the GTI a woman, she would have already been eight years old by the time she arrived on American shores. In car years, that's far too ancient to rouse the interest of Roman Polanski, you know. The Rabbit was an old car by 1983 and the 1984 Honda Civic was about to make it look prehistoric. Still, freed from the very strict lens of contemporaneous competition, the Rabbit is impressive and handsome, with the red velvet interior somehow managing to avoid offending the sensibilities.
On the move, this old car can easily hit the 50 mark in about nine seconds, which is what was promised back in those days when publishing a 0-60 statistic was both depressing and a not-so-tacit invitation to break the law. It sounds simply brilliant, spinning freely through the short gearing and conveying enthusiasm in a way that is difficult to describe without resorting to cliche. This isn't a fast car, but it wants to go as fast as it can and better yet you can uncork it in pretty much all conditions outside an active school zone.
The no-brand tires on the fourteen-inch wheels barely have enough grip to make wide right-angle turns at 25mph, but the behavior of the car is outstanding at those very low levels. It doesn't handle as well as my 1990 Fox did on thirteen-inch Pirelli P4s, but that has be due to the miserable rubber. Regardless, it's not as "pushy" as most modern FWD cars. Both cornering attitude and actual lean angle can be adjusted with a quick lift of the throttle in midcorner.
Driving this old Rabbit simply makes you feel good. The reasons are easy to understand. After years spent in the dank black cave of the modern automobile, the 360-degree greenhouse, tremendous natural lighting, and bright red interior offer salvation for the enthusiast soul. Sit upright! Work a nonassisted steering wheel! Reach down and stir a shifter with just five gears! Even the three pedals work differently than you'd expect, being far more up-and-down than back-and-forth. It's involving, and brilliant, and tremendous fun.
Problems? Sure, there are a few. It probably has the crash-test strength of a wet grocery bag. The engine, for all its in-your-face vigor, is too weak to make merging on the 80-mph modern freeway anything but a terror. It has a "RoadReady" tape deck by Craig but it can't even think about keeping up with the tremendous noise from the wind, the road, and the Westmoreland-assembled interior. A long freeway trip in this car would rival a Harley-Davidson Sportster for discomfort. Still, I'd take one in a heartbeat despise its shortcomings.
Alas, too soon the drive is over and it's time to return the Rabbit to its lineup, where it will sit untouched for the rest of the day as dozens of journalists walk right by it to get an extra serving of coffee or post-lunch treats. They say you should never meet your heroes — but if this GTI occupies a place in your automotive Pantheon, feel free to try it for yourself.
from The Truth About Cars http://ift.tt/Jh8LjA
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