John Simister: Driving a BMW 2002 Turbo to Goodwood for 75MM

This wonderfully politically incorrect decoration was just what the worried world didn't need when the 2002 Turbo was launched, just after the 1973 energy crisis, and BMW quickly deleted the script. The next couple of years of petrol parsimony, speed limits and disapproval of motoring enjoyment scuppered the Turbo's sales chances, so just 1660 examples were made between January 1974 and summer 1975, all with left-hand drive. Too bad: if BMW had been able to make more, there would be more to go round today and the world would be a richer place.

BMW's British importer has one, though, and it is in this car that I drove to the Goodwood Members' Meeting just past. I was very excited by this, not least because I owned a regular 1973 2002 back in the 1980s (with a shocking oil-burning habit) and I've always wanted to try the fully steroidal version.

Do not be fooled by the S registration, probably applied when this Turbo first came to the UK as a lightly used car. It's a 1975 example, recently restored and in rude health. The 2002 Turbo represents two major firsts in motoring history: it was the BMW motor sport division's first majorly performance-enhanced production road car, predating the M-cars, and it was the first European turbocharged production car, predating the Porsche 911 Turbo and, by several years, the Saab 99 Turbo.

It looks brilliantly, unashamedly functional with the front and rear spoilers and the bolted-on wheel arch blisters, covering – with generous clearance – fat little tyres by the standards of the time, mounted on lovely Mahle aluminium wheels. Inside, we find deep bolstering on seats as black and vinyl-covered as the open-plan dashboard and the door trims with their latch-handles that you squeeze with your hand clasping the door-pull.

Each of the three dials has a vertical and a horizontal line, giving the impression of a gunsight's crosshairs. The dials are set in a surround originally red, rather than the standard car's wood, but now faded to brownness. The steering wheel has a grippy leather rim, the pedals sprout from the floor like an old 911's or Alfa Giulia's. My 2002 had 'normal' pedals, so these are unexpected.

All the windows seem impossibly deep by today's standards, and the pillars ultra-slim. The airiness is invigorating, as is the promise of a dial my 2002 did not possess. Yes, it's the boost gauge. 

Its needle is tickled into life as the engine fires, then settles to an uneven idle as the fuel injection finds its feet. The 2002 Turbo has a reputation for lots of turbo lag and sudden, irretrievable tail-slides once the lag has gone, and there's a lingering notion that it's a bit uncouth and not to be trusted. Such is the way of an early, old-school turbocharger installation.

So, let's drive to Goodwood and try to keep it all in one piece. It's a 6.30am start, the roads are quiet. Dry, too, which is comforting. Up the hill from my house to the bypass I feel a familiarity born not of a distant 2002 memory but of my old Lancia Fulvia HFs, similarly left-hand drive and with a five-speed dogleg gearbox with first towards me and back. It's all feeling very Euro-sporty in here.

Not very fast, though. The engine hums sweetly enough, the KKK turbocharger smoothing the exhaust note, but early turbo cars had very low compression ratios (this one is just 6.9:1) so their off-boost pace could be feeble. I'm on the bypass now, the revs are up to 4000rpm but it's all very soft and gentle.

And then… with no change in accelerator pedal position, somewhere a blue touchpaper is lit, the tail squats, the turbo whistles and whatever was in my mirrors is shrinking very fast. This is properly rapid, and there's another gear to go. Time to back off, then to re-accelerate experimentally with a fine pop and fluff from the exhaust. Yes, it couldn't feel much more turbocharged than this.

With the motorway element over, I'm on the twisty, sometimes fast roads into Sussex. I'm learning how to keep the ample torque ready to exploit as the BMW sits firmly through the bends, rear wheels nibbling as their treads transmit the loads. Driving this car briskly becomes an exercise in balance and boost anticipation, helped by steering that's very positive and informative once past the slight softness around the middle that's typical of a steering box. 

I'm on a roll now, thoroughly enjoying this rare machine that's a lot less fierce, a lot more affable, than I expected. In outright terms, it's not massively fast, its contemporarily-recorded 0-60mph time of around eight seconds slightly compromised by the lag factor, but once on boost, it's a munch-'em-up-and-spit-'em-out overtaker. That's the effect of 170bhp and 180lb ft of torque in a small, light car.

As I enter the roundabout at the entry to Petworth, serendipity steps in. An acid yellow 2002, in lovely condition and also Goodwood-bound, joins me from the left. It's even heading for the same car park on the Lavant Straight, and soon we have a parked pair.

Being a hopeless actor, I have to admit to my Turbo's true ownership. Still, had I £70,000 or so to spare I would bid on the Turbo that's up for sale at H&H's Duxford auction on March 29^th. Sadly I haven't, but I've had a brilliant time in VPJ 854S. The memory of that will do very nicely.