Feature: A Classic Contemporary
12/01/2007
On a lazy sunday in Marin County, Calif., the black Ferrari 360 Modena with the chromed-out wheels is doing its best to attract the attention of all the farmers-market regulars. Maranello’s black beauty snorts and sprints through the crowded Civic Center parking lot, getting a few heads to turn in the process. But the real party is a few yards away, where four DeLoreans sit side by side, gullwing doors aloft.There’s the gawking family of five that’s just rented Back to the Future, the grandmother in a wheelchair who pets one car’s stainless-steel hide, and a four-year-old who blurts out "When were this car made?"
"In 1981," answers owner Ryan McCaffrey, 27, "or about the same time those Scooby-Doo cartoons you probably like were created."
The tyke, satisfied, marches back to his mom to report the answer.
"This sort of attention is typical," says McCaffrey. "I’m just surprised that it’s been an hour and we haven’t gotten the ‘Where’s the Flux Capacitor?’ question yet."
In the rich history of American automobilia, few cars embody as much pop culture passion and pathos as the brainchild of John Z. DeLorean, whose personal saga is every bit as worthy of the big screen as Preston Tucker’s—and then some. With DeLorean you get an interesting car as well as beautiful women, FBI stings, cocaine and bankruptcy. And now, rebirth.
That’s right, if you want to buy a new DeLorean a quarter-century after the last cars rolled off the ill-fated factory floor in Northern Ireland, all that’s required is a call to the DeLorean Motor Company outside of Houston, Texas. And a check for $57,500. The first car is slated for completion in March.
"There are a lot of ways folks get hooked on these cars, from the appeal of the stainless steel to an appreciation for John’s story to a love of the Back to the Future movies," says James Espey, vice president of the new DMC, founded by Steven Wynne 10 years ago, when he purchased the name—with DeLorean’s say-so; he died at 80 in 2005—as well as all remaining DeLorean parts and a complete set of blueprints.
"But mostly I’d guess it’s John’s story," says Espey. "Here’s the son of a factory worker who turns into a brilliant General Motors engineer. He dated supermodels, built his own car company and then saw it all go away. A lot of people are fascinated by that. And although most of our business is in maintaining or restoring these cars, a lot of customers kept saying, ‘We’d love to be able to buy a new one.’"
Making this renaissance possible are the 55 tractor trailers’
worth of parts DMC has squirreled away in its 40,000-square-foot building. DMC
stocks 95 percent of the 2,800 parts that constitute a complete DeLorean, while
the remaining 5 percent "are parts within parts, such as the internal components
of a steering rack," says Espey. "We’re not going to break apart a perfectly
good steering rack to get it, so often we’ll just have to make it."
Which explains the economic engine behind the decision to build
new DeLoreans: the capital will make manufacturing obscure parts feasible. "Some
owners accuse us of wanting to build these cars just to get rid of our
inventory, but the truth is they’ll benefit from it, too, when it comes to
buying parts," says Espey.
The new DeLoreans will remain largely faithful to the originals, whose high points included a Lotus-derived chassis and Giugiaro-etched lines. Even the middling V-6 remains—a 2.8-liter Volvo-Peugeot-Renault number capable of 130 hp—although in optional supercharged form it will produce 250 hp.
"We’ll also make sure the car offers features such as satellite navigation, Bluetooth, iPod connections, heated seats, and other things people have gotten used to," says Espey. "This DeLorean should finally behave more like it looks."Those looks continue to catch eyes. A wedge sculpted in classic Italdesign fashion—modern, angular, and well balanced—the DeLorean’s stainless-steel exterior stands out like no metallic paint can. When the gullwing doors pop open, the machine shouts its exotic-car aspirations in the manner of a Lamborghini or a Mercedes 300SL. There was so much potential but, ultimately, so many problems as well.
When DeLorean’s first DMC-12s left the factory in Dunmurry, outside Belfast, many had quality-control problems linked to the inexperienced nature of his workforce. Panel fit adjustments and the replacement of weak alternators were often undertaken at U.S. dealerships. But price ($25,000 in 1981, or two-thirds of the way to a new Porsche 911) coupled with high interest rates meant many of the cars just sat.
Strapped for cash, DeLorean found himself at a 1982 meeting with men eager to loan him money, when a briefcase of cocaine was thrown into the mix. Busted on videotape in what proved to be an FBI sting, DeLorean faced a series of charges—for which he was later acquitted. But not before the experience ruined him financially, and bankrupted him emotionally.
All told, some 9,200 DeLoreans were made, and an impressive 6,500 are still thought to be on the road. For some, there is no other car.
"I bought my DeLorean when I first got to college. I’ve put 150,000 miles on it, and I love it every time I get in it," says Tony Hilger, 32, an industrial designer from Southern California and president of the DeLorean Owners Association, one of various Web-fueled groups that link fanatics of the fabled car together. "The car never fails to get comments. Some people start talking about the movie, others offer to buy it on the spot."
By exotic car standards, buying an original DeLorean is not a
wallet-busting proposition. The new DMC, which peddles cars in various
conditions, has dealers near Naples, Fla., in Chicago and Seattle, and just
south of Los Angeles. There’s even a dealer in Amsterdam. A glimpse at DMC’s
Web-based For Sale list finds everything from a pristine 1981 model with only
1,050 miles selling for $45,000, to a far more typical vehicle posting
30,000-plus miles with an asking price of around $30,000.
"These cars don’t require crazy money to keep going, especially
when you look at the price of some average Lexus parts," says Danny Botkin, a
former mechanic and Mac Tools salesman who is now the impassioned manager of
DMC’s dealership in Garden Grove, Calif. "What you get with the DeLorean is a
showstopper at any light or car show, especially now that the vehicle is
officially considered a classic at 25 years of age."
Botkin calls the car "an ’80s icon," one that some owners rent out for "either ’80s-themed grown-up parties or birthday parties for kids who’ve just seen the Back to the Future movies."
In fact, he knows quite a bit about the DeLorean’s other life as that movie’s time machine. To date, he has built three so-called BTTF DeLoreans, replicating by hand each and every piece of the movie-car’s jet-pack haunches and interior gadgetry. Just bring him a car and $70,000. Which is exactly what Paul Nigh did.
"Four years ago, I found out I was diabetic, so I stayed home for a while and watched the BTTF trilogy," says Nigh, a sergeant at a Southern California state prison. "That led to me buying memorabilia from the movies, which eventually led me to the obvious: That I had to have that car."
In 2004, Nigh attended a BTTF confab at Universal Studios, and asked Botkin—who’d brought his latest creation to the event—whether he’d sell. Botkin was game, but the price was too high for Nigh.Not long after, Nigh bought a hurting DeLorean for $9,000, and paid another $9,000 to get it running. Then, he turned it over to Botkin. More than two years later, the car was finished. Far from being one man’s private obsession, Nigh often takes the car to events.
Ask those northern California owners of the basic, classic DeLorean what they think of those obsessed with its BTTF iteration, and you get everything from pregnant pauses to shrugs.
"Hey, if they’re enjoying the car, that’s great," says McCaffrey, a senior editor at a magazine targeting Xbox fans. (In either a coincidence or an insight into what sort of people are attracted to DeLoreans, all four of the folks assembled in Marin labor in high-tech-related jobs.)
These men and their toys exude more fun than attitude. Just look at their vanity plates: RUSTPRF, BKINTYM and OUTTIME. Whether showing off their steeds’ fairly rudimentary engine or demonstrating how the doors close, the atmosphere is one of a science fair on a crisp fall day. Until they start to wax nostalgic about DeLorean, the man.
"He didn’t fit in, he was a maverick," affirms Rich Wipfler,
54, who works for a high-tech company in Menlo Park, and bought his DeLorean new
in 1982, paying $27,000 for his dream car. "That guy was a rock star."
"It was page one when he was arrested, and page six when he was
acquitted," fumes Ken Montgomery of Sacramento, a systems analyst and president
of the Northern California DeLorean Motor Club.
Montgomery then goes on a tear, recounting with a history professor’s flair the intricacies of DeLorean’s deal in Northern Ireland, emphasizing his attempt to stave off sectarian violence by employing people in his factory, as well as the British government’s unwillingness to provide DeLorean a lifeline when he needed it most. You’d think he was talking about a revolutionary, not a car builder. But such are the passions stirred by the man behind his eponymous car.
Eager to lighten the mood a bit, Gregor Hohpe, 40, of San Francisco, a Google software engineer, mentions that he’s about to transfer to the company’s Japan offices for a spell. He’d like to bring the car. "There’s a huge number of DeLorean fans over there," Hohpe says. "It’d be so great to cruise around there in this."
Hohpe seems to have a thing for interesting car experiments that didn’t quite make it. His other baby is a Cadillac Allanté, the ill-fated convertible that GM got Pininfarina to design. "It’s easier to get parts for my DeLorean than that Allanté, believe me," he says with a sigh. Which is perhaps why he’s also the proud owner of an Audi A4 wagon. Funky cars from the ’80s don’t always make for reliable transport.
Yet the group is eager to show off just what riding in a DeLorean is all about. McCaffrey hops in the driver’s seat and urges his passenger to pull hard on the dangling interior door strap. The gullwing door shuts with an admirable thud.Firing up the ignition, the engine soon settles into a vaguely mechanical rumble. Although the power plant is just behind the car’s occupants, hard acceleration—however hard that is considering the modest 130 hp—fails to produce much of a sports-car stir. McCaffrey anticipates the emotional letdown.
"It’s not really about the engine, not when it’s stock," he says. "It’s really about just enjoying the ride."
As the DeLorean snakes its way around the lush grounds that encircle the Frank Lloyd Wright–designed Marin County Civic Center, one can’t help but feel . . . well, transported back in time. In this case, to an age when cars packed silly 85 mph speedometers and had to meet ride height specifications that often meant goofy gaps at the wheel wells. Back to a time when looking good in a car was often all you could hope for.
"There are only two things I hate," McCaffrey confesses as he struggles to turn the power steering–free car around in a cul-de-sac. "The engine and turning radius."
But the rest, it’s safe to say, he adores.
The cool, car-from-another-planet vibe of its stainless-steel body. The way the doors are designed to open no matter how tight the parking space. The manner in which this car—more than perhaps any other car in our mass-manufacturing age—truly represents the singular vision, desire and, yes, hubris of one man. There was only one John DeLorean, and he had time to make only one DeLorean DMC-12.
Wipfler sensed that some 27 years ago, when he walked into a dealer and bought a car that he cherishes to this day. For anyone else wanting to return to that moment in 1981, the trip back is only a phone call to Texas away.
DeLorean Motor Company, 800.872.3621, www.delorean.com