In Memorium: Pillarless Coupes

WHAT DO the Mercedes-Benz SLC, BMW Z3M Coupe and an early Porsche 911 Targa have in common? Answer: they are all coupes based on a cabrio (okay, the 911 Targa is a coupe based on a cabriolet based on a coupe, but if I had only mentioned the BMW and Mercedes I could be accused of favouritism).

I only noticed the connexion between the SLC and the M Coupe after I had purchased them. I think part of the appeal must be solution-based design, rather than aesthetic over-reaching, lending a quirk of rational to an otherwise emotive process. Because so many parts must be shared to keep costs down, the designer has limited options to give the coupe its own personality. Bread-van proportions did the trick for the BMW; Mercedes used lamellae windows and Porsche a bold roll-hoop with wrap-around glass. On bodies that were already familiar, details made the cars memorable.

Today it is hard to contemplate a coupe not having a bespoke bodyside. This reflects the increasing value of design as a critical factor at point of purchase, and the subsequent willingness to invest. But cash still stops flowing as soon as chopping the B-pillar is mentioned. Since the E9, BMW has tended not to bother (although the 8-series is a welcome exception), whereas Mercedes, CLK aside, always makes the effort, imbuing their coupes with the desirable 'pillarless' billing. Does this have anything to do with why their mean transaction price (the measure of premiumness) is higher?

Funny, isn't it, how something so small can make such a difference. That is why Mazda went to such efforts with the delightful 1983 929 Coupe, aka Cosmo. Quite apart from the right-angled geometry of the lines, Mazda effectively made the first split B-pillar, within which the glass descended! I can't think of a smaller window aperture post-quarterlight days. It is a bit mad, yet the car remains appealingly memorable. It is far from pillarless (it has two!) but at least Mazda took steps to ensure it wasn't just another fixed pane. If they had, I wouldn't be writing about it here. 

Collectors alert: There's one for sale here

2015 Mercedes-Benz F015 Luxury In Motion Concept Shows The Value Of Enterprise

AN INTERIOR where anyone can sit anywhere, and where anyone can drive: this is the potential of autonomous driving. The car avoids accidents, so one need not wear a seatbelt. If you do have an accident, intelligent airbags inflate where required. The steering wheel is detachable, and can be passed from person to person to take control. Dashboards become less complex, buttons are fewer and screens are irrelevant because we all carry on our own device. Materials and quality and customization become even more important. It is a relaxing, open place to spend time and enjoy the company of others or the peace of solitude.  Mercedes hasn't gone quite that far with their latest concept, but in producing the F015 they have made a memorable start. 


Here's the message in two steps: fat seats suggest luxury; seats facing each other implies autonomous driving. And now Mercedes owns the image of luxurious autonomous travel. Nevermind that the rest of the interior looks like a set from Star Trek (screens do not an interior make), in terms of communicating a message the Mercedes is faultless. 

Faults are saved for the exterior instead, and here one sees the challenge designers face in providing an attractive shape while providing head-room over rear-facing front seats. It would be unfair to criticise the exterior too harshly, though, as it was always the interior that we are meant to see, but it does point to an interesting communications strategy. You won't see many poorly resolved concept cars from BMW or Audi, but Mercedes is willing to compromise design to gain an edge for innovation, which begs the question Does design or concept do more to reinforce brand image? 


Cars are the ultimate industrial design overachievers: throw a new market at it, introduce new legislation, tighten emissions and threaten congestion charge: so far every obstacle has strengthened the breed and cars are more capable than ever. It proves the desirability of the concept of private transport, a demand that shows no signs of withering. Underlying the success of the car is its supreme adaptability: A thirty year old Peugeot will drive on a road built last year in Pakistan by someone who was not born when the car was designed using fuel bought today.

But autonomous driving is more than taking your hands off the wheel and turning the front seats around; it is an opportunity for designers to redefine the relationship between man and machine. Traditionally this was done mechanically, through the steering wheel and gearshift and ride quality. Now, in an electric age, everything is assisted, and what we feel is largely artificial. We are in a peculiar purgatory between old-world interaction and a future where the car is simply transport. 

This is an indisputable trend, and it is your fault. You liked it when in 1951 Chrysler introduced power steering on the Imperial. You raved when gears silently shifted, and rejoiced when windows wound themselves: autonomy and anaesthetised cars are the culmination of many years of smaller innovations. We kept buying them, and maybe we are the last generation to know that a car used to provide feel. 

1951 Chrysler Imperial

That’s why I drive an older Mercedes. I want to smell leather, to view the road through untinted glass, and hear those colossal doors slam. It is one of the ironies of electric cars that their success coincides with the sales increases of those soulful classics. In the past cars felt mechanical simply because no alternative existed; now, with so many options available to designers we must be careful to do what is right, and not just what is possible.

2014 Audi Prologue Concept. I said, THE AUDI PROLOGUE CONCEPT

THERE ARE 15 trillion good reasons why grey is the new black, each one green-backed. Youth unemployment, stagnating wages and high personal debt means it is aging baby-boomers who will drive economic growth. You can bet your bottom dollar there will soon be myriad products designed specifically for the silver surfers. A Porsche Design stair-lift is closer than you think.

Age cannot be mentioned without health. The ‘internet of things’ means you can be sure your behaviour is being analysed. If you fail to use your Zojirushi I-Pot kettle in the morning to make tea, a relative is informed, just in case. You may not realize it, but your car is watching out for you too. It may not be pressing your hand, rolling up your sleeve or asking you to cough, but a car is fast becoming even more central to our lives, and indeed life.

A car is already a cage in which we shield ourselves to protect us from harm. Big steel pillars sealed with glass separate us from the vigour of our surroundings. Occasionally, they keep other bits of steel and glass out too. Volvo watches your eye movement: blink to often and a small coffee icon chimes to encourage a pit-stop. GM has experimented with sensors that immobilize the engine should you be over the alcohol limit. Brakes know when a wheel is slipping: if ever you’ve been caught in a downpour, traction control has been your guardian angel. Pity the Lincoln Sentinel missed exemplifying the virtue of its namesake.

So a car already does its best to keep you alive, now the goal is to improve your wellbeing. Massaging seats are just the start. They will also rise to meet you, swiveling to accept your corpulent buttocks. Augmented reality will improve visibility, and don’t worry if you never got the hang of touch-screens, buttons will fatten for rheumatic paws, or disappear in favour of voice-control. There is a long list of features that cars will have to tick-off if they are to remain relevant for an aging demographic. But what is the OAP aesthetic? Nissan Juke designers are already used to seeing their creations driven not by sk8erboiz, but by middle-aged women off to the garden centre. The raised H-point (seat height) helps: easy to get into for creaking limbs. But I wonder how many billions playful styling will garner from the trillions available. There is also the challenge of getting Gatoraded designers in the mindset of port-swilling retirees.

So how about the Audi Prologue concept? Of course it is really an A9, a name to draw Audi upmarket to target retired dentists in upstate New York. The designers are the same age as those in Nissan, but the non-niche classicist aesthetic looks suitably elitist and discerning. Over cigars at a dinner party, the A9 would be talking about campaign funds while the Juke juggles the bread rolls.

Having introduced you to my SLC earlier, I am inclined to draw comparison between it and the A9. Naturally, thirty years has brought a sea-change in proportions, but beyond this the thing that strikes you is that Audi has scored a coup with the C-pillar: the SLC’s louvred windows has been re-interpreted as the filler-cap. Audi also uses chiseled swells above each wheel to highlight Quattro provenance, but for both cars I see similarities in the classical proportions with generous brightwork that conventionally lures mature customers. Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose. But so far no car can stop you from driving at 15 mph in the gutter with the left-indicator blinking.

1981 Mercedes-Benz SLC Is In A Class Of Its Own

IT HAS taken 32 years, five cars, and a lot of Google Translate, but at last I own a Mercedes-Benz. Yesterday I said yes to a beautiful sage-green 380 SLC. Or 380 SL C, to be precise. The kerning is important. A separate 'C' shows that it was a coupe derived from the SL. When SLC replaces SLK in a couple of years, you can be sure that space will have disappeared. Ironed out. Homogenised. Perhaps the most appealing aspect of the C107 SLC is how for so long it appeared an anomaly in the Mercedes range.

With no direct heir or precedent, the SLC was for a long time the distorted version of the splendid roadster. In developing the SL, Mercedes’ styling team worked hard to visually lengthen the short-ish wheelbase of the roadster: cue an abundance of chrome and ribbed flanks. These elongations complemented the more limousine-like comfort levels that the car introduced. Trouble is, the SLC added a foot to these lines, and those tricks were stretched beyond their intent.

Yet look at today’s cars: hatchbacks are enormous, and the wheelbase that once seemed too much on the SLC is now comparable to that of a C-Class. Suddenly those proportions leave the SL looking stumpy, and the SLC in a class of its own.

Class. An important word to describe the sage Mercedes. When I first drove her (and it is a her), I can only describe the feeling as if gently commandeering a stately dowager. Inputs were suggestions, for which you would be glad of a response. Turn the wheel clockwise, and she would consider, before deigning to swoop to the right. Press your foot closer to the thick carpet, and hear her sigh ‘must we?’ before kicking down and huffing along. She sweeps down the road as though descending a marble staircase, her chrome hanging with the effortless superiority of pearls.

The model we found is a 1981 model originally registered in Switzerland, and until recently resided near the shores of Lake Constance in Germany. Constance, as we now address her, sports a beige leather interior, electric windows and sunroof, plus ABS. Naturally, her alloy V8 is complemented by the 4-speed automatic, and naturally, any performance gusto one might expect can be bettered by, say, a Honda Jazz. We tried earnestly to encourage a degree of alacrity, to which she responded by doing everything she had been doing, but more loudly. By that time there was more speed it did not seem quite so necessary; better to flick the cruise control lever up and nestle into the squishy chairs at 3000rpm. Now that you have been introduced, don't be surprised if you meet Constance in future.