I've had the opportunity to drive two examples of the Fiat X1/9. A couple of years ago, when I met up with Kevin Barnett in Charlotte, North Carolina, to photograph his Fiat X1/9 (well, actually a Bertone X1/9) for a feature in Hemmings Sports & Exotic Car, he generously offered me a chance to get behind the wheel. More recently, when I was in Nashville, Tennessee, for the 2011 Fiat FreakOut, Jeff Lane of the Lane Motor Museum tossed me the keys to the museum's like-new Bertone X1/9 for the weekend. ("You're going to the FreakOut, right?" Jeff asked. "You need an Italian car to drive." Okay, Jeff, twist my arm.)
The first thing you notice about the X1/9 is just how small it really is. It’s not quite four feet tall, making it even lower than the low-slung Triumph Spitfire, and its wheelbase stretches barely 87 inches, in spite of its mid-engine configuration. Getting in is a bit awkward with the fiberglass targa panel in place, though the door openings are commendably wide.
Once in the driver's seat, you realize that this is a car you wear, fitted through the waist though not too tight in the inseam. There's plenty of legroom available, and the steering wheel is close enough that the classic arms-out driving posture is not required. The bucket seats provide adequate support, without being confining. The intrusion of the front wheelwell, a compromise dictated by the short wheelbase, means that the three pedals are grouped over to the right, without much room for my size 10-1/2s. There are lots of gauges to look at, including the counter-clockwise tachometer. (These photos are of Kevin Barnett's Bertone X1/9, which has custom black-on-white gauges. The factory faces are white on black.)
The fuel-injected SOHC 1.5-liter four starts readily, making a pleasant hum somewhere over my right shoulder. The spare tire and fuel tank occupy the space between me and the engine, and there must be some amount of sound deadening, too, because the engine noise is distant. Some critics of the day faulted the action of the five-speed's gearshift, but I find very little play, even if it's not quite as snick-snick as, say, the stickshift on a Spitfire.
Leisurely acceleration is generally acknowledged to be the X1/9's greatest flaw, and this example does nothing to contradict that viewpoint. Fuel injection helps driveability - there was not so much as a hiccup, not even from cold - but the 75 ponies on tap can do only so much when confronted with more than 2,000 pounds of steel. A 0-60 time of more than 11 seconds means that just about every minivan on the road can leave me in the dust. On the other hand, being mere inches off the pavement adds to the impression of speed. Out on the highway, the illusion of 70 MPH is broken by a glance down at the speedometer, whose needle hovers at 60 MPH. The unassisted disc brakes are effective and give good feedback, not that I need to use them much.
What the X1/9 has in abundance is poise. Though it's not quite the 50/50 weight distribution you might imagine, the car feels beautifully balanced. The light rack-and-pinion steering, a blessing of the mid-engine design, is quick and direct through the thick-rimmed wheel, and I won't be the first to liken the X1/9 to a go-kart. The remarkably stiff body structure - the X1/9 is a monocoque design, and somewhat overbuilt - contributes to the good handling. Removing the targa panel and stowing it in the forward trunk, an easy job, does nothing to diminish the body's stiffness. The car gives off a modern vibe, thanks to that stiff structure and the suppleness of the fuel injection - it's like a Sixties British roadster that's been modernized.
For a complete Buyer's Guide on the Fiat/Bertone X1/9, check out the July 2012 issue of Hemmings Sports & Exotic Car, available on Hemmings.com.
Recent
Like the original, the Elan +2S featured a backbone frame and a fiberglass body. Though still compact by almost any definition of a car from the 1960s, the four-seater was bigger in every dimension. Lotus designers and engineers were tasked with creating a car that “must be capable of transporting two adults and two children 1,000 miles in comfort with their luggage.” The Plus 2’s 96-inch wheelbase was a foot longer than the original. And its overall length of 169 inches was a full two feet longer than the earlier car. Additionally, it measured 10 inches wider and two inches taller. The Plus 2 was still relatively small, itself measuring one foot shorter in both wheelbase and overall length compared to a 1965 Ford Mustang Hardtop.
Those plus-size dimensions greatly contributed to the comfort inside the car, but with road testers of the day still praising the car for maintaining the Elan’s adroit handling. Motor Sport magazine from the U.K. described the Plus 2’s steering as “incredibly light and precise.” In detail, they wrote, “The all-round independent suspension with its racing-like wishbone and link lay-out gives the car superb handling, of that there is no doubt. The glory of it is that you can whip along country lanes with their twists and turns without drama, in complete safety and not working hard while drivers in lesser vehicles struggle to keep up.”
Powertrain
The “big-valve” version of the 1,558-cc Lotus-designed/Ford-based twin-cam four-cylinder engine in the +2S 130 was rated at 126 horsepower and 113 lb-ft of torque, giving the car brisk acceleration, as it weighed a little over 2,000 pounds. A four-speed manual directed power to the rear wheels. Road testers of the +2S and +2S 130 models reported 0-60 mph times at right around, or even just under, eight seconds.
Technically, by 1972, there was no such model as the Elan +2S. Rather, Lotus dubbed the car the +2S 130, or alternatively the Plus 2 130. In either case, despite the obvious origins and former use of the name with the model, “Elan” was dropped from the moniker by that time. The Elan name did reappear the following year. Though Elan production ceased in 1973, the Elan +2 continued through 1974.
Restored Elan +2S 130
The notes on this 1972 Lotus Elan +2S 130 currently listed on Hemmings Auctions indicate that this Plus 2 has been restored, including a rebuild of its original engine and four-speed manual transmission, completed some 3,000 miles ago. The seller shared that the water, oil and fuel pumps were replaced, while the radiator was rebuilt. Additional fresh components are said to be the brake discs, updated Rotoflex drive couplings and wheel bearings, all as part of a chassis rebuild.
The seller reports that the fiberglass bodied was disassembled, repaired and professionally refinished before reassembly. The original brightwork was rechromed as necessary and the original glass reinstalled with new seals. Fresh Pirelli Cinturato rubber was mounted on refinished original Lotus 10-spoke alloy wheels. According to the Classic Lotus Elan Register, this +2S 130 is one of 1,879 +2S and +2S 130 models built out of a total production run of 5,139 Elan +2’s.
Take a look at this 1972 +2S 130 at Hemmings Auctions to see what a right-sized Lotus Elan looks like.
Photo: Provided By Author
I had been into cars since childhood, so this was a magical job. I was part of a crew of six or seven that worked for tips, and we wore orange coverall uniforms so that we were easily seen at night. We routinely parked and returned more than 400 cars on a busy Saturday, with parties in the afternoon and then again at night, together with public dining.
Jockeying cars for position in shrinking lanes during return rush times made me a better and more precise driver. Another benefit was that I developed a higher appreciation for well-designed dashboards, budding smart controls, and quality upholstery. I preferred gauges to warning lamps, and I intensely disliked the flashing green and yellow dashboard fuel economy indicators that seemed unwelcome in luxury cars. The only way to make the annoying indicator stay green was to coast.
As a crew, we elbowed each other to park the hot imports, such as BMW’s 2002, Datsun’s Z variants, the first Honda Accords, Toyota Celicas, and less frequently, Volkswagen Sciroccos. These were all well-equipped, light, quick, and easy to park. It was also possible to shift them into higher gears for test drives by taking the long way around to the lower back lot. As far as I knew, none of us ever got a Porsche 911 out of second. Our boss knew the joyride risk, so we had to keep numbered dashboard tickets in sequence for assigned spaces that discouraged long drives around the property.
Photo: Hemmings Archives
I have many fond memories of the job. To start, the things people left in their vehicles were nothing short of amazing. There were open bills with private information in plain view, and mail of every other conceivable variety, as well as checkbooks, laundry, arts, and crafts in all stages of non-completion, sticky food wrappers, and other trash. I also quickly learned that a tip amount didn’t always correspond to the expense or condition of the car after one guest left a caged guinea pig in his 1967 Pontiac Le Mans when he arrived late for a wedding reception. Aside from needing to be washed and vacuumed, that car was quite fragrant. It was a dry day, so I lowered the side windows, and we took turns checking the pet as we ran to and from other vehicles. Later, the guest told me he was glad the party was over and was eager to reunite the guinea pig with his young daughter. Having noticed us checking on the pet, the car owner gave me the biggest tip I ever got to fetch a car.
Another unusual thing happened while parking a 1975 Buick LeSabre sedan. Two people got out and went inside for dinner and as I got in immediately noticed the aroma of freshly baked bagels emanating from two gigantic bags that took most of the rear seat, nearly reaching the headliner. After parking the car, I was spooked by a low voice from the far-right of the back seat that asked, “Howee doin’?” I had not seen the slight fellow partially hidden by one of the tall bags, and all I could ask was if he intended to go inside. He said he didn’t want a fancy dinner, just a nap. He offered bagels to the entire crew, which were delicious, and stayed in the car and slept for two hours.
Rare cars would roll up on occasion, including one almost everyone guessed was a Maserati, though I recognized it as a Facel Vega. The exhaust growl of the Chrysler Hemi V-8 was positively rhapsodic, and the grand tourer had polished wood throughout its interior. We parked it in a special spot on an outer aisle near the front door and overheard customers speculate what it was while waiting for their own cars. When the tweedy owner eventually came out, my boss, Ray, was determined to sound smart and amuse himself. He conspicuously and formally signaled, “Christopher, the Facel Vega, please.” Seeing where we placed his pride and joy, the owner gleamed. He may have enjoyed that moment more than his dinner.
Another story involved a regular customer’s Cadillac Seville during lunch hour, when Ray often let me work alone so he could get a break. Two County Sheriff’s detectives stopped to tell me they were looking for two inmates who had escaped from the local penitentiary wearing–what else–orange coveralls. They were last seen running on the neighboring golf course. Of course, we always left keys in the ignition of parked cars. The detectives asked how many cars remained from lunch, and whether I could account for each. To my dismay, the Cadillac (one of only three cars left in my charge) was gone! The owner was very classy when the detectives needed his license plate number and unselfishly said he was glad I had not run into the thieves. Luckily for me, the car was recovered unscratched at a nearby shopping center, but we never heard if the thieves were caught.
I rarely drove a car onto the open road, but one exception was a permanent resident’s 1976 Rolls Royce Silver Shadow. The luminous dark red sedan was overdue for its annual state inspection and the owner’s wife “volunteered” me to drive it to the inspection station in the next town. The engine was so quiet and vibration-free that I had to concentrate to hear it. The interior was beautifully appointed with the finest leather I had ever seen or touched. Intuitive controls were set in burled walnut. In my opinion the steering wheel was somewhat primitive and too hard for an ultra-luxury auto, but it was a minor nitpick since the car was a magic carpet. It literally floated when put in drive. As expected, there were no buzzes, squeaks, or rattles. It handled well and predictably with adequate road feel, despite its considerable weight. Power came immediately at the slightest touch, suggesting ample reserve, and the Rolls-Royce stopped on a dime.
Photo: Hemmings Archives
Admittedly, I was very nervous driving it, even when it seemed other drivers stayed out of the way once I reached a multi-lane avenue. The inspection station was in a not-so-nice area on a narrow, bumpy street, and being near closing time the station was busy. I had to get in a line that snaked around the block and all I could do was hope nobody hit the darn thing.
As I crawled to the entrance, the inspection staff was laughing and pointing at me, still wearing my orange coveralls: “Hey kid, how did you get out of jail and where did you get that car?” Fortunately, my uniform sported a company crest. Seeking mercy, I said it was the boss’ car. Then the Rolls failed its emissions test. Adding to the insult, the dented, oxidized Volkswagen Beetle behind me passed with flying colors. In those days, a sticker with a big red circle signifying failure was affixed to the windshield’s lower left corner. You couldn’t miss it.
I finally relaxed when I pulled the Silver Shadow into the familiar driveway without incident. To my surprise, the owner’s wife was happy to see that the car failed, because now she could get it tuned up without further debate. Apparently, her husband was always working and neglected his cars. We were reminded of that later when we had to jump the battery in his seldom-driven Jaguar XJ12. The next time I saw the Rolls it had a proper inspection sticker.
After parking cars for eighteen months, I transferred inside to become a bartender as my college days progressed. I missed handling the cars, but not enduring cold winter nights or donning those orange coveralls. Over the years I have almost always insisted on parking my own car, but when valet parking is unavoidable, particularly in a city, I tip in advance. It’s remarkable how a few dollars will often gain a spot close to the attendant’s booth, sometimes with a safety cone next to our car.
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