Rare cruisers from the days of Depeche Mode
Ah, the barge: not a type of boat in this case, but rather a big saloon car with some semblance of luxury – usually designed with an executive in mind and at its best with a V6 or V8 under the hood.
For every big car that stood the test of time, though, many more were lost on the motorways of history.
In no decade was that more true than the ’80s: with a second fuel crisis in full swing, thirsty saloons lost their appeal and the market for hefty machines tanked.
As a result, many big tin-tops of the era are today little more than footnotes in automotive history. We think that’s a shame – so here we remember six of them.
1. Alfa 6
First up in this jaunt down saloon memory lane is a near-mythical beast of the barge world – one of those cars that just makes you ask yourself: “why?”
Designed in the late ’60s to launch in the ’70s, the Alfa 6 was pushed back by the plucky Alfetta, eventually launching in 1979 – by which point the world was engulfed in an oil crisis and the Italian four-door’s formal, angular styling looked painfully dated.
Alfa 6 (cont.)
Thankfully, the Alfa marketing department had a priceless excuse for the way its new saloon looked: it wanted to build a car that didn’t attract too much attention from the kidnappers, terrorists and assorted bandits that were residing in Italy at the time.
Unfortunately, it didn’t attract much attention from, well, anyone – least of all potential UK buyers: only 134 were imported before the model was culled in 1986.
Alfa 6 (cont.)
Remarkably, though, the 6 today makes for a much better classic than it ever did a serious executive saloon: the wonderful engine sounds much stronger than its 156bhp has any right to, and is also marvellously refined.
It also rides with most of the alacrity of the agile Alfetta, while the power steering is BMW-like in its swift and clean responses. For an obscure Italian car of the ’80s, it’s definitely aged well.
2. Ford Granada 2.8i Ghia
From obscurity to the everyday: the Granada was a big sales success, succeeding where other barges failed – not because it offered any blinding technical revelations or insights, but because it was properly engineered and Ford had done its market research.
From 2-litre poverty models, via 2.3-litre and 2.8-litre V6 variants, to the plush-but-pokey 2.8i Ghia, the second-generation Granada range was finely tuned to suit the ’80s paying public.
Ford Granada 2.8i Ghia (cont.)
There was no awkward overlap anywhere: each entry in the line-up offered a clear step up in price, trim and performance – something which can’t be said of many ranges in the ’80s.
What’s more, Uwe Bansen’s crisp, three-box shape – launched in 1977 – remained appealing throughout the decade and, indeed, has aged well today.
Ford Granada 2.8i Ghia (cont.)
While the Granada is now regarded as a kind of blue-collar classic, spool back 30 years and the Mk2 Ghia was a seriously swish and sophisticated machine.
Made in Germany, it was immune from the unreliability woes affecting its British contemporaries – this was a competent, eminently drivable saloon.
Nor did any excuses have to be made for its finish: its goodies, which included powered, tinted windows, tilt-and-slide sunroof, headlamp washers and remote-control door mirrors, gave it instant executive appeal.
3. Toyota Crown Super Saloon
If the Granada was a sturdy European with an option for everyone, the Toyota Crown was a mid-Pacific oddity that never quite found its niche.
In fact, most continental buyers probably rejected the Japanese saloon because of its looks, rather than how it drove – and that was their loss.
Toyota Crown Super Saloon (cont.)
Although descended from a long line of wobbly and ornate saloons built for conservative Japanese business people, this seventh-generation version – with its fuel-injected, straight-six engine and four-speed automatic transmission – was a much better car than it appeared.
Then again, that’s not saying much. The Crown was the product of an entirely distinct cultural design language and Toyota either hadn’t grasped what it took to woo Western big-car buyers or was simply more interested in keeping its enthusiastic home market happy.
Toyota Crown Super Saloon (cont.)
Sit inside one today and you’ll find an interior that’s a cheese-fest of unappealing synthetic materials, styled with maximum fuss in a way that only the Japanese could – yet look beyond the chintz and you’ll find all kinds of conveniences as standard (air-conditioning; a coolbox in the rear parcel shelf) that were rare in the early ’80s.
The Crown was also unique in its focus on rear-seat passengers, giving them radio and A/C controls of their own. Perhaps it was the perfect car for the penny-pinching tycoon after all?
4. Rover 3500 Vanden Plas
Next, a sorry reminder of Leyland’s malign influence over the once noble house of Rover: for all the promise the SD1 showed at launch, less than a decade later it was derided as a joke, its reputation in tatters thanks to abysmal quality and reliability.
Launched in an attempt to save the name, Rover went back to basics with the new model, building a saloon along simple lines but refining the details.
Rover 3500 Vanden Plas (cont.)
Unfortunately, the notion that it would be easier to service didn’t account for the camshaft-snapping, gasket-popping frailties of the 2.3-litre and 2.6-litre variants.
And that’s a shame, because it cut a striking figure on British roads (with its chisel nose and hatchback rear), while in punchy 3500 V8 guise its shell proved relatively aerodynamic – something used to great effect when it went racing as a touring car.
Rover 3500 Vanden Plas (cont.)
Even better, the Vanden Plas variant – launched to allay reliability fears – was a would-be executive saloon equipped with full-leather interior, alloy wheels and a powered sunroof. Plush.
In truth, for the price, it was as good as anything in its class: blighted by the reputation of its siblings, on the road the 3500 was stable, swift and firmly resistant to body roll – not to mention a consummate cruiser. Which only makes its fate more shameful.
5. Peugeot 604 STI
A belated return to the big-car fray, the 604 wasn’t Peugeot’s first mid-range motor: the French marque already had a reputation for making some of the world’s best-riding saloons, and that trend would continue with its late-’70s/early-’80s barge.
Styled by Pininfarina, the tin-top only enhanced the firm’s reputation for making conservative but refined machinery – even if the shape didn’t grab everyone.
Peugeot 604 STI (cont.)
With its quietly elegant profile, appealing chunky tail and large, square doors, it was a shoe-in for ministerial duties – and it took over from the Citroën DS as the de facto French government car.
Offering just enough of everything to satisfy without being particularly astonishing, the V6 motor lacked the muscle of the Rover or the exotic appeal of the Alfa, yet was more impressive than the thrashy Granada’s V6 or the characterless Toyota engine.
Peugeot 604 STI (cont.)
Head for a corner and the 604 rolls rather a lot – but such is the pay-off for the Peugeot’s pièce de résistance: its ride. Even by the time the marque killed off the 604 in the mid-’80s, it still offered a level of sophistication – in terms of civilisation and comfort – that was beyond anything in its class.
Only the Jaguar XJ outshone its ability to deal with all kinds of roads and, even today it’s hard to think of a big, modern car that rides with such a light touch. Truly the mark of a brilliant barge.
6. Talbot Tagora GL
Finally, a saloon so forgotten you’ll struggle to find one on the road today: too far into development to be cancelled when Peugeot took over Chrysler Europe in 1979, the Tagora became the first model launched under the new PSA regime.
Unfortunately, with a shape penned in 1976, the Tagora was outdated before it even left the factory. Production didn’t begin until 1980 and it was all over by 1983, with just 23,400 built.
Talbot Tagora GL (cont.)
It wasn’t that this French barge was a bad car, just that it was pointless – offering nothing new over the competition and little in the way of on-the-road excitement.
Quick in V6 SX form, the more common 2.2-litre motor was hesitant, with no sense of enthusiasm – a waste, given the supple, sophisticated chassis – while the cabin, though airy, was an austere and brittle place to be.
Talbot Tagora GL (cont.)
Ironically for a barge born into a world that didn’t car, the Tagora is now one of the rarest saloons on UK roads, its ranks thinned by rust, banger racing and apathy towards the Talbot brand – making survivors a rare sight indeed.
In 2015, there was just one Tagora GL on the road. Today? None are registered.