The grass was greener
The light was brighter— Pink Floyd.
The sacred automotive war of old vs. new is far too complex and multifaceted to be fully unpacked in a few sentences and pictures. So I’ll limit myself to one topic that’s especially sensitive for any car enthusiast: exterior design. The dichotomy between a “real body” and a bar of soap is so strong that it’s hard not to get personal in live conversations. I’ll try to argue my position (old stuff is power, new stuff is crap) while staying within the bounds of academic decency.
We’ll leave semi-technical debates about “million-kilometer engines” versus “e-garbage,” micron-thick paint to save dolphins, marketing conspiracies, and other fascinating topics for another round.
Let me make a disclaimer upfront. I don’t really hold a grudge against car manufacturers. Most deviations in automotive design genetics were caused by external forces. In particular, new pedestrian safety regulations turned sharp, classic bodies into something resembling a frog being inflated through a straw inserted into its anus — purely for hooligan reasons.
Speaking of frogs: so-called pop-up headlights (often opened by a separate button, how cool is that?) also sank into oblivion under the pretext of pedestrian safety during collisions. Add to that thin pillars and excessively tall doors with slit-like windows thanks to which you can no longer comfortably rest your elbow out of a BMW.
Enough teasing owners of cars still under warranty. Let’s get to the point.
Watch closely.
Chevrolet Camaro: 1969 and 2016. Here and below: old on the left, new on the right.
Dodge Charger, same years.
Ford Mustang: 1967 and almost 50 years later.
See the trick? Exactly. I picked textbook examples: the holy trinity of American muscle cars. The catch is that these cars are icons. And despite their flaws, it’s nearly impossible to make them “better.” At least from the perspective of a car enthusiast who already has a mustache growing in. Let me remind you: we’re still talking strictly about design. And let’s not argue. If your nephew likes the new Charger more, it’s only because there’s one exactly like it )but with yellow stripes) in his favorite video game.
What if we lower the bar a little?
Nissan Fairlady Z. Datsun 240Z (S30), Nissan 280Z, later bloated into the 350Z/370Z. For me, this is one of the clearest examples of everything modern car design has been through. Yes, I know about the 370Z’s weight distribution — but look again at the thoughtful silhouette this all started from. You can defend the modern six-cylinder while wiping offended tears with your sleeve, but no matter how hard you stare at the old body, you won’t find compromise lines. In 1976, that simply wasn’t possible.
Skyline GT-R R32 and the modern GT-R. Another Nissan. Another icon. The “Skyline” every kid dreamed of (though for most it remained on a Turbo chewing gum wrapper). If the first version was proudly dubbed Godzilla, the current one might deserve that name only in a negative sense, without diminishing the engineering brilliance of today’s GT-R.
Jaguar XJ 1970 / 2016. Simple enough, though you could still throw fists defending the fairly decent silhouette of the modern versions.
BMW 6 Series Coupé. Same story. You can support the modern Six while wiping your nose in frustration — but in the old body, no matter how hard you look, you won’t find compromise strokes. In 1976, it couldn’t exist. You couldn’t say: “Hans, marketing approved a crease under the molding — talk to the product owner.” That kind of suggestion could easily earn you a caliper to the face. Or maybe not. Either way, you’re obligated to read the history of the E24 by Gemballa and stop asking unnecessary questions about how cool that car is.
Fine, you say. We’ve looked at a few iconic sports coupes. But what about civilian cars? Can the author keep feeding us nonsense? Was there “time” back then, but now my third-generation Octavia (winner of the 2015 design award) is just a crap?
Let’s figure it out.
Honda Accord, beloved in Japan and Europe alike. Reliable as the universe, as Jeremy Clarkson once said. 945 kilograms of design in the first generation in 1976, and 1,448 kilograms of pot-bellied luxury in the ninth generation in 2012.
Lancia Delta 1979 / 2010. No need to linger here. Once the legendary rally successes of the Delta HF Integrale were forgotten, a tear of sorrow welled up for Lancia as a brand. Though to be fair, the Lancia Hyena, drawn in 1990 by an Italian named Pedrazzini, is a proper tribute to the Integrale.
Mercedes SL 1999 / 2015. Mercedes-Benz isn’t my cup of tea, but as a fan of straight lines, I’d still cast my vote for the old one.
Mitsubishi Eclipse 1989 / 2012. First and last generations of a discontinued model. By the way, this isn’t the only time an automaker ignored gambling’s golden rule: quit while you’re ahead.
Mitsubishi Galant 1969 / 2012. Some caveats are needed here — but I won’t make them. Why bother?
Mini Cooper 1959 / 2016. Simple. A Mini is a Mini “like Mr. Bean’s.” Everything else is not mini. Literally. Roughly 650 kilograms in 1959 turns into 1,250 in 2013. And just when success blinds the factory, it releases a four-door version…
It’s fair to admit that the modern Cooper belongs to the category of remakes that “have something.” But in direct comparison, you realize it’s mostly air inside the cabin.
Next comes the people’s brand Volkswagen — sacred to any Belarusian. So the photos are left without commentary.
Golf GTI: first and seventh generations.
Volkswagen Scirocco 1974/2008.
Volkswagen Transporter: first and last generations.
I won’t claim categorically that all old designs were made with intelligence and all new ones are crap on a stick in a glass jar.
That’s how it is.
Time for a digression. First, the sample is small. Why? Because most cars never were, aren’t, and never will be “beautiful.” Their design solves other problems. Second, I deliberately avoided the cyclical nature of design and those models whose newer generations are subjectively better — though they’re in the minority.
On the bright side, we’ve recently seen more remakes, tributes, and other attempts to restore former automotive design glory.
A successful adaptation example: Chevrolet Corvette Stingray 1969. Redesigning one of the most iconic coupes of the past is no easy task. That must be understood. There will always be retrograde whiners like the author of this piece who’ll find something to nitpick. But you still have to try. Try to do it well — without negotiations and compromises.
So what’s the conclusion? There is none. Only material for thought. I won’t insist that every old design was brilliant and every new one is garbage in a jar. But my hypothesis remains unchanged: in the past, demand for good automotive design was higher, and the opportunities were greater.