‘World’s Worst Cars’ Book Redemption: Maserati Biturbo – The Autopian

It’s time again to have an archaic Commodore PET computer pick a random page from the 2005 book, The World’s Worst Cars, written by Craig Cheetham, and then defend and redeem the car shown on that page, because I maintain that Mr.Cheetham has created a book not of The World’s Worst Cars, as the title claims, but rather of some of the World’s More Interesting Cars. Most of the cars in this book – perhaps all – do not deserve to be trapped in between the covers of this deceitful tome. And I’m going to redeem them, one by one. So let’s go.

Let’s start like we always do, by keying in this simple BASIC program to pick a random number between 1 and 317, the number of pages in the book. And yes, while I did copy and paste this intro, I may as well note that I’m actually out tomorrow, so there won’t be a Friday edition of World’s Worst Cars Book Redemption, which I hope is okay with everyone.

But we still have today’s! So let’s see what page Mr.Pet wants us to look at!

Page 287. Let’s see what treasures lay on page 287!

The Maserati Biturbo!

Oh, by the way, you may notice I’m not showing the entire two-page spread, like before. That’s because our publisher Matt brought up a very salient point about how, were I to keep this up for some significant portion of this book, I would be effectively re-publishing the book right here on our site, which is, um, wrong. So, in the interests of not getting the ire (and lawyers) of Mr.Cheetham and this publisher all worked up, we’ll just include a little portion of the page from here on out. I should go back and crop down those other pages now that I think about it, too.

But! Back to the Biturbo! When I first saw this choice, I was a bit more sympathetic than normal; these things do have a reputation for being huge ass-pains and always breaking. But, remember, this is a book of worst cars in the world. The Biturbo was also the first production car with twin turbos, and, more importantly, it was Maserati’s first real attempt to make something even close to a mass-market car, and while it wasn’t entirely successful, it defined a path that so many exotic carmakers rely on today to stay in business: have something that’s more accessible (think all those Porsche and Lambo and, yes, Maserati SUVs) so money can be made, and supercars can be built.

Alejandro DeTomaso bought Maserati in 1976, and was determined to make something regular-rich people could afford instead of crazy-rich people, and he succeeded, if you look at the numbers. Think about this: when DeTomaso bought Maserati in 1975, that year the company had built 201 cars. You know how many Biturbos were sold? 40,000. I think he accomplished what he set out to do.

Plus, even if Craig Cheetham thinks the design looks boring – and it is a fairly understated design for Maserati – it’s undeniably handsome, I think. Compared to other executive car/sports coupés like the Mercedes-Benz 190E or a BMW E30, it’s downright striking-looking.

And that engine! Twin turbos in 1981! These were 90° V6s ranging from two to 2.8-liters in size, and making between 185 and 225 horsepower, depending on year and if it was carbureted or fuel-injected, and so on. These were quick cars, going from 0-60 in 6.7 seconds! Hell, a Maserati Merak from around the same time took 7.8 seconds to do that, and everyone thinks that’s a genuine exotic sportscar. The Biturbo was faster, more practical, and cheaper!

Plus, look at these interiors:

The Biturbo had genuinely amazing interiors, opulent seas of leather and wood and craftsmanship, down to one of the most ostentatiously and gloriously scrotal shift boots known to human culture. Those seats, too! They’re incredible!

Did they break down? Was the reliability garbage? Yes, of course it was! But was it worse than any other Italian sports car with a badge with a horse or bull or snakes eating people or whatever? No. There were just more Biturbos around for people to encounter. But they really weren’t any worse than any other member of their particular finicky breed.

I don’t think a car that looks and sounds and feels like this really deserves to be in a “worst cars” book:

Sure, it’s probably a money pit, but it does deliver on the character and drama and thrill and soul aspects of a car, which are incredibly important; these aren’t hot water heaters, after all, they’re irrational, emotional machines.

I mean, look at this engine:

Even before I imagine what a bill may be like to get it to stop doing whatever it shouldn’t be doing or start doing the things it should, I get a little weak in the knees. It’s a beautiful machine.

Modern Maserati wouldn’t exist without the Biturbo, no matter what horror stories you think you heard from your dad’s friend’s dentist’s ex-squash partner’s older brother. These put Maserati on a path to actually staying around (you know, roughly) and are compelling cars, period.

So, I say, grab that book and yank out page 287. The Biturbo is going bye.

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