I'll admit, I'm not the biggest fan of Volkswagens, in an exercise of understatement and slowly easing readers into a review, which Esther the editor insists to me is important for some reason. You can imagine then, that I wasn't super thrilled to be told in the one-liner text message I got this week to go to Flat 4 Garage in Meguro, Toukyo, THE place in Japan to go for all your antique, air cooled, rear mounted Flat 4 Volkswagen needs. I was to be there on even shorter notice than usual to meet with and pick up both the car and Esther the editor. Oh, and just to spice things up, the message didn't mention what the car was, either.
Things always gotta be mysterious and dramatic in COTW, doesn't it? Then again, I really don't think words were designed to describe the sheer, unadulterated, appalling atrocity that at best vaguely describes this week's car.
"So... what the hell is this?", I ask, dumbfounded and aghast when I first laid eyes on the rancid lump of rusting metal before me, hoping Esther could tell me more about the car and its sorry condition, having arrived before me.
"This is a first generation Volkswagen Golf, more commonly known as the 'Mark I'. This car is of significant historical value as it marked a turning point where Volkswagen shifted their main vehicle lines from air cooled, rear engine, rear drive layouts, to water cooled, front engine, front drive layouts. Intended as a replacement for the Beetle, the Golf similarly enjoyed tremendous success in the market, thanks to its combination of packaging, pricing, and, in the case of this GTI model as well, performance. An icon now in its own right for its ubiquity, this car is very much a 'People's Car' - true to the name of Volkswagen."
Esther lecture slowed for a bit with uncertainty as she realised I wasn't easing up with my stare and scowl. "Is this a test?", she asks. "This is the third best selling car model in the history of the automobile... surely you know more about it...?"
"No, this is a shit car."
"How can you say that without having driven it?"
"How can I not say that after seeing THIS?!"
"Yes, well, it has quite the personalised flair..."
"Quite?! I think this 'people's car' has had way too much 'people' in it."
"Now, come on, Lee. I'd say you've been very lucky as far as car allocation goes in COTW. You've seen the rusted out cars found abandoned in barns others have had to drive against you. Please be an adult about this."
Against such adult logic dispensed to me by someone who looked way younger than I, all I could do was roll my eyes so far back, they might've done a full 360, and then some.
"Besides, this car is courtesy of an ardent fan of COTW reviews. They even have all these COTW stickers on the car, which you yourself hardly even use, if I'm to be completely fair here."
"That's because the cars I've been handed up to this point hadn't needed stickers to hold the bumpers together! We review the cars factory fresh, completely unmodified! How am I to offer a valid opinion on a car if it's in THIS state?!"
"Which is why you're picking up the car here instead of the car being delivered to you as usual." I detect a bit of a bite in her last statement, despite her objective word choice and completely flat tone. Something about this woman simply refuses to be written down. "Our mechanics have been hard at work all night long installing factory original parts on site, sourced at the last minute. We didn't have the time for the exterior... and really, the conversion cost combined would've surpassed the value of a new car entirely."
"So this is a shit car."
"This is a historic car, I'm told. It seemed like a real bargain; it costs way less than the historic cars we've raced... you know..."
I sigh. "I don't get the appeal. Any way you look at it, it's just a clapped out, old ass hatch."
In a reversal of the usual roles, Esther then goes on to tell me more about the car: how this first gen Golf alone sold more than a million units in its nine year production run, and how this car is widely considered to be the first "hot hatch", while we waited for the scurrying mechanics to put on the last of finishing touches in trying to revert this grandma car back into a virgin beneath the skin. Given its historical significance and how common they are, and in turn, what kids tend to do with them, I'm not sure if it belongs more in a scrapyard rusting and rotting, or polished to a showroom sheen on display in a museum. And it, mind bogglingly, seems like it would be right at home in either scenario.
Despite being a road going car (in theory), I'm told the owner of this car expressly forbade us to drive it on public roads in Japan. That might explain the lack of a Japanese plate conversion, but I suspect there were more reasons than that for the car not being legally allowed to be on public roads. Nonetheless, the Golf was loaded up onto a truck to be ferried over to Tsukuba Circuit for the first race of the week. As a result of the people's car not being able to ferry people, poor Esther and I have had to resort to another hatchback to get us there: my Amemiya FD that I drove here to Flat 4 Garage. Missing out on the historic holiness of the Golf for the two hour drive through the heart of Toukyo, we've had to make do with modern atrocities such as having air con, airbags, power steering, ABS, a locking differential, a speedo that actually read below 20km/h, and having to use all four wheels instead of just two. Urgh.
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A lot of people criticise the FD for being a claustrophobic car, and I agree. Compared to the FD however, the Mark I Golf was so tiny, it felt less like squeezing into a rabbit hole and more like putting on a jacket; you don't get into a Golf as much as you wear it. And just like putting on a jacket, you'll hardly see it once you wear it, giving a very natural and shockingly intuitive feel to be in the driver seat, with a commanding view of all that surrounds you. The car does such a good job of disappearing around you that it really did sometimes feel to me like everything on the road I saw before me, I could walk over and reach my hand out to grab, instead of operating a machine to drive over and then get out to touch.
Once the lights went green, everything got even better, and I forgot all about the looks of my car. I've always loved racing small, slow cars, because they promote the closest, most mega racing that would put to shame modern F1. Unlike the nonsensical hot hatches of today, the Golf doesn't destroy the driving experience with a twenty mile wheelbase, rack twisting torque steer, and understeering into the next country every corner exit, trying to prove a frankly stupid point. Rather, the charm of the GTI lies in the single most important ingredient in a sports car: simplicity, and in turn, lightness. Because the Mark I GTI lacked everything I pointed out on my way here to Tsukuba, it weighs in at only 890kg (1,962lbs). That's lighter than a NA Mazda Roadster while offering a whole row of rear seats, to give some context.
For as much as I bemoaned the lack of features in the Golf on public roads, that might end up being more praise than criticism on the track, as the Golf immediately wins drivers over with the sheer simplicity and ease of driving the moment they turn the wheel for a corner. True, there are no differentials, no ABS, no nothing at all to help you around a corner, but it is precisely because of the lack of these technological features that I find defines the charm and driving experience of the car: everything is barebones, dead simple, and as a result of that, not only do you feel everything in the car, but you and only you alone are in control. There aren't twenty million drive modes to choose from. There is no complication, nothing to think about. You get in it, belt up, turn the ignition, and drive. Launching it? Just drop the clutch and hammer the throttle pedal down as hard as you can. Watch and hear the wheels spin a little bit, and you're off. No traction control, no modulating clutch and gas, just... get in and go. Approaching a corner? You brake, you let off the brake, you turn the wheel, and you give it gas. There is no drama. There are no surprises. And unlike most raw, hardcore cars without aids like Vipers, Yellowbirds, and TVRs, there is truly nothing intimidating about the Golf, making it an easily accessible entry point to learn how to drive without all the modern electrical and mechanical bells and whistles. Every parameter of the dynamics of the car is within expectations. You drive it like a car, and it goes like a car, bells and whistles be damned.
And, you know what? The Golf might lack ABS, locking diffs, and all that. But that's because it really doesn't need any of that crap to keep itself in check, unlike modern hot hatches that try to cram 300 horses through the front wheels. Because a literal golf ball travels faster than this car, and because the front disc brakes are weak as hell as well, the lack of ABS really doesn't detract from dry driving at all, even with pedestrian Comfort Medium tyres. You can pretty much stand on the brake pedal and the tyres won't even complain - heck, you can still turn the car a bit even with full braking on Comfort Medium tyres, to give you an idea of how lazy the brakes on this thing are. I kid you not when I say that the only place where I've managed to get the tyres to even squeal under braking is down the tricky downhill off neutral braking zones of Bathurst, and even then, the tyres just complained; never locked. Thankfully, because the car is so lightweight, the brakes are perfectly adequate for the speed the car does, never once leaving you feeling wanting for more.
Oh, and of course, in the wet, the wheels WILL lock if you just stomped on them. There, now you can't sue me. Surprised what needs to be explicitly spelled out nowadays... sheesh.
Oh, and the open differential? Almost inconsequential as well, due to it's modest power output. You'll only notice the lack of a locking differential if you pull the car off centre on full throttle suddenly, which causes the soft car to lean laterally. You'll then notice the engine revs subtly rise, but like a passing fart in the wind, it passes so quickly, it's not worth much thought. You simply don't need a differential with only 111PS and FWD, and driving the Mark I in 2020 makes one seriously rethink what a car needs and ought to have, even if I know perfectly well that we can never have a car as simple as this again.
Truly, the single most attention grabbing and complicated thing on this car is perhaps its golf ball shaped shift knob, which lets you play with five forward cogs (and one reverse) in this car. That's right: this peasant 111PS hatchback actually has more forward gears than a top of the line, turbo 911 of its era. Let that sink in for a minute.
There's are two design philosophies in video games that are pivotal to create addicting and satisfying gameplay, that still serve as a backbone to video games today. They are, "easy to pick up, difficult to master", and "the better you do, the harder it gets." Just like a video game in the eighties like Contra, the Golf is easy to learn the basics of. And really, the basics are all you'll need to do amazing things with it. Try to get better at them, however, and that's when the fun truly begins.
Get it wrong, and the car will duly bite, like a great teacher should. At speeds so low, it's unlikely to be anything that won't buff out. Because of the car's light weight, it never feels uncooperative or unable to do what you're asking of it. Rather, it's the finer things, like the suspension, the tyres, the throttle control - all wonderfully communicative things that are in your control and yours alone - that will make or break any given corner. Suddenly, all the farts in the wind become important. Suddenly, you need to be smooth with your inputs to prevent the open diff wasting power. Stomp on the brakes while the car is too off neutral, overcook a corner just a tad bit too much, and there is no power to help mask your mistake, and no rear wheel drive to help rotate the rear end out. And with only 111PS to get you to the next corner, you will be feeling that mistake for a long, long time.
Get it right, however, and it will truly feel as gratifying as learning how to tap dance on a tightrope. Just like a good video game, the Golf is its own reward for mastering it: it is INSTANTLY and INSANELY gratifying, leaving you wanting more and more of that same euphoria. Whether intentionally or otherwise, the Golf is an excellent, excellent teacher, due to its price, simplicity, and non intimidating nature. It will bite, but not debilitatingly so, at every mistake you make. And it will reward you in spades for getting it right, moreso than most other "sports" cars today. A lot of people claim that karting a great way to learn race driving - I disagree. You want to learn how to make a car go fast, buy a Golf Mark I. This has suspension, this has air in its tyres, this has gears. Most karts don't. And you won't learn how to maintain and take care of a car with a kart, would you? The Golf is not only an absurdly good teacher on track, but it is a good mentor in real life as well, I suspect. The road worthiness, extra seats, and trunk space are also nice bonuses.
Out of curiosity, I wanted to see how the "original hot hatch" fares against a modern "room temperature hatchback". Of course, when I wondered this, I hadn't yet been aware that several years ago in COTW, a Mark I GTI completely destroyed a Mark IV GTI somewhere in an American desert. Union Jacks, teeth punching, and aliens may or may not have been involved. Unbeknownst to this sorcery at the time, I indulged in my fleeting naïveté and innocence, and rented a fourth gen for myself, unwittingly poised to repeat a cursed cycle of events, as though I had just found myself the protagonist of an oddly motorsport oriented horror story. I rented myself... a Demio.
...Diesel.
Challenging VW to a race in a diesel? Not the brightest idea I've had.
Of course, the first race I did in the Demio, I was sandwiched between a comparatively inexperienced driver beside me who wouldn't back out, and Vic bump drafting me from behind ensuring I couldn't back out, either... on the entry to Dragon Trail Seaside's Chicane of Death... in reverse.
Anyway, on paper, the modern Demio loses out significantly: it has seven less ponies than the Mark I, and the pony deficiency has to cope with a whopping 190kg more. The diesel engine in the Demio needs to be short shifted, which puts it at an immediate disadvantage to the petrol engine making all its power up top in the Golf. Truly, the only advantage I had for certain was that I had insurance covering the Demio, I had a pop up HUD displaying my speed, sat nav so I know where the track is, had better fuel economy so I had to pit less over the 4 lap race, and I have one more forward overdrive gear. If I were being optimistic, I could hope that a few of the horses in the Golf has gotten sick of the fake grass in the golf course and wandered elsewhere (can you tell I've no writing talent from my analogies?) (Editor's note: we didn't need your analogies.)
So, could a more modern, more practical, insurance covered, sensible small hatch you can actually buy (or rent from Times Car Rental) keep up with a near 40 year old grandma of a car? Has age made the Mark I completely irrelevant today?
Almost, actually.
In Jeremy Clarkson's voice: TONIGHT, two grey hatchbacks drive closely to each other...
Vic wins nearly every race...
and aliens in an American desert!
Despite the gigantic difference on the spec sheets, the Demio only loses out slightly to the Mark Is on the straights, thanks no doubt to its one extra forward gear, and heaps of torque from the SkyActiv-D diesel. You can make up most of it in the corners, because while the Golf is a strict test of driving skill, requiring its driver to baby it around a corner to extract the best from it, you can (and have to) rag on the more modern car around every corner to keep up with the Golf. You have to be more aggressive and sharper with all your inputs - stomp on the brakes, pull hard on the steering wheel, toss the car with reckless abandon into a corner and trust that the car will cling. The better composed suspension setup enables the driver to be much rougher with the car, though I find that it isn't nearly as communicative as the one in the Golf, nor do I find it to be as good a teaching tool. But, because it more tightly controls the body movements, it makes better use of the uprated Sports tyres we were running for the race, which is where I think the time difference comes from. On more appropriate Comfort tyres... I'm not so sure if the Demio can keep up.
I once said I would rather spend two hours in a Demio than five minutes in a LaFerrari. That's how much I love the Demio and the driving experience it provides. Hopping out of the Mark I and directly into the Demio however, I'm flabbergasted by how numb and insulated the whole driving experience is in the modern car. The Demio hadn't half the fidelity, half the sense of occasion, from every avenue of communication a car is capable of, be it tyre noises, pitching, rolling, engine noises, throttle response, steering feel... as surprised and flabbergasted as I am to say this... the Demio isn't half the driver's car of the Mark I. I'm not sure if you noticed, but I'm kinda a Mazda fanboy by the way.
At the end of our weekly excursion, I do have to admit I've been quite impressed by a Mark I GTI. But in the few days it has taken me to write up to this point, I'm still quite torn on whether I like it or not, and whether I would recommend it to anyone.
Again, I'll lay my biases out on the table: I'm not very drawn to Volkswagens. Yet, the Mark I GTI was genuinely impressive - surprisingly so. I've praised the car for its lightness, for the raw experience it can provide. The excellent visibility out the cockpit. The noises. The softness. The simplicity, the accessibility, its non intimidating factor, and the precision it trains you for by demanding at all times. But that to me sounds like praising the whiteness of rice... they ALL do that. All cars of its era share those same traits. Sure, I'm told it's stiffer than a standard Golf. I'm told it has more power. But it's hard to really feel that extra stiffness and power without the context of being in the seventies and eighties, because today, it just feels... basic. Soft. Powerless. Indistinct. And just like white rice, there isn't really inherently anything wrong or bad with it. In fact, entire nations depend on it. It's just... on its own, it's so hopelessly bland, it's nigh intolerable. And that perhaps is why this car's owner had to do what they did to it.
I'll admit, a big part of the reason why my heart isn't so swayed by the Mark I is that, by 1983, you already have way better options than the Golf. For 5K USD less when brand new in the eighties, you could've had more power. You could've had the same practicality. You could've had a more iconic engine that redlines WAY higher. You could've had the same five speed stick. You could've had a car that was stiffer sprung, more well put together in the twisties, without sacrificing ride quality. You could've lapped Bathurst a whole FIVE SECONDS faster. You could've had a perfect 50:50 weight distribution. You could've had rear wheel drive.
For 5k USD less in 1983, you could've bought an AE86.
If the Mark I is a great teacher in grade school, then the 86 is like a lecturer in college, offering you way more depth in coverage with the same fidelity in the little details. The 86 will put the same emphasis on driving smoothly. It will even teach you about weight transfer, balancing the car, and how to induce, hold, adjust, and retrieve a slide - something the FF Golf couldn't. It will excite and enthrall you like nothing else on the road, even today. If the Golf handles like a go-kart, the 86 is telepathic by comparison. It's stiffer sprung, it's more composed and better put together in the corners, and it will encourage you to play and make you feel like a superhero in seven seconds more than the Golf would in seven generations. It will utterly destrolish any lap time set by a Mark I around any track. Hell, the 86 out accelerates the Mark I in a straight line! When has that ever happened? An 86 outrunning someone in the straights is the automotive equivalent of the sun eclipsing the moon! And if all that isn't convincing enough an argument, the Trueno 86 has pop up headlights.
I get that, in 1983, it would make more sense to compare a Mark II to the 86, but I honestly can't forsee myself preferring any FF Golf over the 86. And in modern times, I'd like my hatchback to actually have five doors, air con, warranty, ABS, and parts readily available. And have wheels that don't require special tools to remove. And don't require Hazmat suits to drive. And have gearboxes that don't explode after 5 centimetres on the odometer. Truly, a modern Golf sounds to me as much of a maintenance nightmare as people think my FD RX-7 is.
I just don't see the point of a Mark I, or any Golf, in any time period after the seventies, is what I'm trying to get at. I can only recommend the Mark I if you own a race driving school. For anyone else, I opine that there are better packages as a whole out there than the Golf.
It therefore earns my first Neutral verdict.
Side note: My first attempt at a German plate. There MIGHT have been a detail or two wrong about it ;)
