Tested: 1982 Maserati Quattroporte

From the August 1982 Issue.

You can’t keep your cool when you’re at the wheel of a Maserati Quattroporte. This big grin comes over you. Or maybe it’s a leer. Anyway, you head directly for Rodeo Drive just to see the shock of recognition ripple through the crowd clustered around Bijan’s. You’re driving a Maserati, boy. It’s kind of like hanging out with a model who’s appeared in the Italian edition of Vogue. You can wear jeans, yell at your friends on the sidewalk, and act rowdy, but you’ll still be the envy of everyone around you. Fine goods from Italy do the trick every time.

Maserati Quattroporte Is Not Special Enough

Tested: 2008 Maserati Quattroporte Automatica

Driven: All-New 2014 Maserati Quattroporte

Of course, the Quattroporte is actually a serious car. Really it is. It’s a luxury four-door sedan, and even Sergio Pininfarina says that four-door sedans (like his Pinin prototype, a four-door Ferrari, of all things) are the ultimate expressions of what the automobile is all about. Also, the Quattroporte is meant to combine the craftsmanship of a Rolls-Royce with the performance of a BMW, Jaguar, or Mercedes-Benz. And that, sports fans, is serious business.

Still, the Maserati Quattroporte is Italian. And that means it’s a little bit scandalous. Which makes it just a little bit less serious than other fine sedans.

The Quattroporte’s bloodline is certainly scandalous, for Maserati has drifted in and out of bankruptcy since it was founded in 1926. First the Maserati brothers were forced to sell their declining race-car company to the Orsi family in 1937. The Orsis got Maserati into the road-car business, but the strain of production tooling while in pursuit of the 1957 Formula 1 and sports-car championships forced financial reorganization in 1958. Maserati actually built more street cars than Ferrari did during the Sixties, yet in 1968 the Orsi family sold out to Citroen. The French company tried unsuccessfully to use Maserati to bolster its prestige (the Citroen SM was the result), but the conglomeration was swallowed by Peugeot in 1975. Maserati seemed about to disappear forever when Alejandro de Tomaso took over with the aid of Italian government funds. Slowly the company has returned to solvency. It built about 600 cars last year, 65 percent of which were Series III Quattroportes. The American market—always hungry for a blueblood name like Maserati—soaks up roughly three-quarters of the factory’s output each year. The Quattroporte itself is a bit scandalous too. It costs $65,000, measures more than sixteen feet in length, and weighs 4600 pounds. It also gets just 8 mpg on the EPA city cycle, making it the least fuel-efficient car you can buy in America.

It’s no wonder the Quattroporte doesn’t look serious. It looks too good, as if Giugiaro chiseled the shape from a solid block of marble like some sort of high-fashion bank vault-and for $65,000, you might well think of the Quattroporte as a place to keep your money. Even so, it’s clear the Quattroporte dates from a design first shown at the 1976 Turin show (Series III production began in 1979), for its crisp angles and broad planes look dated next to the soap-bar shapes being molded by the Germans.

The car underneath the sheetmetal is a little old-fashioned too—but in a way that signifies quality. The unit body is steel and features continuous welds, not spot welds. The result is heavier than modern chassis, but quite likely stronger too. The suspension also emphasizes fundamental verities: unequal-length control arms in front, a massive Jaguar-like multi-link independent setup in the back.

The engine too is a throwback. Unlatch the hood and you’ll find a 4.9-liter DOHC V-8 complete with four two-barrel carburetors. There’s not a vacuum hose in sight to obscure the view; it’s kind of like coming face to face with your high-school sweetheart again. This engine dates from about 1955, just like the Chevy small-block V-8, but the Maserati engineers built in all the good stuff the guys from Chevrolet could only dream about: an aluminum block with semi-wet liners, aluminum heads with chain-driven overhead cams (two per bank) and bucket tappets, a stainless-steel exhaust system, and a whole bunch of horsepower. Even Fangio, who used the original version of this motor in a 450S to win Sebring in 1957, reckoned that 400 horsepower at 7500 rpm seemed kind of strong.

About 25 years of continuous use in assorted Maseratis, including the first Quattroporte in 1963 (a four-door version of the Frua-bodied 5000 GT), has tamed this engine some. Even so, it still pumps out the kind of numbers that will give you religion, 276 hp at 5600 rpm. What’s more, the engine has been revised this year to meet 1985 emissions requirements—a great accomplishment considering the way other exoticar manufacturers moan and groan about meeting current EPA requirements.

Maserati’s secret emissions hardware is actually pretty straightforward-high-performance catalysts to match a high-performance engine, the solution we’ve been touting to exoticar makers for years. Each of the V-8’s dual exhausts dumps first into a three-way catalyst that reduces NOx emissions. Then a second catalyst, downstream of the first one, cleans up residual HC with the aid of air injected by an engine-driven air pump. The overall results are reasonable carburetor jetting, low exhaust back pressure (thanks to two resonators but no mufflers), and good power. The precious metal contained in the four catalysts might be costly, but who’s going to notice in a $65,000 motorcar?

Lucky for us, we’ve got more car to put the Maserati V-8’s power on the ground than Fangio did. The high-effort ZF power steering fosters a direct link between the driver and the four 225/70VR-15 Michelin XWX tires. Solid chassis construction, neutral handling, and a taut suspension help the Quattroporte make its move toward an apex with a single, deft swoop; the skidpad limit is an impressive 0.75 g. Best of all, this is one 4600-pound car that really enjoys booming and zooming on the road. You can take it out, shake it by the scruff of its neck, drive it flat-ass sideways, and it still won’t bite you.

Indeed, the Quattroporte is a pretty nice sporting vehicle. At the limit, though, you do have to contend with Father Physics. This car weighs 4600 pounds, after all. That means it heels over and rides on the bump rubbers if you really press it, so you have to pay attention to steering and throttle to keep cornering from becoming spectacular instead of fast. When all the suspension travel is used up, even a small pothole will induce the Michelins to break away, which they do more suddenly than we would prefer. (The XWXs also fail to provide much grip under braking.)

The Quattroporte feels like a high-performance car just going down the road, too. Initial compression damping has been relaxed slightly for ’82, but the ride is still firm and controlled rather than plush. Expansion joints signal their presence through the suspension, and the tires, inflated to 33 psi, drum over the bumps. Even so, the Maserati always feels hooked up to the road, which is a refreshing change from many other high-style sedans.

Most of the time on the highway, though, you’re more aware of the engine than the chassis. A Chrysler starter (the infamous Highland Park Hummingbird) whirs it into life with the aid of some fiddling with choke and accelerator pedal, especially on a cool day. Once the big V-8 starts exhaling through its two huge pipes, though, it sounds just like some hulking police motor, ready to do business. Tall gearing and lots of weight make rear-wheel scratch out of the question at stoplights, but the car surges forward in a sustained rush. Shifts in the automatic transmission (a Chrysler police-package item, we’re told) are triggered directly by throttle position (instead of by vacuum), so they’re forceful. The Chrysler tranny also has a tendency to surge at idle, but its lockup action is virtually undetectable. When you really leg this engine, it starts to moan just like the boat motor it was at one time in the early Sixties. There’s a three-color vacuum gauge to foster fuel-efficient throttle openings, but since the needle rides into the red at all times except for idle (yellow) or deceleration (green), you soon learn to ignore it.

By now you’re thinking the Quattroporte isn’t as comfortable as other fine sedans. But you’re wrong. The interior environment is on the intense side at speed, but the furnishings are wonderful. Soft glove leather covers much of the interior. The steering wheel can be adjusted up or down, in or out. The front seats are six-way power adjustable, and what they lack in support they make up in sensuous comfort. You might sit very low in this car, engulfed in automotive environment, yet you never feel stifled. The playful shapes and varied textures perfectly complement the car’s lively feel.

The convenience features in the passenger cabin are numerous. An ARA unit heats or air-conditions the interior with American efficiency (although at the price of substantial fan noise); the rear-seat passengers have their own duct and fan controls. Storage compartments are everywhere. The Blaupunkt CR-300 I radio and cassette works as if it’s worth the money. The side windows incorporate a network of fine defroster wires. They’re generally invisible during the day, but turn pinpricks of light into starbursts at night.

Overall, the interior isn’t exactly scientific, yet you can spend a lot of time in it with perfect comfort. The flaws are few. The LED clock looks like an off-the-shelf item from Pep Boys. The rear seats place your butt too low and your knees too high. The polished briarwood burl that trims the interior is so perfect it seems synthetic. And at night the instrument lights are reflected in the windshield.

This all adds up to a pretty nice car, but not one that will panic any engineers in Detroit or Stuttgart. The Quattroporte is a fine piece, built with old-world craftsmanship with an emphasis on ‘performance and reliability, but it’s a car of the Sixties. Every time you step into the gas, you can sense ten-dollar bills spewing out the exhaust pipes. Every time you brake, you’re reminded that this car weighs well over two tons. They don’t build cars like the Quattroporte anymore, and there are plenty of good reasons why.

Maybe the Quattroporte is no longer morally correct, but its performance reminds us that big cars still have their place on the road. A big car is still the best way to cover long distances on the highway. That’s why BMW; Cadillac, Jaguar, and Mercedes-Benz persist in making them. And while the Quattroporte is hardly the blueprint for the car of tomorrow, it represents a relevant performance standard.

It is, after all, luxurious. It’s also comfortable and fast. When you’re behind the wheel, the Quattroporte talks to you, the way Mario Andretti says a good race car does. It tells you what’s happening with the machinery and on the road, helping you transport your passengers in safety and comfort. All big cars should do so well.

Source: Reviews - aranddriver.com