The long-tailed Duetto that preceded the Spider was immortalised in the film The Graduate, and as subsequently overshadowed its replacement. But with 2-litre twincam power and typically tidy Alfa road manners, the Spider 2000 won plenty of friends in Europe and the USA. Compared with the Triumph TR7, the Italian car feels sparkling in a straight line, but heavy in the corners. Rare and desirable in the UK.

Legendary for its sweet engines and exemplary dynamics, the Alfasud proved that it was possible to build a fun and sporting small family saloon. Ample interior space was a positive, but saloon layout became irksome once it became clear that hatchbacks were the way forward at this level. A clear class leader for anyone who cared how their car drove, but killed by its shoddy build quality and appalling rust problems.

The car that took on the mantle of performance saloon following the end of production for the legendary Giulia.The Alfetta certainly had all the ingredients for success, such as the classic twin-cam engines upfront, a transaxle gearbox for excellent weight distribution, and keen handling. But outside of its home country, the Alfetta failed to shine, and was overtaken by the newly emergent German mid-liners. Still, it begat the wonderful GTV (below).

The Alfa that should have had the world at its feet: a rorty twin-cam upfront, transaxle behind and beautifully balanced handling. Let’s not also forget the Giugiaro-penned styling, which is a design masterclass that combined striking proportions with delicate detailing. Sadly, there were issues with build quality and consistency – get a good one, and you’d be rewarded in heaven, but a bad one will take you to hell and back.

Okay, so it took four years for the Sprint to appear after the ‘Sud went into production, but it was very much worth the wait. Like the GTV (above) Giugiaro styled the Sprint, and made a fantastic job of it – edgy, delicate and pretty. On the road, it was even better than the standard ‘Sud thanks to more highly tuned engines giving just a little performance. Downsides were its impracticality (to be expected) and, later on, rust. But it outlived the ‘Sud by five years.

Alfa Romeo’s mid-sized saloon was a typical sporting offering. All engine options were classic twin-cams, and punched well above their weight in terms of power. The Giulietta was a neat wedge shaped design which resulted in a roomy cabin and huge boot. Gearchange was variable from car to car thanks to unconventional transaxle arrangement and variable build quality. A good one was a fantastic driver’s car, though.

During the ’70s and ’80s, there was a commonly used cliche that Italians couldn’t build big cars. Looking at the Alfa Six, you’d initially think this was true. However, look beneath the Alfetta-on-steroids styling, and there is a genuinely interesting car to be found. The 2492cc V6 was a gem and the autobox was state of the art at the time. It drove pretty well, too. However, buyers hated them.

Alfa Romeo’s replacement for the influential ‘Sud didn’t exactly go down a storm with buyers. Although it featured a longer wheelbase and roomier cabin, it shared the older car’s awkward driving position and quirky ergonomics. When launched, the 33 was also considerably more expensive. We like the styling and layout of the car, but in truth, it was nowhere near a big enough step forward over its predecessor.

Alfa Romeo was in deep trouble by the early 1980s – falling profitability and dwindling market share had taken their toll. So when it came to replacing the much-loved Alfasud, the Arese company decided to hedge its bets by introducing a new entry level model to bolster the 33 (above). The ARNA was an unmitigated disaster, combining Nissan Cherry body, with Alfa’s flat-four engine and front suspension. It bombed, and led directly to the Fiat takeover.

If the 75 looked a little odd to the uninitiated, that’s because it was actually a top and tail job of the appealing 1977 Giulietta, featuring a 33-apeing wedge front, and sharper rear end… and a billiard table-flat roof. Under the skin, it was also pure Giulietta, which meant rear wheel drive and a transaxle. Alfa engines delivered ample performance, later Twin Sparks, especially so. In truth, patchy, but loveable.

Bertone gave the Alfetta a bit of a makeover, and Alfa Romeo fitted the wonderful V6 in two-litre form, to create this wonderfully shortlived range-topper. And running to expectations, the 90 failed to sell in any great numbers – especially outside of Italy – despite the dubious joys of an LED segmented tachometer, integrated dashboard mounted briefcase, and speed adjustable front spoiler. Are there any good ones left in the UK?

We’re going to see a quartet of cars sat on the same platform in this group – but of all the ‘Type Fours’ the Pininfarina styled Alfa 164 was by far the prettiest. Unlike earlier large Alfas, this was front wheel drive, and shared a great deal of Fiat/Lancia hardware. The glorious 3-Litre V6 was used in the 164, and meant it possessed the most charismatic engine in the class. This one didn’t rust, and wasn’t too unreliable.

The first Audi 100 was born amid chaos, thanks to parent company Volkswagen’s addiction to the rear-engine. But with the takeover of DKW and NSU, the company had access to some very gifted engineers, fully signed up to FWD; so even though VW may not have wished it, Audi under lead engineer Ludwig Kraus (nee Mercedes-Benz) worked on its new-generation of saloons. When the 100 first appeared, it proved a convincing rival to BMW, Rover and Triumph’s 2000s.

Here’s proof that even in its founding years, Audi was capable of producing a stunning looking car. The 100S was a logical development of the C1, but with a rakish look that many commentators likened to the Aston Martin DBS. A familiar range of engines meant that the 100S didn’t drive as excitingly as it looked, although it was still more than capable of delivering a spirited drive in the right hands. Sadly wasn’t directly replaced, but by 1980, it was clear why not.

Audi’s development from the remnants of NSU and DKW in 1968 was remarkably rapid, so by the time the 80 appeared in 1972, the company was already beginning to look like a credible alternative to the established rivals. The 80 was a good case in point – platform shared to also become the VW Passat, the Audi 80 sported neat Bertone/Luthe styling, FWD, a simple beam axle, lightweight construction and the superb EA827 engines, and was a fine saloon as a consequence.

The complex dynamic of VAG’s early ’70s lineup is perfectly summed up by the Audi 50. Built with the same core values that underpinned the 80, and styled by Bertone/Luthe, it ended up becoming the VW Polo in 1975. And despite both cars looking the same, the Golf and Polo trod a very different evolutionary path. The Polo and 50 sold alongside each other for three years, and the more expensive Audi was considerably outsold.

When launched, the Audi 100 was a neat, and typically Germanic large saloon. Airy cabin, nice ergonomics and neat road manners marked it out as a very competent steer. However, the arrival of its inline five-cylinder engine in 1978 added some much needed charisma, and a fine soundtrack. Audi claimed it was ‘as economical as a four, as smooth as a six’. Perhaps it was, but BMW and Mercedes buyers were unconvinced.

Longer than the class norm thanks to its longitudinal engine, the Audi 80 was a light and efficient package. Tidy dynamics and eager performance were the 80′s hallmarks, but high prices in the UK were always a handicap. Volkswagen power units were shared with the Golf and Passat, but very little else was – a lesson on how not to platform share. Survival rate is above average thanks to good rust resistance, facelift cars and five-pot 90s came in 1984.

Until the arrival of the Audi TT in 1998, Audi was usually considered a ‘nearly’ manufacturer. Nearly premium, but not quite. The 200 was the company’s first serious attempt to crash the BMW-Mercedes party, and it wasn’t a sales success. The warbling five-cylinder turbo was charismatic, and turbo performance was electrifying, if uncultured. The interior was close to being chintzy, too. A sales flop, but interesting…

A real game-changer from Audi, when the expression (first coined by NSU) Vorsprung durch technik actually meant something. The quattro was a clever amalgamation of Audi C floorpan, and intercooled version of the 2005T’s power unit, and the Iltis’ transmission system. It had been conceived for Group 4 rallying, which after 1980, allowed 4WD cars, even if the rulemakers didn’t expect them to take on such a form. A legend now, but surprisingly slow-selling when new.

It was Audi’s first coupé since the 100S, and this 80-based offering had a lot to live up to. In reality, the Coupé got off to a slow start, initially being offered (in the UK) in 1.9-litre five-cylinder 115bhp form; but the quicker and more expensive versions would soon follow. In 1983, the quattro version was rolled out, adding considerable ability. The range was facelifted with wraparound bumpers in ’84, and the range was expanded to include Golf GTi engined versions.

A major step forward when the wraps were pulled off this car in September 1982. Light weight and superior aerodynamics were allied to the efficient five-cylinder engine to produce an executive car with unrivalled pace (it could outrun a Rover 3500) and economy for its size. Despite its advanced specification, the Audi didn’t quite earn its premium pricing here in the UK. It’s an interesting classic despite anodyne styling and driving experience.

Adding a turbocharger to the Audi 100 was always going to produce fine performance. And so it proved: with 182bhp on tap, the first of the C3 generation 200s were capable of well over 140mph, and yet produce realistic fuel consumption. The addition of the quattro drivetrain in 1984 quelled the 200′s propensity for wheelspin, but was offered at a hefty premium on what was already becoming an eye-wateringly expensive car. And that’s why execs continued to buy 528is.

Five-cylinder Audi 80s had actually appeared at the end of 1980 with the arrival of the carburetted CD 5S model. It looked like a miniature Audi 200, and proved to be moderately successful. So when Audi introduced the facelifted 80 for 1984, it made the clever move of renaming the five-pots, and charging even more of a premium for them. The 90 and 90 quattro were effortlessly quick and capable, but lacked that vital spark that would have earmarked them as truly special.

Following on from the 100 C3, Audi’s third generation 80 took the aero concept and truly embraced it – and producing a medium saloon that boasted a cd of 0.28 in basic form. But there was more to the 80 than its sleek styling: for one, its interior build quality elevated Audi to Mercedes-Benz levels of quality. Hushed and refined, but not without dynamic problems at launch, Audi pushed a lot of development resources into making the 80 a good car later in life.

As before, the five-cylinder 80s were redesigned 90s in order to separate the two model lines. Was it enough? Probably not by the late-’80s. The situation wasn’t helped by Audi’s ambitious pricing policy, which pitched the 90 quattro – with 136bhp, remember – against the far faster BMW 325i. Cheaper rivals, such as the MG Montego Turbo and Peugeot 405Mi16 could run rings round the 90, too. Further development improved it, but that failed to address its biggest failing: its high price.

Following on from the 80 and 90, Audi introduced a new generation coupé in 1988. The main step forward from the previous model – overtly aerodynamic styling aside – was the hatchback rear, which added a semblance of practicality to what looked like a very desirable package. Initial models were too soft and slow for the money, but the arrival of Sport and 20V models into the ’90s improved the situation, as did 1990′s excellent 230bhp S2.

Back in the ’80s, Audi was still considered a ‘Wannabe’ prestige manufacturer, and its V8 was the company’s first step in a bold plan to join the gentleman’s club populated by BMW and Mercedes-Benz – as well as Jaguar. The 3.6-litre V8 engine was tuneful and the quattro drivetrain fun, but overall, buyers weren’t convinced, finding it too similar in appearance to the 100/200. A brave effort, rare now, and thanks to surprising unreliability, justifiably so.

Autobianchi served a very useful purpose within the Fiat empire – to try out upcoming technology and concepts, but without massive risk, due to far lower production volumes. The A112 was a preview for 1972′s Fiat 127, using its 1.0-litre engine and FWD drivetrain, therefore staking a real claim as Europe’s first supermini, two years before the Renault 5. Just like its Fiat cousin, the A112 was spirited and fun to drive, and corroded voraciously. Never offered in the UK.

Most people would say the BMW legend started with the 2002, but we reckon the 5-Series set a pattern that is followed to this day. Six-cylinder versions were smooth, and styling was crisp. Tail-happy handling now legendary, but could catch the sleeping driver unawares – especially in the wet. Dashboard ergonomics and seating set the standard for all to follow. Fabulously expensive in the UK during the ’70s.

The 2002 had been around since 1968, and picked up a reputation for dynamic excellence, but it’s the Turbo version that BMW unveiled at the 1973 Frankfurt Show that really excites. It was Europe’s first production turbo, introducing the concept of throttle lag to a whole generation of competitive drivers – but with 170bhp on tap, the 2002 was thrillingly quick in a straight line. A legend now, and precursor to the modern sporting saloon…

Building the lead set by the 2002 in the compact sports saloon market, BMW really cornered this sector of the market with the first 3-Series cars. Thoroughly modern and beautifully designed, these cars seemed worth the premium charged for them in the UK. Originally offered with four-cylinder engines for the 316 and 320, once the inline-six made an appearance in the 323i, the car’s success was set. A challenge to drive with 143bhp…

The BMW CS Coupés were well-loved, and something of a hard act to follow. So when the far more urbane 6-Series was rolled out to replace it, there was initially some resistance from buyers, who thought this car wasn’t sporting enough for them. Picked up the same technical improvements as the 7-Series (below) along the years, but truly came into its own when it picked up the M1′s 24-valve M88 engine to become the revered M635CSi in 1984.

The final of BMW’s threesome of executive saloons, but by no means the most popular. The 7-Series initially was powered by the M60 (later called M20) in 3- and 3.3-litre form, but they would be later updated with fuel injection for the 728i and 735i. Perfectly capable, and a technology leader, but somehow lacking the luxury car kudos of the S-Class or XJ6, but far more exciting once a turbo was strapped to the 3.2-litre to create the fire-breathing 745i.

The 5-Series of 1981 looked so similar to the car that came before many people thought it was a facelift. But underneath the me-too styling (which would look so much more staid come the arrival of the Audi 100), beat a very impressive new car. Engine management, ABS and computer controlled transmission was the order of the day, as well as the curious 2.7-litre 525e and 524td, which vied with the 520i for your fuel-conscious company budget.

The compact performance saloon that everyone wanted to beat during the 1980s – and few managed it despite trying incredibly hard. With straight-six power, rear wheel drive and perfectly judged steering, the 320i and – even more so – the 323i/325i were a real driver’s delight. The E12′s propensity to oversteer when it wanted had been tamed considerably in the E30; although keen wheelmen will bore you to death about the 3-Series drift machine…

A massively important car for BMW – and an enduring success today. The E30 generation of 3-Series cemented BMW as the market leader, and although it looked little different from its predecessor, thanks to understated styling by Claus Luthe, it was far more convincingly engineered and far better to drive. The 3-Series was cramped and not that quick in four-cylinder form, but the halo effect of the posher versions ensured the car’s continued success during the Yuppie decade.

The second generation BMW 7-Series arrived on the scene at the same time as the Jaguar XJ40 and the inevitable comparisons were made. Most tests concluded that the BMW outshone the Jaguar in terms of quality and engine refinement, but the Jaguar more than made up for these deficiencies on the road. As ever, BMW offered the sporting choice in the sector. BMW’s V12 option turned up years before Jaguar’s similarly powered XJ40.

BMW’s 5-Series was a quantum leap over its conservatively styled predecessor. Although the same basic engines and suspension systems were carried over, they had been considerably refined, adding to the car’s ‘ultimate driving machine’ reputation. Sweet-sixes were always the best ones to have, with the 528i and 535i being almost unbeatable. On top of this, excellent build quality made it the car to beat in the class.

The Arrow range (which consisted of Hillman and Humber models) was the final throw of the dice for the Rootes Group, replacing the Super Minx – and was conceived as a simple car that could do battle with the Ford Cortina. When it emerged, the Hunter proved both solid and stolid, and plodded through the ’70s without setting the world alight – changing to Chrysler in 1976 (with the rest of the range), and then Talbot in 1979. The last few were built in Ireland.

The Avenger embodied the hopes and dreams for Chrysler Europe when it was unveiled in 1970 – not least because it was built and designed from a clean sheet from the wheels up. Its 1250 and 1498cc engines were smooth and refined, and on the road, the Avenger was a tidy handler. But it soon picked up a reputation from rust and unreliability, and the sheen worse off long before the Hillman badges were changed for Chrysler in 1976.

A new big Simca for the French and a modern Humber for the British, the neat and tidy ‘American in Paris’, actually ended up pleasing neither French or Englishmen. Chassis dynamics were capable and very French in their set-up, but the Simca engines produced mediocre performance. Although it looked very similar to the Hillman/Sunbeam/Chrysler Avenger, it shared little of that car’s sales success.

Based on a lengthened Simca 1100 platform and powered by larger versions of its tappety engine range, the Alpine doesn’t sound like an inspiring recipe. But its smart Roy Axe penned suit, and commodious hatchback made it desirable enough to convince the Car of The Year judges it was good enough to win the award outright. Sadly, build quality – or the lack of it – proved the Alpine’s undoing, and the novelty soon wore off. Still, it lasted a full decade…

The Sunbeam was designed and put into production in just over two years, very much in the spirit of make-do and mend at Chrysler UK. That meant it sat on a shortened RWD Avenger platform, and was powered by a combination of that car’s and the Imp’s engines – but despite its hasty conception, the Sunbeam not only looked good, but fit well within the expectations of ’70s supermini buyers. Sold reasonably well, and performed better than the car that replaced it, the Samba.

Crisp Roy Axe-penned styling clothed Simca 1100 mechanical underpinnings to produce a rather uninspiring family hatch. Long winded, heavy steering and tappety engines were the overriding impression of these cars, but the it must be remembered that it won the Car of the Year award 1978, so someone must have liked it. By the ’80s, few cared about it – but the best version, the 1.9D, was actually rather good.

The Chrysler/Talbot Alpine never really took off in the way its makers expected, with poor build quality and resistance to rust being cited as handicaps. For ultra-conservative fleet managers, the hatchback layout didn’t impress either. The answer to that was the plush and rather handsome three-box Solara version. However, the new rear end failed to fix the other shortcomings, such as that rattly engine and biscuit tin build quality…

The Tagora started life as a replacement for the Chrysler 180/2-Litre, but when its maker joined Peugeot-Citroën in 1980 to become Talbot, its market aspirations were pushed upwards with the addition of the ‘Douvrin’ V6 engine. Hugely spacious and surprisingly good to drive, the Tagora had a lot to offer, but slabsided styling and lack of identity meant it was never going to sell. In short, it was a car that no-one wanted.

Once PSA was fully in control, it began a programme of replacement and renewal of the Talbot range. First to go was the Sunbeam, and in its place came the Peugeot 104-based Samba. It might have looked familiar, but the Samba sat on a unique wheelbase – although it shared its engines with the 104 and Citroën Visa, which made it seem less of an indulgence for the company. Economical and fun to drive, the Samba died with Talbot in 1986, replaced by the Citroën AX.

Trying to take the 2CV upmarket was something Citroën had been keen to do for years – the basic two-pot that could furrow ploughed fields was the ultimate in budget cars, but as the French economy improved during the ’60s, it was being left behind. The Dyane was a step in the right direction – improved equipment level, a smart(er) suit, and a hatchback certainly added functionality, if not desirability.

The crowning glory of the French motor industry going into the ’70s was an inspired combination of Robert Opron’s aerodynamic styling, Maserati V6 power and Citroën’s high pressure hydraulics. Somehow it seemed so right for the time, but within three years of the SM’s triumphant launch at the Geneva Auto Salon in 1970, sales fell off a cliff as Europe fell into an energy driven crisis. But as glorious failures go, the 135mph SM is as good as they get…

The Citroën GS was part of a new wave of forward thinking European saloons that convinced Donald Stokes into pushing ahead with the high technology Allegro. However, as appealing as the GS was to drive, thanks to its supple Hydropneumatic suspension and willing air cooled flat-fours that could be thrashed all day long, it was a flawed gem, and failed to sell significantly outside of France. However, it is an all-time classic now…

Light years ahead of its time in many ways, the Citroën CX was easily the most comfortable car in its class. The 2-litre versions received a boost in 1979 when new ‘Douvrin’ engines were installed to replace the ancient DS-based originals. Idiosyncratic dashboard, swoopy styling and blink-and-you’ll-miss-it steering meant you needed time to get used to the CX. Many buyers didn’t think it worth the effort.

The CX was the third ’70s Citroën in quick succession, following hard on the heels of the GS and SM. It shared the their Hydropneumatic suspension and the DS’s rather course four-cylinder engines, but despite the indifferent performance and economy, it was still a fabulous driving machine thanks to DIRAVI Varipower steering and high-pressure braking. Lived a long life, and remains a desirable car today.

Peugeot’s stewardship of Citroën soon made an impact on the model range – the SM died in 1975, and a mere two years later, the LN was ushered in to create a presence in the supermini sector. In reality, the LN was a facelifted Peugeot 104Z powered by the 2CV’s flat-twin in 652cc form. In 1984, the 1.1-litre Douvrin-engined LNA came on stream to add more performance and economy, but with the Visa already in the range, what was the point?

The next Peugeot-engineered Citroën after the LN made a much more convincing case for itself. It took the full-size 104 platform and combined it with an unusual Citroënesque body. The combination of idiosyncratic and rational made for an excellent supermini, which went well, even in 652cc Club form. Continuously developed, and once introduced in GTI and Diesel form, the Visa truly came of age – and although it died in 1988, the C15 van lived into the 21st century.

Citroën’s first mid-range car since the Ami was announced at a spectacularly unfortunate time, sharing its launch date with the Ford Sierra and Audi 100 C3. Despite its quirky styling, sales built during the ’80s, and by the time the diesels were on stream, it was one of the UK’s top selling imports. Technical highlights included Hydropneumatic suspension and an all new platform – later used by Peugeot.

UK reps loved their saloons back in the 1980s, and that put the Citroën BX at something of a disadvantage against more traditional rivals. But following the 1986 facelift, sales took off thanks to value pricing, excellent equipment levels and, in later years, the arrival of the XUD engine in turbocharged form. GTi versions were great MG rivals, but some buyers disliked their lightweight construction, confusing it with poor build quality.

The Axel was actually a fine marketing opportunity taken by Citroën – a Romanian Joint Venture had seen the launch the of Oltcit in 1981, and the French company imported them, at a bargain basement price, back into the home market. The Oltcit was actually the original pre-PSA proposal for the Visa (hence its GS flat-four power) that was later overtaken by the 1978 car. A rare sight in France, but still relatively numerous in the former Eastern Bloc country.

Citroën’s first credible entry into the supermini class was inspired. Previous efforts included the LNA and Visa, and neither hit it off with buyers – but the AX put everything right, and charmed buyers with its spirited performance and low purchase and running costs. The key to the AX’s success was its light weight, and that resulted in an efficient package that went toe-to-toe with the Metro in the late-’80s.

The Citroën BX 16V was one of those cultish gems of the ’80s that only now seems to be gaining appreciation from enthusiasts. With 160bhp from its all-aluminium twin-cam that was directly related to the rally championship-winning Peugeot 205 T16′s, the BX 16V dashed from 0-60mph in 7.8 seconds, reaching a maximum speed of 135mph – impressive even today – thanks to lightweight construction. Few survive today; and few appreciate its charms…

Replacing the CX must have been difficult for Citroën, but with the XM, the feat was managed superbly. Hydractive suspension offered superb ride comfort but reasonably roll-free cornering. Individually styled interior was interesting and huge. Two-litre engines were weak in standard form, but turbos were quick. Diesel and V6 versions were outstanding. Electrical problems dented image, and the XM never recovered.

Although the Autobianchi Primula was Fiat’s first ‘modern’ car, it didn’t wear the badge, so that honour is officially bestowed on to the Fiat 128. Engineered by Dante Giacosa, it adopted the classical fwd layout of transverse engine with the gearbox bolted on the end. Its significance was marked with a European Car of the Year award, but it helped that it was a great car to drive too. Again, rust was the killer.

Along with the Renault 5, the Fiat 127 helped define the supermini package for a decade to come – even though the earliest models made do without a hatchback. Responsive engines and fun handling marked the 127 out as the small car for keen drivers, but its cramped interior and less-than sparkling reliability record were major faults. The gearbox was also pretty appalling, too – fun if you can find one.

Originally intended to be called the 128 Spider, the Fiat X1/9 was a bold take on the small sports car from the typically flamboyant Italians Featuring a mid-mounted 1.3-litre engine putting out 75bhp, it wasn’t quick, but the road manners were delightful as long as you didn’t over-step the mark – in which case, it would spin like a top. Today, they’re worth buttons and rust is an ever-present worry

Fiat’s Mirafiori replaced the popular 124, but never really entered into the hearts and minds of enthusiasts in the same way. 1.4- and 1.6-litre models were acceptable to drive, but the twincam Supermirafiori and Sport models were a hoot. Very few remain on the roads today – especially the twincams. Blame a combination of rust, disinterest and acquisitive Morris Minor owners for that.

With the addition of the Strada’s uprated 85bhp 1.5-litre engine and five-speed gearbox, the sweet little X1/9 began to go some way towards releasing its inner potential. Although performance was slightly boosted, driveability was significantly improved thanks to additional mid-range torque. Sadly, the upgrade coincided with the arrival of ugly impact bumpers.

Fiat’s first ‘Golf-formula’ hatchback arrived on the scene in 1978. Known as the Ritmo overseas, it was launched on the back of a memorable advertising campaign highlighting the fact it was robot-built. As a replacement for the 128, it worked well because of its individualistic styling and fun-to-drive nature, but the usual double whammy of poor build quality and rust killed it stone dead on the British market.

The 1978 Fiat Ritmo/Strada might have looked individualistic, but it wasn’t a huge seller. Fiat attempted to sanitise the design in a 1983 facelift, but sales didn’t lift despite usefully improved performance an economy. The driving experience was not that inspiring, and with the addition of a charisma by-pass, the Strada II faded into the background. Shame though, because it still had a bit going for it…

Fiat introduced one of the first superminis, with the 127, but its second attempt was a quantum leap over everything that came before. The Uno was larger inside and more efficient than all its opposition, and literally raised the supermini bar overnight. As the ’80s progressed, the opposition did its best to create similar packages to the Uno, leaving BL’s diminutive Metro behind in the process. Few remain on the roads today.

Marketed by Fiat as much more than a Strada-with-a-boot, but the reality was the Regata was actually rather less. As was the way in the early ’80s, the Strada lost its striking looks when it transformed into a three-box saloon. The Fiat Regata’s main claim to fame was that it pipped the Montego by a matter of weeks to become Europe’s first direct injection diesel car in 1988. Forgotten today, rarer than hen’s teeth.

The Fiat Croma was never considered a credible force in the executive market, but that is not to say it was without merit. Interior was spacious (if low-rent) and the boot was huge. Engines delivered the goods, although the turbo version was vividly quick. The best power units were reserved for the Lancia Thema, which was much more appealing. Floppy body resulted in poor handling and ride – are there any left?

In contemporary road tests, parallels were drawn between the Tipo and the Maestro. Both were roomy, were rationally designed, and featured digital instrumentation in the top models at the time of their launches. The Tipo was a massive step forward from the Strada – most notably the galvanised body and new engines. It was also the first genuine multi-platform Fiat, donating its underpinnings to Lancia and Alfa Romeo.

Once unkindly described by CAR magazine as a ‘Cortina in drag’, the Capri MkII was a logical ’70s update of the original European ‘Pony car’. Featuring a hatchback and Pinto engines, the Capri became a surprisingly useable car with oodles of street cred. Sadly, it failed to capture the imagination of the sporting set in the same way that its predecessor did, but that would be addressed with the MkIII…

There was something a little predictable about the Escort – lots of engines and trim packages to choose from, lots of dealers, lots of rally victories… It’s easy to conclude that there wasn’t a lot to excite about the Escort, and it didn’t really inspire in any way, shape or form. But it looked good and proved dependable and cheap to run, resulting in huge sales. Today, fewer survive than you’d think, so it’s a classic.

This was the car to beat in terms of sales and design, as far as BL was concerned. The original Fiesta may well have been Uncle Henry’s first attempt at front wheel drive supermini, but it scored a perfect ten in just about all area – it was nippy, roomy and cheap to run. Engine range was 950cc, 1.1- and 1.3-litres, and practicality was second to none. The Metro beat it in most areas – except for UK sales sadly…

The more basic Granadas seemed to live in the shadow of the glamorous V6 Ghia models, but despite this, they were worthy and very capable cars. Massive sales success in the UK meant the Granada was the darling of the executive set, even though there were many alternatives to be had. Ford’s advantage was a wide dealer network and excellent relationships with fleet managers all across the UK.

The MkIII facelift was the lightest of light updates, and yet it managed to increase the Capri’s buyer appeal significantly. The quad headlamps looked far meaner than their rectangular predecessors, while the more sporting model lineup gave aspirational appeal. Lived longer than it had any right to, thanks to brilliant marketing and product placement. 1.3- and 1.6-litre versions were cruelly slow.

Firmly ensconced as the UK’s best selling car throughout the ’70s and into the ’80s, the Cortina Mk IV offered all things to all men. Nicknamed the ‘Big C’ by rival manufacturers, the Cortina was simple to fix and good to drive on the motorway in larger engined forms. Although considered primitive in the chassis department, it still outhandled and out-rode the Ital by quite a margin.

‘Simple is Efficient’ was the advertising strapline that accompanied the launch of the Escort III (codenamed Erika). The crisply styled hatch was a new departure for Ford, and the company was keen to sell the new car to conservative fleet managers. It need not have worried – the Escort sold straight from the box, despite choppy suspension. A wide range of engines and options available, the memorable model was the XR3.

The Sierra’s sheer quirkiness was something of an open-goal for Austin Rover. Its looks clearly didn’t gel with company car buyers, and the traditional looking (but more contemporaneously engineered) Montego should have been an easy sell against the ‘Jellymould’. But the mighty Ford marketing machine quickly turned around the situation, and following the clever 1987 facelift, the RWD Sierra became the bestseller it should have always been.

A major reskin and new dashboard wasn’t enough to keep the Fiesta ahead of second-generation superminis such as the Fiat Uno and Peugeot 205. However, it continued to fare well in the sales charts and staved off the Metro, which like the Fiesta was left behind by the opposition in the late-’80s. In typical Ford style, the Fiesta was available in a myriad of versions and the hot XR2 model sold well.

In the lead up to the Ford Orion’s launch, many people in the media portrayed it as a potential latter-day Cortina, on account of its conservative looks and traditional three-box style – a million miles away from the 1982′s Sierra. On the marketplace, the Orion proved a steady seller, and the prices were higher than the Escort, on account of a posher model mix. ARG used the Orion as a benchmark during 213 development.

Ford’s Granada went all Jellymould on us in 1985, and its grip on the executive market ebbed away from this point on. Engines were considered a weak link in four- and V6-cylinder forms, but the packaging was good otherwise. Interior was vast, and the chassis set-up was rather good. 4×4 and Cosworth versions offered sparkle at the top of the range. It was the first European car to offer ABS as standard across the range.

Replacing the long-lived Warsawa was going to be a costly business for the Polish government, so instead of investing in an all-new model, an approach was made by Fabryka Samochodów Osobowych to Fiat and a deal was struck to licence build its mid-sized 125 saloon. The Italian car’s twin-cam engines were replaced by derivatives of the Fiat 1300/1500′s, which left little else of interest. Very cheap in the UK, similarly priced to the Mini City…

The Polonez represented FSO’s attempt to modernise, but it was a compromised effort due to severe lack of development budget. In essence, it was a rebodied 125P, which sported a hatchback and more contemporary styling. Stodgy driving experience thanks to dreadful steering, gearchange and brakes, and hatch versatility limited by lack of a folding rear seat. 1990s Caro variation featured Rover K-Series and PSA XUD-Series power – but still dreadful in modern terms.

The Honda Civic was a remarkable car because it sold in huge quantities to the big-car loving Americans. The first Civics appeared in 1973, and proved that the Japanese were good at innovation. The facelifted model of 1979 retained the original car’s charm and precision feel, but added a bit more interior room and further engine options. The saloon version was rebadged and rejigged to become the Acclaim.

Although not a a sports car in the true sense of the word, the Prelude was fun to drive, reasonably quick and always reliable. Compared with a Triumph TR7, it felt much more saloon car like, but at the same time, came with a standard of build quality the British car could only dream of. Overtly Oriental inside, it ended up becoming a surprise Triumph kissing cousin thanks to the similar Anglo-Japanese Acclaim…

Honda’s middle-market offerings simply got better with each generation, and nowhere was this phenomenon more clearly seen than in the Accord. The 1985 car proved a huge hit in Japan and the USA, and quietly racked up sales in Europe. Good to drive and underpinned with engineering excellence that transcended its modest list price, all that stopped the Accord becoming a genuine force was its artificially limited sales and sparse dealer network.

Honda’s first executive car was produced with a little help from Rover – and vice versa. Considering it was a first effort, it was really quite good, and although styling resembled an Accord-on-steroids, it worked well, if not quite as successfully as Rover’s incarnation. Wheelarch blisters were a late project add-on but added character. V6 engines were gems, but could you live with the interior?

Not really a rival at all, but part of the team – except that in 1975, the beleaguered BL had to shed Innocenti, and as a result, its smart Bertone-shelled Mini 90 and 120L became part of the De Tomaso group. Whatever the politics behind it, the Innocenti Mini was a supremely stylish addition to the small car ranks, extending the donor car’s appeal with the addition of a hatchback. In 1983, the A-Series powerpack was replaced by a Daihatsu triple.

It’s difficult to talk about the Beta without mentioning ‘rust’, so we thought we’d get it out of the way first. Forgetting that, the Beta was actually a very fine car indeed – and although many Lancisti consider it not the real thing thanks to its Fiat engines, it still had that sparkle that marked it out as a cut above the rest. Twin cam engines and excellent handling marked it out as the driver’s car of the class.

Project X1/20 was designed to be a Fiat-badged big brother to the X1/9, but was re-jigged later in its development to wear a Lancia badge. Exquisite to look at, and drive, the mid-engined twincam Montecarlo struggled to sell in the face of cheaper opposition, and today looks like an exotic choice for your classic car money Again, rust is an issue, but survivors should have had their tinworm well-and-truly exorcised.

In many ways the Lancia Gamma Berlina was the closest we got to a production version of the Pininfarina Aerodyamica. The fastback styling wasn’t an unqualified success and remains overshadowed by the beautiful coupé version. 2.5-litre flat four engine was lusty, and handling was exceptionally neutral, so a great driver’s car. However, rust and reliability issues clouded the Gamma’s latter years on the market.

Although most people think ‘Integrale’ when asked about the Delta, the pocket Lancia in standard form actually had a lot to offer. At the time of its announcement, it was the first genuine premium small hatchback thanks to luxury interior and smart Giugiaro-penned lines. The Strada underpinnings resulted in a car that was neat and tidy to drive – and that was enough to bag it the Car of The Year award for 1980.

Another saloon-from-hatch conversion, and one that didn’t set the market alight in the UK. However, the Prisma was a classy saloon, and throughout its life proved good to drive and interesting enough in the engine department to avoid latter-day mediocrity. However, it was overshadowed significantly by the Delta. Closest of the group in terms of image and equipment to the vaguely premium Rover 213/216.

Lancia’s version of the Type Four was elegant and understated – like the Croma and 9000, it was styled by Giugiaro, so ended up looking a bit like a giant Uno. The plush woody interior used Alcantara masterfully, and strong engines provided plenty of straight line shove. The interior was capacious and inviting. Not a sales success in the UK despite its obvious appeal – being overshadowed by more established rivals.

Toyota realised if it wanted to make it big in the prestige car market, it would need to come up with a new marque with which to sell them. Lexus was the name (meaning Luxury EXport US), and the LS400 was the car – engine refinement was class leading, and quality pummelled the opposition. In fact, the LS400 moved on the game considerably – although a few people would conclude it lacked character.

Like the BMW 5-Series, the Mercedes-Benz W123 was exceptionally expensive in the UK market during the ’70s, but despite this, it still sold reasonably well. Build quality is legendary, and many examples survive today still clocking up the miles. The best version was the twin-cam 280E, but when it arrived in the UK cost more than 50 per cent more than the Rover SD1. Still, it’s a great car to go exploring in…

The Mercedes-Benz W126 was a huge step forward when it was launched in 1979, but by the time the XJ40 appeared in 1986, it was getting past it. Always a world leader in terms of solidity, the S-Class was the favoured transport of world leaders and German minicab drivers, alike – people who know a thing or two about longevity. The S-Class’ replacement in 1991 was also an XJ40 rival, but was far larger…

Following hard on the heels of the aerodynamically styled 190 Series, the Mercedes-Benz W124 was a kick up the ’80s for the German manufacturer. Build quality was not up to that of the W123, but improved after customer backlash. Engines lacked BMW’s sparkle, but were up to the job – excellent handling made up for the shortfall. Too pricey to compete on level terms with others in the class, but few cared.

Often overlooked in supermini history, the Datsun Cherry 100A (as it was called in the UK) hit the market in 1970 sporting a transverse cast iron/aluminium engine that was inspired by BMC’s A-Series. Mechanical sweetness was a hallmark of the Cherry, and that transpired into a very pleasant driving experience in town. Sales rapidly picked up in the wake of Datsun’s big 1973 marketing push in the UK, and would soon become a major player in the supermini sector.

Datsun’s 1.6- and 1.8-litre mid-market saloon had a tough gig in the UK. It was pitched against the all-conquering Ford Cortina and Morris Marina, and as a result, was entering a market dominated by the big domestic players. But despite that the Bluebird got off to a good start, selling strongly, thanks to keen pricing and generous equipment levels. In engineering terms, it was ahead of the Brit car opposition, thanks to ohc engines and independent rear suspension.

The 120Y (as it was known as in the UK) proved a breakthrough success for Datsun in Britain, largely at the expense of an embattled BL, which was struggling to meet orders, thanks to industrial strife. But that’s not to say the 120Y wasn’t without appeal – it had a lovely gearchange, generous equipment, and a smooth engine – and proved impressive for those used to more ‘traditional’ feeling British cars. Not a driver’s car, not with five turns from lock-to-lock steering.

Like the first Cherry, you could buy this one (known as the F-11 in the UK) in saloon or coupé form – and the styling retained that wonderful trans-Atlantic styling that looked so chintzy then, but so good now. The usual mix of sloppy dynamics, smooth engines, plenty of equipment and excellent reliability meant that the British bought these cars in their bucketloads. An interesting Allegro rival, but one that’s almost impossible to find today.

Once again, us Brits knew the Bluebird by a different moniker – the 180B. And once again, Datsun’s big-selling Cortina rival was a substantial success in the UK. Again, it was marked out by excellent equipment levels, refined engines and notable technical features denied Ford and Vauxhall owners such as a five-speed gearbox and independent rear suspension. The top model, the 180B SSS coupé looks wonderfully OTT then, and über-cool now.

Following on from the 710 series from 1973, the A10 Violet did an effective job of plugging the gap between the Sunny and Bluebird. Of course, it was a narrow gap, and we’ll understand if you can’t actually remember the Violet, and we hope you can forgive us for saying it packed the usual Datsun winning hand of tight build quality, mechanical refinement and high equipment levels allied with forgettable dynamics. Plenty would love to own one now.

Datsun built itself a fearsome reputation for ultra-reliable highly appointed cars, such as the 100A and 120Y, very quickly in the UK. The 1978 Sunny proved no exception to the rule – and although it was no great shakes on the road, it offered bags of equipment and a hassle-free driving experience for those not looking for the last word in dynamics. Smooth engine and gearbox made it a learner’s favourite, though.

The original Cherry 100A was a front drive pioneer, and formed part of the backbone of Nissan’s original expansion into the UK market under the Datsun banner in 1973. It was a steady seller, but rapidly disappeared off the roads due to rust. The third generation Cherry with its hatchback rear found itself up against the cream of the supermini crop, but was not a front runner, due to sloppy dynamics, poor performance and inadequate steering.

If the Bluebird 610 and 810 were inspired by the Ford Cortina MkIII, the 910 generation took things a step further, emerging from Japan as a near-carbon copy of the MkIV. Except the Ford had been around four years when the Bluebird appeared on the market, and that made it look a little over the hill at launch – but despite all that, the latest in the line sold well internationally, and continued to offer great value for money at the expense of excitement.

Arguably, the Stanza was Datsun’s first attempt at a European feeling mid-sized hatchback, as the Sunny remained resolutely rear wheel drive at the time. Neat, anonymous styling and indifferent road manners marked it out as a car that was never going to set the class on fire. However, the Stanza was a reasonable first effort, and paved the way for the 1987 Sunny – a much more convincing effort.

As the Cherry had grown up, Nissan introduced a new entry-level model. The Micra (or March in Japan) was a fairly convincing effort, and looked good thanks to neat styling (rumoured to be Giugiaro). Smooth mechanically, it was no great shakes on the road, but soon earned a legendary reputation for being an easy-driving reliable steer. Millions of learner drivers were introduced to the roads in a Micra.

Dull as ditch water to look at and drive, the Bluebird’s real significance lay in its production. The T12/72 series car was actually a rebadged Auster/Stanza – but unlike all of its predecessors, for the European market was built in the UK in a new plant in Washington near Sunderland. Alongside the Triumph Acclaim, the Bluebird proved that UK workers would assemble cars to an equally high standard as their Japanese counterparts.

Of course, the worry for the UK’s ‘big three’ was that once the Japanese started building decent cars on their patch, they’d be finished. And although that doomsday scenario never happened, the Primera did signal the arrival of the first genuinely good Japanese car to be built here. Well engineered and built, nicely styled and reliable, it was a genuine front runner. Sadly, Nissan’s UK importer imploded and failed to capitalise.

Perhaps the crowning glory of the German motor industry going into the 1970s, the NSU Ro80 looked a couple of decades ahead of its time. A wonderful technical package and aerodynamic body were combined with an intriguing twin-rotor Wankel engine built by NSU-Citroën Joint Venture Comotor. Sadly, it was a mechanical disaster with early reliability, and by the time they sorted the rotor tip issue the Ro80′s heavy fuel consumption killed it stone dead…

Designed, developed and packaged by NSU and sold by Volkswagen following delays in development and the weakened company’s buy-out. For VW, taking the K70 on board was manna from heaven, as the need to replace the Type 4 with something more contemporary (FWD and water-cooled) was becoming increasingly desperate. As it happened, the K70 sold reasonably well, with over 200,000 in five years, but its replacement, the Passat did rather better.

Traditionally, Peugeot models enjoyed long production runs (the 404 lasted until 1980, for instance!), and the 504 is no exception to the rule. It was designed to last, and styled timelessly by Peugeot, and powered by rugged combination of long-lived petrol and diesel engines. Great to drive, and especially capable on long journeys, the 504 won a generation of fans in France during the ’70s before going on to live an afterlife in Africa – where it remains in production.

The 104 is often overlooked as a pioneering member of the supermini set. Given its typically pliant ride and grown-feel it’s certainly not through a lack of ability. Okay, so the 104 didn’t actually sprout a hatch until 1974, with the advent of the Z-series ‘Shortcut’, followed by the four-door becoming a five-door at the 1976 facelift, but it was a late bloomer. As well as that, it underpinned a generation of superminis – before going on to be sold alongside the 205 for five years.

The Peugeot 604 joined the Citroën CX as France’s flagship model, and thanks to Pininfarina styling, it certainly looked the part – even if it did look like a four-door Fiat 130 coupé. Initially offered with the ‘Douvrin’ 2664cc V6 engine that found its way into the Renault 30 and Volvo 264 (and, criminally, not the Citroën CX), but a 2.3-litre Turbo Diesel joined the range in 1980. A good drive, but how many are left in the UK?

Peugeot’s executive challenger for the ’80s took a very conservative path in design school. As usual, Pininfarina styled the beast, and the engine range was a range of Petrol and Diesels including the ‘Douvrin’ 2-litre also found under the bonnet of the Renault 20 and Citroën CX. Like the 504, the 505 was incredibly capable, far more so than its low-key styling would have you believe, and in later GTI and V6 form, surprisingly swift. Continued the tradition for African popularity.

France’s best mid-sized saloon during the early ’80s, the 305 was a typical example of Peugeot’s ability to produce a well-engineered and comfortable family saloon. Long wheelbase guaranteed room and poise, and an impressive range of engines delivered performance and refinement. Estate version was especially capacious, and the later injected GTX models were fast, understated workhorses. Impressive.

Along with the Fiat Uno, the Peugeot 205 helped lift the supermini class significantly. The 205 was great to drive, looked good and offered a huge range of engines, offering something for everyone. Diesels and GTI versions are the most loved today, but the rest of the range sparkled with rare genius. In comparison, the Metro struggled significantly, although basic 205s looked spartan in comparison.

Considering the 405 was Peugeot’s first true upper-medium challenger since the 504, it showed a devastating return to form for the company. It shared its platform with the Citroën BX, but it felt quite different, and ended up being the best driver’s car in this sector. Sadly, it lacked solidity or any real quality, and its excellence on road was overshadowed by owners’ tales of woe. The Mi16 remains an all-time classic.

Peugeot’s previous large car effort, the 604, had all the ingredients to succeed: sharp Pininfarina styling, smooth V6 engines, and a supple chassis. Despite that, its sales weren’t anything to write home about. With its replacement, they decided to do exactly the same, and guess what happened… The 605 was a valiant effort, but because of its generic styling, critics said it looked to much like a 405 – or Alfa 164.

Chic and trendy the Renault 5 was from day one, it offered a loping ride and capacious boot. There were plenty of options to choose from, too. Packaging was a disadvantage thanks to its longitudinally mounted engine, which robbed space from the passenger compartment. It was France’s best-selling car until the arrival of the Peugeot 205 – and it also briefly held the title of Europe’s most economical car.

Although the Renault 20 was one of the most sober-suited offerings in the class, it was also one of the most capable in two-litre form. The ‘Douvrin’ engine offered fine performance and economy. Soft ride and tidy handling meant it was near the top of the class for comfort. Baffling rear seat folding arrangement almost negated the advantage of its hatchback. Voted Car of the Year by What Car? magazine in 1979!

One of the few genuine rivals to the Rover SD1 thanks to its hatchback, but the Renault 30 was hamstrung by its plain-Jane styling and lack of prestige kudos. The 30TS and TX were good run to drive thanks to their relative light weight and powerful engine, and proved a practical proposition for those who needed to carry large loads quickly. Renault’s lack of presence in this sector of the market means few survive.

Good luck finding one today, but if you can, and like the way it looks, and its wonderfully retro interior, then go ahead and buy. With a hot cam and 1.6-litre power, the 17TS combined reasonable economy with Capri beating performance. Pillarless side windows and rear louvres hinted at a sporting drive that ultimately didn’t manifest itself on the road – it felt very similar to the roly-poly R12 it was based on.

In many ways, this was Renault’s Allegro – it never sold well outside of its home country, it had challenging styling, and it earned its own nickname – namely ‘Rotten Pear’. It was the first Renault to use the joint-venture ‘Douvrin’ inclined four-cylinder engine, but is more fondly remembered for its roly-poly suspension. Rust seems to have claimed nearly all of them, and seeing one on the roads now is a real treat…

Traditionally considered a producer of wildly interesting and challenging designs, the 18 represented the beginning of a new chapter of blandness for Renault when it was launched. Offered in a wide range of engines and trims, it was certainly a credible alternative for the establishment – and front wheel drive meant more stability on the motorway. Turbo model was fast and flighty.

Fuego is Spanish for fire, but a quick drive of the sporting Renault was unlikely to set you alight. Based on the R18, the company’s ‘Open Plan’ coupé looked rakish and slipped through the air beautifully, with an exceptional drag coefficient of 0.347. The later turbocharged version added glamour, but came too late to rescue the car from its fate of an interesting footnote in history.

This bland and cynical attempt by Renault to produce a mid-sized saloon to fight the Japanese might be forgettable today, but impressed enough European motoring journalists to bag the 1982 Car of The Year award. In truth, that’s more a reflection of how quiet a year 1981 was for new car launches – and today, you’d be hard pushed to find any left. Turbos were fast and fun – and Monotrace seats were clever…

Unusually the Renault 11 was a hatchback-from-saloon conversion, having been based on the 1982 Car of The Year, R9. Renault’s ’80s blandness was staved off slightly in the 11, thanks to it’s glassback rear end and digital dashboard, but in reality, it was nothing to write home about. Engines were rattly and handling roly poly, but despite this it’s quite an endearing car. Remembered for its starring role in View To a Kill.

Although the 1984 Renault 5 looked remarkably similar to its legendary forebear, the ‘Super Cinq’ was entirely new. A masterful Bertone styling effort packaged new new transverse engine/gearbox packages. A big seller in Europe, but not a strong force in the UK, although the cultish GT Turbo proved a runaway success. Was eventually replaced by the Clio, but production overlapped for five years – Five was hard to kill.

The 25 was another large French car that failed to sell outside its homeland. Styled by Robert Opron, the genius who bought us the Citroën SM, it really should have looked more inspiring, even if it was briefly Europe’s most aerodynamic car. Remembered for its digital dashboard and terrifying depreciation, the 25 actually had a lot going for it, despite its utter anonymity. V6 versions were fast and thirsty but no match for an 827.

Giugiaro-styled, and underpinned by a sensible chassis, the Renault 21 somehow is less than the sum of its parts. Reasonable to drive, and flighty in two-litre form, it was overshadowed by more talented players. Technical interest points are limited to the mix of transverse and in-line engines, the late adoption of a frumpy hatchback, and the fire breathing turbo models. Rare now, and probably for a very good reason.

More of the anodyne same – the Renault 19 followed in the footsteps of the forgettable 21 in offering a good all-round range of qualities without actually advancing the sector by one jot. Although the Giugiaro styled 19 was forgettable, it was far from bad, offering a fine blend of economy, performance and ride, which meant it resided at or near the top of the heap when launched. 16V versions really added flair, though.

In typically Swedish fashion, the Saab 99 managed to be both rational and interesting at the same time. For a car of its vintage it was technically very advanced, but also a great car to drive. Cabin was a bit on the narrow side for maximum comfort, but that was negated by the commanding view forward and excellent seating. Strong performance and brakes were a 99 strong point – hatchback version offered later.

Considering the 900 was a stretched 99, Saab managed to get a lot of mileage from the car. Featuring the 1985cc slant-four engine with Triumph heritage, the Saab 900 was a likeable and useable executive car, with a hint of safety thrown in for good measure. Good to drive and reliable in service, the 900 is considered by many to be Saab’s high water mark. Especially in fire-breathing turbo form…

One of the less well-known Joint Ventures of the ’80s, the Saab-Lancia 600 is one of those cars that enthusiasts of the obscure love. Saab and Fiat joined forces to bring the Giugiaro-styled premium hatch to the Scandinavian markets, as well as providing the Swedish company with a worthy rival to the Volvo 340-Series. The Lancia Delta clone was far more rust-resistant than its Italian sister, making it the best of both worlds.

Saab’s first all-new car (excluding the badge-engineered 600) since the 99, and it proved a radical departure for the company, even if the turbocharged slant-four that powered it had a familiar ring. First model shown was the 175bhp T16, and it set a new class standard for performance at the time of its launch. Quality was tight, and reliability a step above its Italian cousins. CSE version stayed in production until 1998.

Interesting baby car that underpinned Toyota’s success in the UK market during the early and mid-1970s; and there was a time you would see these everywhere. But the little RWD saloon with Daihatsu Compagno heritage, and derived from the original Toyota Publica, was economical and easy to drive, and in a market starved of European cars through strikes and other production issues, proved just the ticket for undemanding buyers on a budget.

An impressive sporting coupé that, although based on the Carina saloon, packed a considerable amount of engine technology – the 1600cc twin-cam was more than a match for anything the Europeans had to offer at the time. Proved a big hit in the USA, helped in no small part by baby Pony Car styling, and effortless reliability. Underpinned by the A20/35 platform, the Celica Mk1 lived a longer than average life.

Although the Toyota Corolla had been around since 1966, and this is the third incarnation of the breed, it was this one that really helped establish the company in the UK during the mid-1970s. Available in saloon, estate and liftback (right) form, there was a Corolla for all buyers – and in true Japanese form, they were built like Swiss watches, utterly reliable and rusted voraciously. Liftback was innovative, though…

The A40 Series Carina seemed more tailored for European tastes than its predecessor, with boxy Cortina-aping styling. It helped bolster Toyota’s market share in the UK, which until the mid-’70s, was mainly dependent on the 1000 and Corolla, go head-to-head with the popular Datsun 180B (Nissan Bluebird) in the private car market. Survival rate is predictably low, and as a result, values are on the up in the UK.

Along with the Carina, the Celica came in for some serious updates in 1977. Sadly, whereas the saloon it was based upon became better looking and more appealing for western tastes, the new coupé and liftbacks lost their mid-Atlantic charming good looks. But despite that, the Celica proved popular in the UK and stacked up well against the Capri and Cavalier Sportshatch. The six-cylinder Supra version was not brought into the UK or Europe.

Toyota entered the supermini set in 1978. The Starlet might have looked like a rival to the Renault 5 and Ford Fiesta, but beneath its two-box styling beat the RWD heart of the 1000. That meant a cramped interior and cluttered boot thanks to its old-fashioned layout, but it also resulted in light steering, and a lovely gearchange, making the Starlet a great city car. These days, it’s regarded as a cool retro car, ironically its RWD layout is seen as a positive.

By the time the fourth generation Corolla was launched, it was beginning to look rather behind the times. The European opposition was moving to FWD en masse, but despite that, the Japanese midliner remained the world’s best-selling car, thanks to its domination of the Japanese, and many other Far Eastern markets. Light and effortless to drive, with a pleasurable gearchange, and nowadays, has quite a following in classic circles.

A typical early-’80s sharp-suited facelift of what came before left buyers with a conservative option in the middle-market. Similar rivals that the Carina would have been up against at launch were the Cortina ’80, Morris Ital, and the Datsun Bluebird – and in that context, it was a mostly competent car that was well equipped, roomy, easy to drive and, rather dull. Excellent refinement and cruising ability were a big plus; handling and steering, a bigger minus.

More early-’80s sharpness from Toyota, and this time, it gave the Celica a little more raciness after four years of anonymity. As before, the Celica was available in two body styles (three, if you include the targa top not offered in the UK); coupé and liftback. Twin-cam engines were a positive, but the really good news for Europeans was the arrival of the six-cylinder Supra version, which was a big-bore rival for the Ford Capri Injection and Alfa Romeo GTV6.

Rather confusingly, the first Escort-class FWD Toyota wasn’t the Corolla, but the Tercel in 1982. But predictably, it was the ’83 Corolla that became the big-seller for the company in that maket sector. But the Corolla FWD was a huge step forward, and prove that despite arriving late to the party, Toyota was capable of learning quickly. Interestingly offered in two wheelbases, and for fun-lovers, the coupé version retained RWD. That was the AE86, and is now a legend.

The Carina story moves on another generation, and moves into the realm of FWD. Except that the ’84 Carina II was actually introduced in 1983 as the T150 series Corona in Japan. With the new underpinnings, the new Carina moved from back-marker to a much more convincing competitor in the mid-market – but conservative styling held it back. Like the Cavalier and Sierra, the Carina was available in saloon and liftback form. Where are they now?

During the ’80s, the Japanese manufacturers revolutionised the sports car market – a process that arguably started with the MR2. Toyota’s Mid-ship runabout was a daring and sweet concept; a twin-cam 16-valve mid-engine transversely mounted took Fiat’s X1/9 and modernised it effectively for the digital age. One of the very few cars that pretty much reached perfection from the start, with the fatter, less desirable replacements diluting the concept unappealingly.

The sweeping move to FWD across the Toyota range took a major step with the arrival of the ST162 Celica. The new car was a total clean-sheet effort; new engines, new floorpan, new smoothed-out styling – and a real hoot on the road. Twin-cam engines delivered plenty of power, and handling was transformed over the old model thanks to a superbly set-up all-round independent suspension set-up. Turbocharged GT-Four was a brilliant sporting coupé.

A facelift of the previous Corolla, and one that brought the line up to date. In the UK, the RWD GT coupé was dropped and not replaced, but the rest of the saloon/hatchback range was directly replaced with the more rounded updates. Like its predecessor, an easy drive, favoured by pensioners and drving schools, but GTi-16 was an understated, but effective, member of the hot hatchback set. Still many around in areas less susceptible to corrosion.

Along with the Ford Cortina, the Cavalier was considered the establishment when the Ital was launched in 1980. Neat and predictable on-road dynamics and a wide range of engines made it a perfectly acceptable alternative to its Ford rival. Unlike previous generations of Vauxhalls, the Cavalier wasn’t too bad in the rust stakes either, and went a long way to turning the company’s fortunes around.

Solidly engineered and styled with more than a little panache, the Opel Manta and its more pedestrian looking Vauxhall-badged cousin emulated the Ford Capri by being enduringly popular and living far longer than they should have. Tidy handling and adequate performance marked these cars out as very rational choices in an irrational market. Rare now, and thoroughly good value compared with Ford and BL rivals.

Through necessity, it seemed the UK players clung on to rear wheel drive far too long – we ended up with small family cars such as the Chrysler Sunbeam and Vauxhall Chevette that stuck to the space-robbing layout. The Chevette may have not been the smartest car in the world technically, but it was still a fine drive. Cornering was impossibly flat and steering pin-sharp. The ancient 1256cc engine was willing, too.

When the Opel Senator arrived in 1978, it was a well-engineered replacement for the Admiral and Diplomat, but was based upon the smaller Rekord model. Styling was neat if unadventurous, but there’s no denying it was a competent car in 3-litre form. The Vauxhall version was initially called the Royale, but was changed to Senator when Opel disappeared from the UK market in 1983. coupé Monza version is a classic.

Most of us wouldn’t have thought there was a gap in the GM range between the Carlton/Rekord and Royale/Senator, but its makers did – and produced a six-cylinder version of the smaller car for those who couldn’t quite run to the real thing. Smooth and effortless performance, and superior seating marked out this car, but very little else did in a class littered with talent. Heavy fuel consumption a major down side.

GM Europe’s first FWD product was incredibly important for Vauxhall and Opel, and needed to be right first time. And that’s why the Astra arrived on the marketplace so much later than its rivals. But the conservative wait-and-see strategy proved successful, as the Astra waltzed straight to the head of the class, and remained there until it was replaced after a mere four years. High points were crisp handling and punchy engines – especially in 1.6-litre form.

When the front wheel drive Cavalier Mk2 was launched, it moved the game forward by a significant amount. Revvy ohc engines and keen handling soon made the crisp and handsome Mk 2 the repmobile of choice in the early ’80s – and leagues ahead of the Ital. There were no real weak points with the Cavalier, and it easily saw off the Cortina – then the Sierra – in the sales chart.

GM’s first entry in the supermini class came remarkably late – and it couldn’t have come at a worse time. Its designers seemed to take the Fiesta and Polo as their benchmarks, and produced a competent car as a result. The class mainly moved on – although in fairness, the Nova was always a more modern feeling car to drive than the Metro and Fiesta. Eventually supplanted the Metro as the UK’s young and first driver car of choice…

The car industry went big on aerodynamics in the early ’80s, and nowhere is this more apparent than the Astra Mk2. Although it was a straight re-body of the impressive 1979/80 original, it looked so startling, it was hard to think of the two cars being closely related. Engines were willing and interiors reasonably accommodating, but dynamics were a little on the vague side. GTE versions proved popular…

General Motors’ Orion competitor was another one of those cars that was more impressive on paper than it was on the road. Six-light styling and new front bumper differentiated it from the Astra it was based on, but not enough to convince buyers to take it to their hearts. Overtly aerodynamic styling was brave in the light of the reception given the Ford Sierra, but it opened a new era of slippery styling for General Motors.

The Vauxhall Carlton continued GM’s obsession with aerodynamically styled saloons. Underneath the surprisingly bland (considering its smoothness) exterior, the story was a familiar one, with many engines and its layout shared with its boxy predecessor. Despite that, it was a good car to drive, and excellent news on the motorway. Rear drive layout welcome, especially in the storming 3-litre GSi versions.

The Senator was easily outsold in the UK by the Scorpio and Rover 827, but we reckon many buyers were missing out on a bit of a gem. Although the digital dashboard took some getting useful, and the interior was a bit too flash for its own good, it was a cracking drive, with excellent performance, handling and steering. The 24V version knocked on the door of 150mph, but was civilised in everyday driving.

The slow-selling Sierra proved that it’s not always good to push the boundaries in the fleet market – but such was its influence, that within six short years of its launch, no one batted an eyelid when GM produced something equally aerodynamic to replace the fast-ageing Cavalier Mk2. The ’88 version redefined market expectations to a huge degree – the standard 2-litre versions pushed 125mph and could crack 0-60mph in under 9 seconds… GTi territory!

Was the Scirocco the perfect ’70s coupé? Let’s examine the facts – German engineering combined with Italian style to bring you the best of both worlds. Car magazine described the adorable Scirocco in one word ‘crackerjack’, and who are we to argue? Sadly, the Karmann assembled car possessed the ability to rust like an Italian, but before it fizzed away, the Scirocco MkI established a legend that subsequent versions have failed to live up to.

The Golf Mk 1 tends to vie with the Alfasud for the title of ‘Car of the ’70s’, but we’s swing in favour of the German car. It may not be quite the barrel of laughs the Italian car is, but it’s not far off. It’s just as good looking, too. The Golf gets the nod because of its hatchback, sturdy build quality and the early adoption of diesel engines. There were two weak links – it was cramped in the rear and the brakes were poor (in RHD form).

Volkswagen’s first supermini was a real class act – it should have been, too, as it was originally launched as the Audi 50. Styled by Bertone and featuring all-new EA111 overhead camshaft engines, the Polo was a class leading car from day one, despite its small boot and cramped rear seat. Handling and ride were typically Germanic. When the Metro was launched in 1980, the Polo and Fiesta were the cars to beat in the class.

Three-box conversions of family hatchbacks were never a huge sales draw, and the Jetta proved no exception to the rule. It may have lived in the shadow of the more interesting Golf, but it did have plenty going for it – not least the absolutely huge boot. Like all Volkswagens of the period, it was superbly engineered and reliable. High list prices and servicing costs always held it back in the UK fleet market.

The original Passat was little more than a badge-engineered Audi 80, but come 1980 and Volkswagen’s big saloon started to diversify from its Ingolstadt cousin. It retained the inline engine layout and smooth ohc engine line-up, and was available in hatchback, saloon (pictured and known as the Santana) and estate guises. Failed to sell in huge quantities although not through lack of any real ability. Soulless and drab in terms of design, but the five-pot GX5 version was an interesting Q-car.

Volkswagen’s second bite of the supermini cherry was a considerably more grown up effort. Its breadvan styling took space efficiency to a new level, and economical Formel E versions established the Polo as the sensible choice in the class. Like the original, it was a light and efficient car, and always delivered lively performance even in the most basic versions. A rational choice in a sector littered with plenty of talent.

Volkswagen’s re-invention of the influential Golf trod a rather predictable path. More rounded styling clothed familiar engines and similar looking interiors, but incorporated some rather useful improvements inside and on the road. The new car gave customers what they wanted and huge sales success duly followed, although some enthusiasts lamented the late car’s sparkle and character.

Arguably, Volkswagen created the hatch-from-saloon market with the original Jetta in 1979, so the well resolved styling of its 1984 replacement shouldn’t come as a surprise. Just like the Golf, it came in a myriad of engine and trim options, including the impressive 139bhp 1.8-litre 16V engine. Well-built and reliable, the Jetta sold reasonably well in mainland Europe, but didn’t take off the in UK – we love Golfs.

Both the Swedes in this selection went on to live exceptionally long lives. In the Volvo’s case, strong sales were the result of effective marketing and a hewn-from-solid reputation. The 244 became an upper-middle class icon in the UK, but despite the image, it wasn’t a great car to drive, and offered little in the way of inspiration. Massive safety bumpers weren’t sexy, but they were certainly effective…

The Volvo 240 was an endearing saloon car, with a Swedish down-to-Earth nature that made it hard to dislike. However, adding a V6 engine and jacking up the price meant that appeal ebbed away. Built like a tank, and doing a good impression of driving like one, the Volvo 264 sold in comparatively small numbers in the UK, although the estate version found a niche. The Americans seemed to like it, though.

In all honesty, the well-styled Volvo 340 should have been put out to pasture in the early-’80s. Its rear wheel drive platform and wheezy engines meant it struggled in every way to keep up with the likes of the Escort, Maestro and Astra. However, us Brits loved them, and fell head-over-heels for Volvo’s ‘safety sells’ marketing approach, even though it was possibly unjustified in this instance.

Volvo’s 300-Series proved one of the UK’s unlikeliest sales hits of the ’80s, as buyers found themselves magnetically attracted to the rugged small Volvo’s combination of perceived safety and low prices. Rear wheel drive de Dion-axled chassis was hardly cutting edge, but 1.7- and 2-litre Renault and Volvo engines delivered adequate performance – and for most buyers, that was enough. 360 saloon a minor seller in the range.

Introduced in 1982, the Volvo 760GLE was a vast improvement over the old 260. Its dynamics were significantly improved, interior was more spacious, performance from the newly enlarged Douvrin engine even stronger and the bumpers were even bigger. Styled to appease American buyers, the 760 found many fans in the UK, too – and although it looked like a tank, it drove very well – considering that live rear axle.

A genuine FWD pioneer, the Zastava 101 was a five-door Fiat 128 produced in Yugoslavia to meet the needs of a burgeoning motoring nation. Available in 1.1- and 1.3-litre form, Zastava found little trouble selling the 101 in its home market, although exports to Western Europe would take a little longer than anticipated, reaching the UK in 1981. By then, it was seen as an anachronism – had it arrived here a decade earlier, the story might have been a lot different.