Ah! We meet at last, Biturbo coupé. You embody everything that went so wrong during the dreaded De Tomaso era, even if you’re not the ugliest of the bunch (Ghibli II, anybody?)… I have already spilled much bile and ink on you, but always by way of a proxy. And now, here you are, in your slightly improved (but still quite horrid) two-door 222 variant. My Italian nemesis. Oh, I think I’m going to enjoy this.
There are, broadly speaking, two kinds of Biturbos: those that were actually called “Biturbo,” and those that were produced later without that name, which had become sales poison. Strictly speaking then, this is the Maserati 222 E – the Biturbo name was officially (but not universally) dropped in 1988, just as this model came to be.
As discussed plenty of times on CC already, the Biturbo’s rushed 1981 launch, ineptly piloted by the infamous Alejandro de Tomaso, was the car’s undoing. Developed on the proverbial shoestring, the Biturbo took its inspiration from the BMW 3-series, though it was aimed at a more exclusive clientele. Initial response was rapturous, making de Tomaso seem like a genuine Midas. The new small and relatively affordable Maser was selling like hotcakes, albeit half-baked ones. Early models (i.e. right until 1985 or so) were plagued by shoddy build, being assembled too quickly by various De Tomaso-owned concerns — including Innocenti, who had no expertise in luxury cars. The new twin-turbo DOHC V6 had its positive points, but reliability was not among them. To top it all off, the car’s handling in the wet was atrocious.
That didn’t stop Maserati from providing their new wundercar in a variety of bodies, including a four-door saloon, a wider luxury GT and a Zagato-built two-seater convertible. But the original Coupé, designed in 1977 by Pierangelo Andreani and taking its cues from the Quattroporte III, was always the archetype of the breed.
The many technical and production issues took a long time to solve. The handling was much improved by a new limited-slip diff and the engine’s most egregious woes were somewhat cured thanks to a new Weber-Marelli fuel injection system, but build quality remained a headache, now compounded by terrible word-of-mouth, bad reviews and dwindling sales.
In 1988, to coincide with the dropping of the Biturbo name, Marcello Gandini was roped in to give the range a bit of a facelift. It was subtle and the budget was tiny, but the designer did smooth out the car’s very late ’70s features – especially that grille.
This was of course spread to the rest of the range. As we can see from this 1989 French advert, the Biturbo name was not entirely dispensed with in all markets by this point in time. Nothing like a muddled PR campaign to help with a troubled car’s image. Some argue that the 222 is a Biturbo and that the name was only properly retired in 1991, when the 222 got a major facelift, or even 1994 when production was halted.
The original Biturbo had been pretty square on the inside too, but that aged rather quickly. The instrument binnacle in this 222 was more fashionably semi-circular and the nasty digital clock that used to be on the dash was replaced by the trademark oval gold clock. The equally (in-)famous “hot dog buns” on the central armrest would be a fixture of Maserati interiors for a good decade.
And yes, these coupés do qualify as four-seaters – pretty tight ones, but four seats nonetheless. Domestic 2-litre cars got cloth seats, but export models were given the leather treatment by default. Though I’m sure a number of Japanese clients would have ordered the cloth interior, if given the choice.
The “E” in “222 E” stands for Export. The Biturbo and most of its derivatives were usually available in Italy (and sometimes France) with a tax-friendly 2-litre V6, but the same model always had a larger displacement abroad – in the present case, 2.8 litres. Both versions were rated the same, at 225hp, but the 2.8 had a lot more torque. Transmissions were courtesy of ZF and included the default 5-speed manual or an optional 4-speed auto.
With under 1200kg to haul around, the all-alloy V6 was able to propel the car from zero to 100kph in about six seconds. Top speed was only around 230kph though, probably owing to brick-like aerodynamics. Contemporary testers remarked that the car’s brakes could be overworked if the 222 was driven hard. ABS was not on the options list, when it really should have been fitted as standard.
The Maserati 222 E is an object lesson in turd-polishing. It was objectively better than its direct predecessors in certain ways, but the fundamental nature of the car meant it was beyond salvation. This led to a spiralling effect (not unlike a toilet flush): Maserati spent time and money trying to address issues, while the Biturbo’s reputation went down the drain, causing sales to flatline and money for further development to dwindle. Rinse, wipe and repeat, until Fiat comes to the rescue.
Related posts:
Curbside Recycling: 1989 Maserati Biturbo Spyder Zagato – Italy’s Interpretation Of The Chevy Cavalier Z24 Convertible, by Jim Klein
Car Show Classic: 1990-96 Maserati Shamal – The Wildest Biturbo, by William Stopford
Curbside Classic: 1986 Maserati Biturbo Spyder – Do You Feel Lucky?, by Tom Klockau
Curbside Classic: 1992 Maserati 430 4v (AM332) – The Better Biturbo, by T87
CC Capsule: 1984 Maserati Biturbo Si – Sexy, Immobile, by Jeff Nelson
CC Capsule: 1997 Maserati Ghibli GT – The Last Vulgarati, by T87
CC Outtake: Maserati BiTurbo – Slammed In The Weeds, by Lee Wilcox
For me it just lacks the presence and charisma you need in an Italian car of this era to offset the reliability and durability issues.
+1
well said