From the May 1979 issue of Car and Driver.
“ZAG-uh-toe .... What is that, one of them new little Plymouths?”
He’d been studying the little Lancia through the window as we rummaged through his parts store in search of a you-wire-it cigarette lighter we could graft into the car’s electrical system. The on-board lighter socket had proved incompatible with our Escort’s plug.
“Za-GAH-toe,” we corrected. “It's made in Italy.”
He considered that piece of information as we paid for the lighter, then tried to sell us a can of engine additive as we made for the door. The dogeared display for the pour-in miracle claimed it would do everything short of putting you in the winner’s circle at Daytona. In the old days, in different packaging, it probably sold as a cure for rheumatism, lice, warts, heaves, halitosis, and hard hearing. He patted the uppermost can and his voice trailed us into the drizzly afternoon, hinting of impending doom.
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He had a point there, but we forsook the additive and let the door close behind us. We hooked up the Escort and set out into the growing evening rainstorm in search of a major mechanical or electrical failure to get pissed off about. The further we got from Daytona, spearing out into the chilly, deserted, water-swept two-lanes of central Florida, howling into the gloom at a steady 80, the clearer our second thoughts became. What if Lancia’s self-incriminating talk of a “new high-quality modular electrical system throughout” was just a hoax? We didn’t even have an umbrella. Would the modular electrics leave us sinking in the middle of some non-modular backwater swamp? Would the shift linkage come adrift? Would the carburetion cease to carburet, or the ignition cease to ignite? These were fits of pique visited upon us by Lancias before. But the Zagato did none of the above. Oh, the letdown, not to be able to tell you we had to hitchhike out of the Glades in the back of a sagging half-ton Ford pickup.
Times have apparently changed at Lancia. While we can’t say the thrashing we dealt our Zagato was the equivalent of 50,000 miles’ worth of normal driving, the car suffered us, if not gladly, at least with no crippling catastrophes. Its shortcomings fell more in the area of nuisance value, an area offset by the fun of driving the car under the right circumstances. As often happens with cars of strong character, the Zagato’s car-to-owner-to-car relationship becomes a high-spirited adversary relationship, an exchange of sometimes conflicting, sometime parallel philosophies. This relationship can make a Lancia Zagato a rewarding car for the right owner. All that remains is to determine whether ownership then qualifies him as a 24-karat eccentric in good standing, or simply a lover of good fun.
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Fun is what Lancia had in mind when it contracted Carrozzeria Zagato to create and build a coachbuilt steel targa body for the existing Beta Coupe. The unit-bodied result is an interesting combination of a normal lift-off fiberglass targa roof panel and an everyday roadster’s fold-down vinyl rear roof and plastic window. The targa bar that remains after everything else is lifted off or folded down provides sturdy rollover protection, enhanced by horizontal outer roofline struts that connect the bar with the windshield pillars. Four configurations are possible by adding or removing the roof components and rolling windows up or down.
The resulting greenhouse possesses all the elegance of a railroad shanty and thwarts the clean, simple lines of the lower body. From certain angles, the Zagato looks like a stubby El Camino pickup with an enclosed bed, but unlike an El Camino, it has another pair of seats behind the driver and the number-one passenger. However, candidates for travel in back may want to suggest a democratic drawing of straws, fearing their upper and lower extremities will be forever molded into unnatural shapes. Lowering the back window provides a modern version of the rumble seat and a bit more headroom, but no extra sympathy for the legs. The Zagato is not by any means or intent an appropriate way to transport half your neighborhood to a formal dinner party. Consider it a sports car that happens to benefit from a slight extra people-carrying capacity suited to quick runs down to the beach, the movies, or the local watering hole.
As always, Lancia has provided a nice setting for front-seat travelers, creating a modern environment that welcomes you with comfort—though the passenger is probably more comfortable than the driver. The seats are good, but the driver is squeezed into the classic American-knees-in-the-American-armpits Italian driving position, arms stretching for a steering wheel that lies out near the horizon.
But inside the car, you tend to forget about the varied points of styling and sometimes even about the peculiar driving position. Sometimes the Zagato is so much fun you can’t help yourself. Other people watch you rip past, and you know they’re thinking, “What would I do if I had that? What does it feel like without a roof or a back window?” They figure anything with these looks must be kinda fast, and they wonder how many friends you can squeeze into the thing before the cops stop you. The Zagato is meant for the unpredictable kind of fun you can have only if you’re unpredictable enough to have a car like this. If that’s eccentric, so be it.
The Zagato’s chassis configuration has become so commonplace as to have lost all appeal for eccentrics. Contained within the 92.5-inch wheelbase and 164.6-inch overall length are the transverse engine and front-wheel drive shared with Lancia’s other models, and echoed by a dozen other manufacturers. A five-speed manual or a new three-speed automatic transmission provides the gearing, and the engine, provided by parent company Fiat, has been enlarged for all Lancia’s models this year, jumping from 1756 cc to 1995 cc. The 84.0 mm bore remains the same, but the stroke has been increased from 79.2 to 90.0 mm. The two-liter whips out 87 horsepower at an enthusiastic 5400 rpm and boasts a torque increase of almost
17 percent, up to 105 pound-feet at 2900 rpm. The double-overhead-cam four leans over twenty degrees, and its electronic ignition, Weber two-barrel carburetor, and aluminum hemi-heads provide both exotic specifications and good midrange performance. The engine runs on unleaded gas, purifies its wastes with a catalytic converter, and, when hitched to the five-speed overdrive, propels the Zagato an average of 19 miles per gallon.
At 2730 pounds, the Zagato is heavy for a car its size. Its standard high numerical gearing is necessary for lively around-town and back-road performance, but it produces much noisy complaint from the engine in the lower gears. Fourth gear above 60 is hopelessly noisy even though it has another 27 mph worth of revs left. Fifth ceases the caterwauling up to about 70 mph, when droning sets in and wind noise around the roof panel and rear window increases to what seem supersonic levels. Noisy and tightly wound though it might be, the wailing little engine produces only mid-pack performance—0 to 60 mph in 11.9 seconds, the quarter-mile in 18.7 seconds at 73 mph. By standing on the gas long enough, you can wring a 103-mph top speed out of the Zagato. Its passing performance is quite reassuring when you’ve picked the right gear. On occasion, getting the right gear can be much more a bother than picking it, but the transaxle’s linkage isn’t entirely bad, and the fat shift knob and easy heel-and-toe movement are fine. The five-speed pattern is a proper H, with fifth up and away, opposite reverse.
The brakes Lancia has hung under the coachwork are more than just reassuring. With a big disc at every handsome alloy wheel, and aggressive, low-profile Pirelli P6s, the Zagato likes nothing better than knocking off speed with breathtaking quickness and control. The speedometer needle struggles to keep up in getting down. Pedal effort is light, and the rousing 186-foot measurement for 70-to-0-mph stops runs neck-and-neck with or even betters some of the world’s highest-performance automobiles.
The 185/65R-14 P6 Pirellis are tremendous. Not only do they ride smoothly and quietly, even at the high pressures we use for hard running, they’re beyond reproach in their performance characteristics. They are predictable, precise, and monumental in their ability to inspire confidence. They seem to have no sudden tuck-under, and finding their limit seems almost as much a mental exercise as a physical one. While the Pirellis are good, the Zagato certainly adds its own zesty spice to the handling brew. The spring and shock rates provide a firm smoothness of control. The car’s aloof road manners do not disappear into the lower recesses of every chuckhole or flutter over every sudden rise. The suspension is all-independent, MacPherson struts all around. Each aspect of wheel control is dovetailed neatly with the others, from the point where the P6s manhandle the pavement right up to the precise, refined new rack-and-pinion power steering, which allows only slight tugs on the wheel in the lower gears. If it were not for the power assist, the awkwardly positioned steering wheel would be a real obstacle, more opponent than accomplice in the battle of leverage. Its rake adjustment allows none of the fore-and-aft movement so badly needed for correct reach to the wheel.
Directional stability is outstanding, the Zagato arrowing its way over and through every snide parlor trick our grousing malcontent of a highway system can throw at it. The inherent understeer is moderate, and its symptoms are further reduced by the quick steering and the response of the Pirellis. Body roll and brake dive are under tight rein. The car works not as a scurvy rat's nest of separate parts, but as one very snug unit.
Lancia hasn’t been exactly famous for well-conceived interiors, but the Zagato benefits from a general redesign for 1979. Our white test car, trimmed in black and sporting the new bumpers and restyled grille and hood introduced this year on the older Beta Coupe, was cloaked inside with gray cut-pile carpet and black leather. The dash, also black, contains a new, six-gauge instrument panel. A 120-mph speedometer and a 7000-rpm tachometer, redlined at 6500, dominate the scene, even though they’re partly hidden behind the overstyled wheel, which has miserably placed spokes. Smaller gauges keep tabs on amps, fuel, and water temp, the other three being allotted to the oil pressure, temperature, and level. Our water-temp gauge wasn’t registering, so that must have meant we didn't have any . . . what, water or temp? The layout is cluttered around the nacelle for the radio (which is very good and has a power antenna), but the general ergonomics and labeling of controls are excellent. The ventilation, heater, and air conditioning worked very well, handling unexpected Florida extremes in a manner obtrusive only because such adroitness was a surprise in a newly introduced limited-production car.
Several irritating bugaboos crop up here and there around the Zagato to take the edge off the nicer sides of its personality. A horrid “modesty panel” (the biz name for the under-dash trim panel that hides a car’s plumbing and wiring woes from critical eyes) snaps at your toes every time you press the clutch pedal, solidly and dangerously snagging your shoe as you let the pedal back out. The sun visors cannot be folded to the sides. The shoulder harness has a tendency to tangle. The plastic rear window is clouded with a chemical haze. The rear-view mirror vibrates. The glove-box door fits poorly and is blemished with a bright blue “Unleaded Fuel Only” badge. And the hardware and trim don’t equal the excellent overall paint and finish.