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John Phillips on the Best Odds: Lotus Elan

lotus elan
John Phillips on the Best Odds: Lotus ElanIllustration by Alexis Marcou - Car and Driver

From the September/October 2024 issue of Car and Driver.

You think you remember this car. You don't. What your memory is summoning is the original '60s-era Lotus Elan that was the size of a beehive and so fragile that it could be demolished by, well, bees. Under review here is the Norfolk company's second shot at Elanism. It resembled the first like a football resembles a soup tureen.

The Elan M100 arrived in the States for 1991 and was, from every angle, a soothing Peter Stevens moonbeam, a melted two-seat wedge with a smiley face, gorgeous even with lid erect. At the time, it was as if a Soviet space chimp had landed on a rooftop in Muncie, Indiana. "Well, hell, it's cute as a bug," onlookers cooed. "But what do people do with such things?"

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Lotus USA never possessed cash sufficient to answer that question. At the time, Lotus hoped to peddle 1000 Elans annually, quadrupling the brand's sales and ensuring survival. It helped not at all that buyers were as likely to locate a Lotus dealer in an abandoned bowling alley as anywhere else.

This was the first all-new Lotus in about 15 years. We initially agonized over its front-wheel drive, which would have inflicted upon Lotus founder Colin Chapman a second fatal heart attack. Moreover, it was propelled by a 162-hp turbocharged 1.6- liter inline-four whose usual nest was within the nose of an Isuzu Impulse. I remember thinking of the Elan as a monumentally svelte and sophisticated Geo Storm GSi—an opinion I dared not utter because the Lotus's base price of $40,989 back then would as easily have secured a Nissan 300ZX Turbo, a Mazda RX-7, or a Chevrolet Corvette.

Car and Driver, in fact, assembled all four in Asheville, North Carolina, where the Elan was already tied to the whipping post. Turbo lag. No ABS. Room behind the seats for a divorce decree only. Seething vortexes plucking at the unlined top. And the Isuzu engine tended to buzz beyond 5000 rpm, although it gladly revved to 7000 and could summon 60 mph in the mid-sixes. Patrick Bedard and I—seemingly alone—were smitten.

Japan's infusion, of course, represented reliability, an attribute previously unstudied in Hethel. Ford twin-cam die-hards rioted, but we paid to have them smothered.

At least one of the new Elan's traits would have tickled Mr. C. At 152.2 inches, the car was the size of a dessert cart, measuring 16.3 inches shorter than the RX-7, with an 88.6-inch wheelbase—stubbier than a contemporary Miata's. It was thus a featherweight at 2452 pounds, 432 pounds slimmer than the RX-7.

With so little mass shifting from post to post and Lotus's suspension tweakers at intellectual apogee, the Elan emerged balanced, generally neutral, funneling into understeer to protect the heavy-handed. I further admired its absence of torque steer, the gratifying five-speed shifter, and the warm oasis of exclusivity the car so gracefully conferred. Rare? Do you know why there's no secret handshake among Lotus owners? Because Lotus owners assume there are no other Lotus owners.

Lotus should have called the Elan the Alas, because its fate stateside seemed sealed not long after its first oil change. As few as 559 came here, with sales stifled by typecasting. That is, Lotus builds only knife-edged track stars, right?

Not this time. The Elan's suspension was Cadillac compliant, its cushy flat seats could swallow country-club backsides, and the cockpit was a festival of funereal gray, dark gray, and blackish gray, eschewing the Euro version's striped upholstery because Americans, well... who knows? Enthusiasts would later forgive a Porsche SUV, but not a Lotus that Aunt Karen could drive to mahjongg. I remember wondering whether GM, then Lotus's landlord, held up a Buick Reatta as a template. Like the Reatta, the Elan was more a "personal luxury coupe," an urbane commuter that was practical even in snow. More like the then-aborning Mercedes-Benz SLK. It nonetheless represented Lotus's admirable small-bore approach to speed, with perhaps too much emphasis on "bore."

Pointing to the Elan's footwell, I said, "Look, no dead pedal."

"Brit understatement," Bedard replied. "It's saying, 'Hey, pard, I'm not that kind of car.'"

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