It's the noise. Nobody could forget the noise of the Audi quattro. Even today we miss it

The other-wordly five-pot turbo howls with a malevolently off-kilter edge, blasts into sight at a random angle – though with the front wheels pointing straight ahead – and then it’s gone in the twittering of a wastegate… this was the image that started the love affair between the unlikely-looking square-rigger and a whole new generation of rally fans. ‘It’s the noise, said quattro star Michèle Mouton. ‘Nobody could forget the noise of the quattro. Even today, we miss it.’ Not since the Escorts’ BDAs had such an evocative sound echoed through the pine forests.

Who’d-a thunk it. Staid old Audi goes out and builds a sensible all-wheel driver to deliver Bavarians though their stiff winters, using bits nicked out of a military jeep – and then takes the World Rally Championship in its second season and fourth seasons, 1982 and ’84. Audi management claims it didn’t have rallying in mind when it green-lit the quattro, but when the four-wheel drive coupe exploded on to the scene in 1981 it changed rallying forever.

Initially regarded as too heavy and complex for rally stages, it proved its worth with three wins in its debut season of 1981, the first being Mikkola’s Swedish, and including victory for  Mouton at the Rallye Sanremo, the only woman to win a WRC event. Sure, it weighed a porky 1200kg, much more than the venerable MkII  Escort that won the drivers’ championship for Ari Vatanen that year – but it also made at least 100bhp more. Later, with 320mm lopped out of the wheelbase, and insane turbo boost – unrestricted for Group B, whose manufacturers had to make at least 200 editions – it could be screwed up to between 550 and 650bhp. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Mikkola had to give best to Markku Alen’s Lancia 037 on the Monte though. Battles between the two-wheel drive Lancia and the quattro have passed into legend, as Fiat and Audi threw millions into the sport, resulting in the two cars winning 10 of the 12 rallies in 1982. Helicopters would shadow the cars, dropping spares and mechanics down to fix them in the middle of the African plains or high in the French Alps – there seemed no limit to what could be done in the name of competition.

Audi’s all-wheel drive system spread the load between the available patches of grip. It’s a simple system in concept but its diffs let it down, so quattro rally cars ran a locked centre diff, a 75 per cent rear diff and varying degrees of slippage at the front to suit the conditions. Crude even for its time – Jimmy McRae recently said ‘sheer power was the only thing it had going for it.’ – and hard work.

The back of a quattro is a mass of tanks and pumps and coolers. Plastic/Kevlar body panels overlap. The engine brain is bungeed under the dash where it can be got at quickly. A metal plate riveted on to the door explains how to interpret the data feeding back from your complicated new quattro. Early cars had a simple ignition interrupter switch on the gearknob so the driver could momentarily kill the ignition during slam-though full-power clutchless upshifts. Later, there was an automatic clutch punched to the floor by a huge hydraulic ram that could break the driver’s foot if left in the wrong place. It’s all a bit military.

Scary – but pioneering stuff.

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