Variety is the spice of life here at Hooniverse. Every-playa-has-one Supercars are not really guaranteed to get us twitching with excitement. We’re all grown-up enough to know that it’s engineering and thought, not just power and prestige that makes a great car. And there are more than a few of us who derive our interest in a vehicle from factors utterly unrelated to mechanical competence, hence my continued loyalty to a certain old Rover, despite its long and damning list of flaws.
One thing that seems to unite us all, though, is cars which keep you guessing. A car which externally speaks nothing of the amazing things it’s capable of. One such thing car is the W12 powered Volkswagen Phaeton, of which more after the jump.


The four-zone climate control system of the Phaeton  is designed to be able to “maintain a constant 72 degrees fahrenheit inside the cabin while driving at a sustained speed of 186 MPH through an outside temperature of 122 degrees”.
It was that statement, which I first heard on Top Gear in 2003 and which has been ricocheting around the internet ever since, which sold the Phaeton to me. Those numbers are flabbergasting, not least the one about a sustained 186mph. That’s Testarossa speed, from a car which looks as sober and unassuming as a country vicar. That said, there are some very suspect vicars out there.
I own several brochures and other Phaeton publicity ephemera, but unlike our own (well, TTAC’s own) Maxichamp, Jim Yu, I’m distressingly unlikely to ever own the actual car. Perhaps with this in mind, I bought this AutoArt model of it twelve years ago, and every now and again I just have to get it out and have a quick gawp.

It’s an astonishingly dull looking car, that’s for certain. The model does nothing to exaggerate the plainness of the subject matter, down to the might-as-well-be-hubcaps alloy wheels. It’s modelled well, though it should be pointed out that this particular example has suffered some light roll damage related to a high shelf / gravity scenario some years ago. It pulled through with nothing but a bent bonnet hinge and a slightly altered stance to give it away. That’s Phaeton engineering.

The view under the bonnet might inspire a yawn, too, but that’s not necessarily the fault of the model. VW may have employed one of the most fascinating powerplants ever to propel a car, but they chose to dress it up in the frumpiest set of clothes it could find. Aside from some manifold complexity and a sticker, there’s very little to suggest anything of the complexity below. Nothing much here to froth at the mouth over.

To be honest, there was nothing really exciting about the (fully carpeted) interior, either, aside from absolute comfort and peerless build quality. There’s little question, though, that this is anything other than the high point of the model. It’s fantastic. The switchgear is accurate, the woodgrain is accurate, only a too-thick transmission selector lets the side down.

Things continue to the same standard in the back, accessible through wide-opening rear doors, which are nice to see on a model. The chrome on the interior door handles and loudspeaker grilles is picked out delicately, and the impressive looking bank of rear seat media controls is present and correct. Note the very 2003 lack of TFT screens!

Though I’ve not taken any images, the chassis detailing is lovely, too, with castings for the wishbones and subframes all replicated. It’s a very difficult model to rate, really, taking its age into account the standards of detail, finish and accuracy are very high. The prototype probably didn’t give much scope for taking things further. The AutoArt Phaeton has become a pretty rare model and the few that came up on an eBay UK search cost a kings ransom. As much as I like mine, and am going to give it am 80% approval rating to be on the safe side, I don’t feel I can recommend it on the basis of value for money.
But if you did take the plunge, I can’t blame you. Blame Yu instead.
(All images copyright Chris Haining / Hooniverse 2015)