Due to the incompability of Opel paint processes and Finnish weather conditions, coupled with the effects of road salt, Opels have often been deemed as rust traps. It doesn’t take long for a Vectra to score its flanks with rust marks, and to rot out its wheelarches. ’80s models have faced the crusher in swarms. It’s a shame, since a number of Opels can be considered fine vehicles. Despite its shortcomings, I like the Calibra’s coupe shape, and the plush Senator 24V Dual Ram is most likely comparable to a good Holden.
As I’ve gotten accustomed to my E34-series BMW by now, it’s definitely interesting to compare the E34 to the General Motors competitor: the Opel Omega. You might know it as Lisa Catera from the CBS medical drama Chicago Hope.
In this article, I outline two distinctly different Omegas from the opposite ends of the pre-facelift B-shape spectrum.
The first tryout was this 1995 two-litre saloon with manual gearshift. It was for sale not far away from where I live, and was advertised as a one-owner car with 180k on the clock. I took it for a quick drive, long enough to note the 16-valve four didn’t come with too much puff, the car didn’t enjoy driving straight and despite the dealer telling me it had apparently been babied by the sole owner, the rear arches had rusted badly along with the rear doors. Also, up until now I thought headlight cataract only developed on American-made cars.
The Omega’s standard plastic rocker trim had been stapled back in place, telling tales of hacked rust repairs underneath. Add a significant oil leak and the 2400eur price getting dropped only by 400 eur, and I politely walked. By now, I hadn’t been too infatuated with the basic car at all. It was your average Finnish Opel, to say the least.
It took a trip to Eastern Finland, and a tire-kicking session with the owner of the above Scorpio, for me to re-develop interest in the Omega again. We had originally planned to go see a 2002 E-class, but since that one turned out to be rustier than desired we headed to the forecourt of another seller, and found another Omega for sale there.
This car was different. It was a second-hand German import with a believably stamped logbook, but what mattered especially was the drivetrain: the 3-litre, 24-valve C30XE V6 with 211 horsepower. This 1999 car was a top-of-the-line MV6 Omega, with everything you could specify except leather. Xenon headlights, climate control, cruise control, Philips navigation, the works. With 150 000 km on the clock and interestingly little rust, we decided to take it out for a quick drive around the countryside roads.
Within yards, the Omega captivated my interest. With the proper engine, the car felt lively and easy to haul; the V6 packed enough punch to keep me entertained. It had a healthy snarl, even if the exhaust did have an aftermarket-sounding drone about it. At the helm, it felt grippable, tossable even for a large executive car, and I could see it was designed to execute fast-paced overtaking manouevres along the countryside highways. An Opel to pique my interest, really?
The engine had had a recent-ish cambelt service, the transmission had been flushed and the A/C system boosted. The dealership claimed there had been some expensive running issues, rectified by a freshly replaced coil. Certainly, the car felt like 150 000 decently-kept kilometres, and not a slapped-around pseudo-luxury barge that had swapped hands every time a hiccup came along.
It also has valid inspection to June 2014, so I wouldn’t really need to do anything else than to assert all the little niggly things it could possibly need along with the rust spot rectifying on the rear arches. But those weren’t significantly big, compared to practically anything else. My BMW needs more attention on that front.
Predictably, the infotainment screen displayed random complaints in English, while the frankly useless but period correct Philips Carin navigation screen next to the CD player just showed a disclaimer. It’s ridiculously placed, and I’d be better off and safer using my phone’s maps for navigation while driving, since that would be closer to my line of sight. But the car had wood and the cigarette facilities were unused, so it all balanced somehow. The A/C blew cold as it was supposed to, and no clunks reached the cabin.
The plasticky interior was cleaner than the Finnish 180k km car, but that’s mostly down to the amount of care administered by the dealer. The fake wood brightened the interior a lot, and I’m not the one to complain about it.
In the end, it comes down to money. The silver V6 car costs somewhat more than the green four-banger; they asked 4k for it, or 3600 without trade-in, while I could get the green one for 2000 eur. They also valued my BMW at 2000 eur, which is more than I paid for it in the autumn. I can’t say I’m not interested; the silver Opel lies 500km east from me right now, so I can’t make rash decisions. Driving back home west last night, I could’ve accumulated a number of speeding tickets had I had the 100 extra horsepower the C30XE engine has over my BMW’s M43B18. And it would’ve been so much more fun.
Could I see an Opel, of all things, in my future? Could I badge it as a Cadillac, even?
[Images: Copyright 2013 Hooniverse/Antti Kautonen]
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