Andrew Frankel: 'BMW's visionary i3 and i8 electric cars came too soon'

Unless it is timed correctly, a good idea is not merely no better than no idea at all; because of time, effort and money that goes into making it happen, it’s actually quite a lot worse. I wonder if that’s how BMW now feels about its visionary i3 and i8, one a hatch, one a junior supercar, both now celebrating their 10th birthdays, both so unsuccessful they were not replaced? Both made extensive use of carbon-fibre reinforced plastic to make them light, both were wildly, laughably ahead of their time and the only problem with that is we’ve just not realised it yet.

Look at the i8: a gullwing supercar weighing less than the lightest 3 Series on sale today (yes, really), capable of hitting 60mph from rest in a fraction over 4sec yet capable of returning over 40mpg. Unlike, say, the far more expensive Honda NSX, you could plug it in and drive at up to 75mph on electricity alone. And it did all this thanks to its carbon chassis and great-sounding 1.5-litre, three-cylinder hybrid powertrain keeping the mass to just over 1500kg despite it also having small rear seats. It also looked dreamy.

The i3 had an aluminium structure, CFRP panels and, despite being a true EV was the lightest BMW on sale, which is fairly extraordinary when you consider how corpulent almost all EVs have since become. It was faster than some versions of the two-seat Z4 roadster and better handling, too. Best of all, you could spec one with a tiny BMW scooter engine that would cut in when your battery level got too low, so you knew you could always get home or, at worst, to the next filling station. Range anxiety ceased to exist.

I think if these cars were being launched today – suitably updated – we’d be greeting them as absolute engineering miracles. But expensive to build and slow to sell as they were, they exist today simply as tantalising insights into what might have been.

“I was lucky to be able to call Lady Susie Moss my friend for years”

I thought I would share one memory of Lady Susie Moss, now that she has very sadly left us. Much has been written about what an extraordinary support she was as both wife, friend and business partner to her illustrious husband, and I was lucky to be able to call her my friend for many years. It is also the absolute truth that I never saw a happier couple than Stirling and Susie. I have some understanding also into just how very hard life was for her during Stirling’s long final illness and after his death in 2020.

But the memory I want to write about takes us back about a dozen years to a hospitality unit above the pits at Spa. I mention it now, because I think it provides insight into the real Susie Moss. Whatever race we’d been doing was long since run, the prizes had been given, the champagne drunk and the canapés devoured. I was in my pit garage packing my bag when I realised I’d left something in the room. Happily it was directly above where we were located, so I just ran up the stairs and into the hospitality unit. There was no one inside save a cleaner, dragging a bin liner around the room behind her as she picked up the detritus left by the departing guests.

I walked straight past her to collect whatever it was that I’d left, paying her no further attention until she looked up and said, “Leaving so soon Mr Frankel?” It was Suze. Thought you’d like to know.

I’m not sure I can think of a car which I prefer in open roadster configuration to how it is as a coupé. But I may be about to make an exception for Gordon Murray’s new T.33 Spider. Pre-existing working commitments meant I was sadly unable to accept Gordon’s invitation to come and see the car and talk to him about it, but from what I have seen from the photographs, it is at least as attractive as its closed sister.

Cleverly – and you wouldn’t really expect it any other way – Gordon actually designed the Spider before the coupé despite the fact it is being unveiled approximately a year later. This meant that all targets for torsional rigidity and stiffness applied directly to the Spider from the start rather than engineering an ideal coupé, and having to then compromise that to make the open car. I note too that despite the targa roof panels and electrically lowering rear screen, the entire weight of the T.33 Spider has increased by just 18kg, which, when you have 607bhp under your engine cover, isn’t going to make much of a dent in performance.

Who is going to buy such a car? Well, clearly, some of the 100 units will be sold to people who really want to feel the wind in what’s left of their hair, but I suspect most will go to those who were simply unable to get a T.33 coupé when it was first announced.

Deliveries begin in 2025 with prices starting at £1.89m, approximately half a million more than charged for the T.33 coupé. It seems like an enormous additional cost for a targa roof, but for those to whom such numbers are unimportant, simply the ability to own one of Gordon Murray’s masterpieces will make it seem good value all by itself.

A former editor of Motor Sport, Andrew splits his time between testing the latest road cars and racing (mostly) historic machinery
Follow Andrew on Twitter @Andrew_Frankel