Tested: 1998 Audi A6 2.8 Quattro Pulls Us Back In

From the November 1997 issue of Car and Driver.

When Harry Cohn, the tyrannical and much-despised boss of the Columbia movie studio, died almost 40 years ago, thousands attended the funeral. When asked why so many showed up, comedian Red Skelton said, “Give people something they want, and they’ll turn out.” The same maxim applies to success in the car business. Audi has doubled its sales in recent years with a new generation of first-rate cars that have brought people back to the showrooms.

The first of these new models, the A4, was introduced for 1996. It anchors the Audi line and has been on our 10Best list for the past two years. Then, in 1997, Audi hit the upper end of the spectrum with its aluminum-bodied A8, which we called “a nearly flawless interpretation of what a modern luxury automobile ought to be.”

In 1998, Audi hopes to keep this momentum going with its third new car in three years, a redesigned A6. Audi hopes this sedan will eat the lunch of its German rivals and steal some tidbits off the plates of Lexus, Infiniti, and even Cadillac. “We want to be mainstream players and com­pete against the icons in the marketplace,” declares Gerd Klauss, head of Audi’s North American operations.

The A6 is expected to be priced about the same as its predecessor, $34,500, which will give it an attractive advantage over the BMW 5-series, which starts at $40,000, and the Mercedes E-class, with its base price of $41,000. Audi hopes the A6 will also figure in the plans of buyers who might otherwise be interested in the Mercedes C-class, the Lexus ES300, the Cadillac Catera, and the Infiniti J30.

Audi makes no sporting pretensions for the A6, declaring it to be a luxury car. It qualifies for membership in that crowded club by virtue of a standard­-equipment list that includes everything from pop-up headlight washers to a remote-opening decklid. Just about all the hardware that once defined luxury is now optional on lesser cars. What distinguishes the A6 from these mid-rank models is the quality of its parts, precise assembly, and a scrupulous attention to detail. To cite just one example, the map pockets in the front and rear doors swing out on beefy hinges for better access and are covered on the inside with material that matches the carpet and trim. They have a thick and solid feel and close with a muted thunk. Indeed, every aperture, from the doors to the wood-faced panel that conceals the radio, pivots with ease and shuts with a solid click, a crisp snick, or an authorita­tive thwack.

The controls and the switches are unambiguous and easy to operate and move frictionlessly through their arcs. The standard instruments are present, augmented by an analog clock and an oil­-temperature gauge that is actually cali­brated in degrees. The steering wheel tilts, telescopes, and fits the palms as comfortably as the handle of a Louisville Slugger. Although the driver’s seat could use more support at its sides, it does adjust every which way and nestles the body snugly.

The A6’s high beltline and body­builder shoulder room give it a secure, encapsulated feel. The judicious use of wood trim contributes to an atmosphere of opulence. Audi offers a choice of three standard interior motifs—described cloy­ingly as Ambition, Ambiente, and Advance—marketing buzz that might have more clearly been whittled down simply to “formal,” “casual,” and “prac­tical.” Leather is optional across the board, but the standard leatherette, or cloth in the Advance version, is equally attractive.

Audi has neatly shunned some con­temporary styling conventions both inside and outside the A6. An instrument panel that blends into the center console is almost a cliché these days; Audi’s segregates these elements. While other man­ufacturers are trying to escape the con­formity inherent in aerodynamic design, Audi has expanded on it.

The body of the A6 looks as solid as a block of granite that’s been chiseled and chamfered to knock off the sharp edges. It would look ponderous if Audi hadn’t relieved it with a thin, delicate roofline that arcs in a gentle parabola from hood to trunk. Audi says the styling gives the A6 a coupe look, but if it wasn’t for its short bubble of a deck, the A6 would be a fastback, and a good-looking one at that. From any angle, the A6’s styling is unconventional, yet it continues the Audi family look.

In photos, the A6’s proportions make it look smaller than it is. In fact, it’s four inches longer than the BMW 5-series and almost three inches longer than a Mercedes E-class. And with a curb weight of 3740 pounds, the A6 2.8 Quattro is not exactly svelte—it’s about 150 pounds heavier than a 528i or E320.

A lot of that mass has been put to good use to stiffen the chassis; Audi claims a 50-percent improvement in torsional rigidity over that of the previous A6. Although the meaning of that claim is mis­leading, implying as it does that the old A6 was as stiff as a noodle, the new A6 cer­tainly feels as snug, solid, and secure as a bulletproof vest.

Unfortunately, at least from an enthu­siast’s point of view, Audi has compro­mised some of that feel with a suspension tuned more for comfort than handling. All A6s get a lightened version of the new virtual-steering-axis four-link front sus­pension from the A4 and A8—22 pounds were cut by using more aluminum and a new tubular steel subframe. Quattro models get a newly designed unequal-­length control-arm rear suspension, front­-wheel-drive versions use a torsion-beam rear suspension. The springs and the dampers are tuned for a ride that’s softer than a BMW’s and firmer than a Buick’s.

Around town or on a freeway, the A6 glides along as comfortably and silently as a Zeppelin. Its rounded body, with its low drag coefficient of 0.28, creates about as much wind noise as a swooping seagull. There’s no play in the steering, and keeping the car between the white lines requires only the occasional faint nudge of the steering wheel.

But on the loops and whorls of a mountain road, the soft suspension substantially limits the A6’s cornering speed. However, this is not to say that driving the car hard isn’t fun. With four-wheel drive, an inde­pendent rear suspension, and lively steering, the Quattro stays as well balanced as a squirrel on a telephone wire. Pushed hard, it doesn’t exactly understeer as much as go into a gradual four-wheel drift that’s easy to control with jigs of the steering wheel and gentle throttle manipulation. In quick left-right transitions, the suspension doesn’t seem as soft as first impressions indicated. It doesn’t allow unpleasant body roll, and under braking the nose doesn’t curtsy excessively. There are no surprises, which is good for building confidence but bad for inspiring overconfidence. It’s easy to get lulled into a false sense of security and exceed the A6’s modest 0.75-g cor­nering limit, however forgiving the car might be.

Most of this kind of driving, although it’s a guilty pleasure, isn’t what the A6 is intended for. With 200 horsepower from its 2.8-liter V-6, which has five valves per cylinder, the A6 can hold its own on the highway, but its passage up the power curve is deliberate rather than swift.

As a result, the A6 takes 9.7 seconds to reach 60 mph and a tepid 17.5 seconds to cover the quarter-mile—that’s one to two seconds slower than most cars in the class. Still, it’s fun to punch through the gears with its five-speed Tiptronic manu­matic transmission. Reaching the shift lever is as easy as swatting a fly off your knee. Slap the stick to the right, and you’re in Tiptronic. Then all you do is tap it for­ward to upshift, and tap it backward to downshift. It’s electronically controlled to keep the inattentive from slipping into first gear at 80 mph. Whether in manual or automatic mode, the transmission is as smooth and tasty as Julia Child’s choco­late mousse, and it won’t leave your fin­gers sticky.

Audi figures that 70 percent of A6 buyers will choose the Quattro option. At about $1600, it’s virtually a giveaway. But there’s a penalty. The hardware weighs an extra 231 pounds, which is the equivalent of carrying around an invisible George Foreman wherever you go, and costs about a mile per gallon in fuel economy. Still, it’s worth it for the added security of twice the traction.

Front-wheel drive just wouldn’t seem right in a car full of just-rights, an example of which is the feel and placement of the pedals. Another is its Scenicruiser visi­bility. Then there’s the craftsmanlike fit of the interior appointments, and so on. If only it were just a bit quicker, but then Audi says there’s a V-8 on the horizon. That would be the final just-right to com­plete a nearly perfect package.