To see a car designed for designers, you need only turn your oversized Philip Johnson-style spectacles toward the Audi TT.
From the concept car's debut in 1995, the TT was meant to engage automotive aesthetics in big, arty, self-conscious ways. It was machined minimalism, a smooth river stone of steel. Designed by Freeman Thomas and J Mays (both now with Ford), the TT invoked a kind of patent geometry. Inside, the car's exposed aluminum details and catcher's mitt stitching celebrated the rawness of these materials in ways that drew attention to the process of car building. As buzzwords go, they don't come much bigger than "process."

Designers, of course, loved it. And Audi has made the MacBook-using, Prague-summering, black turtleneck-wearing creative class something of a captive audience. The company has pushed Audis in the hands of star-chitects such as Frank Gehry and Richard Meier. The print-ad buying has zeroed in on graphic, fashion and industrial designers, and those who patronize them (note the full-pagers in Dwell magazine).
With the second-generation and redesigned TT (out since late 2006), the matter has become more complex. We know the car is supremely hip. But are you, Mr. and Mrs. Consumer, hip enough?
I would have argued to leave the TT in its original, iconic shape — as Volkswagen has done with the New Beetle, now a decade old — but I understand the need to freshen the product line. I also understand that the rap against the old TT was that it was a chick car — the soft, smooth volumes read as cute and feminine.

The new car is slightly bigger, slightly bolder and marginally more butch, although I still wouldn't drive one to a NASCAR race. It retains the overall proportions of the original, which is a good thing. The biggest difference is the front grille — the signature Audi trapezoid — and the crisp, wedgy accent lines on the fuselage.
But there is no disputing that this is one great-looking car: elegant, sophisticated, this-minute-modern. The big structural change for the TT is that the current car uses Audi's lightweight aluminum space frame construction; the previous car had a steel monocoque. The aluminum-bodied TT is vastly stiffer and more tensile, quieter and more substantial.
For the roadster, Audi wisely retained the brushed alloy roll hoops behind the seats, which are just as cool as ever. Purists might argue that the original TT made a clearer statement, and that the new car is more conventional. Maybe. But there is still no other car on the road that puts so much design savvy over four wheels.

If you buy the TT, you better love the way it makes you look, because what you're buying is a 3,262-pound calling card announcing your refined sensibilities. It's no hard-core sports car. On just about any road course, a Mazda MX-5 would cut the TT into Bauhaus confetti and for thousands less. If performance is what you're after and you must have the four-ring imprimatur, may I suggest the Audi S5, which — at $62,000 — is a steal.
The TT comes in two varieties, coupe and roadster. In Southern California, this is no decision at all, especially since the power top mechanism on the TT is so fluid and snug fitting. If things get windy, a mesh wind deflector deploys from behind the roll hoops.
The roadster is available with two engines: a 2.0-liter, 200-horsepower turbocharged four cylinder and a naturally aspirated 3.2-liter V6 putting out 250 hp. If you want the top-shelf hardware — including the Quattro all-wheel drive system and the DSG automatic-manual gearbox — you have to step up to the 3.2-liter TT, starting at $45,900, which puts its price inconveniently close to the all-but-irresistible Porsche Boxster and even the Chevrolet Corvette.

Off-the-line performance is respectable — 0-60 in 6 seconds, I judge — and the thing sails along at 80 mph in sixth gear, inhaling glorious gouts of sunshine. The big ventilated disc brakes scrub speed beautifully. And, for sure, a Victorian four-post bed would handle well if you put these wonderful Continental tires on it.
But sports car? Uh, no. The car is nose heavy, and that plus the suspension and Quattro conspire to make it push like a road grader. Drive within the car's limits and it's a beautiful thing. It has good bite, nice transitional manners and a supple ride. Exceed those limits and the car gets clumsy, quick.
So, the big-engined TT is more touring car than sports car. It makes an exquisite design statement, but it makes it best from the right lane.


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