1990 Lotus Esprit Turbo SE Is Here for a Good Time, Not a Long Time

From the December 1989 issue of Car and Driver.Drug czar William Bennett should be told: this may be a controlled substance. It’s imported in small quantities. It’s out­rageously expensive. It’s dangerously addictive. Friends and neighbors queue up to obtain a few minutes of its … of its what? Status? Luxury? Nope. It’s the speed buzz that hooks them, and it seems entirely possible we may all get busted for “conspiracy to deal rides.”In this case, the controlled substance is the Lotus Esprit Turbo SE, a cuneiform conveyance that, even at rest, is as guilty-­looking as a Gulfstream jet on an un­marked Everglades airstrip. Those who recall our previous encounters with Es­prit Turbos July 1986 and June 1988) may also remember that we recorded some truly addictive acceleration num­bers. Well, forget all of those numbers, because Lotus is now dealing a purer, more potent narcotic. The SE suffix stand for “Special Equipment” (although “Speed Everlast­ing” or “Salaciously Enticing” may be more appropriate). This is the fastest Lo­tus ever to roll out of Hethel. Well, the fastest street-legal Lotus. Nelson Piquet’s Formula 1 car is no doubt more tightly wound, although it has no brown Connolly hides with scarlet stitching, no air conditioning, no removable roof pan­el, and no burr-elm inserts. The Lotus Esprit Turbo SE produces 264 hp at 6500 rpm—a 36-hp increase over the standard-issue 1990 Esprit Tur­bo. Of course, the SE package adds twelve grand to the sticker, which works out to $333 per bonus horsepower. But that’s okay. The outlay of extra cash gives you bragging rights to an engine produc­ing 120 hp per liter—the highest specific­output piston engine available to Ameri­can speed addicts. All that from a sixteen-valve 2.2-liter four that, in its mi­nuscule mid-engine cubbyhole, looks about the size of the power- steering pump on a Ford LTD. More on the Lotus EspritTo extract the extra power, Lotus re­vised the induction system, reduced ex­haust back pressure, and incorporated a new distributorless ignition system and a reprogrammed fuel-injection system with two additional injectors. The big change, however, is the air-to-liquid inter­cooler added between the turbo and the intake manifold. Or, as the Brits insist we call it, a “charge cooler.” (Which is actu­ally a more accurate description, much as “water closet” is more accurate than “rest room.”) Whatever you call it, the antifreeze-filled intercooler extracts heat from the intake charge and transfers it to a heat exchanger that’s part of an im­mense radiator sandwiched in the nose of the car. It is perched forward of the air­-conditioner compressor, which rides in front of the engine radiator, which is flanked on either side by oil coolers. Which means that if you ram the SE nose-first into Uncle Ernie’s garage, you should expect an outpouring that will surpass anything yet seen at the Yokohama International Fluids Fair.
With the turbo’s intake charge suffi­ciently chilled, and with a new, more so­phisticated knock sensor at work, boost is safely increased from the standard Esprit Turbo’s 9.5 psi to the SE’s 12.3 psi. And presto! You’ve got about two horsepower per cubic inch to work with. Which means, in a 2935-pound car, you’ve also got speed. Drop the clutch at 5300 rpm and prepare to have your nose assume the proportions of a ten-pence coin. Sixty miles per hour is yours in 4.8 seconds, a half-second improvement over the non-charge-cooled Esprit we tested earlier. That’s also quicker than a Lamborghini Countach or a Ferrari Testarossa, never mind such moon-calf machinery a the Ferrari 328GTS. (For­give us; you tend to feel smug in a car like this. At stoplights, you look straight ahead and ignore motorists gesticulating for your attention. Do these people ex­pect us to waste fuel and burn rubber in a vulgar display of power? Okay, maybe just one more time.) And yet, you should also keep in mind that the SE’s 0-to-60 and 0-to-100 times, though certainly impressive, are sur­passed by both the Corvette ZR-1 ($58,995) and the Callaway Twin-Turbo Corvette ($71,361). If you see either of those leviathans approaching from astern (you won’t, of course, because you can’t see much of anything through the Esprit’s Lilliputian backlight), pretend to fiddle urgently with the radio. More From the ArchiveAstonishingly, you can continue fid­dling with the radio right up to the SE’s top speed of 163 mph. Few cars in recent memory, including the Testarossa, feel as secure, as pinned to the road, at post­-century-and-a-half speeds. Steering cor­rections are minimal—a real improvement over previous Esprits. The glory, says Lotus, goes in equal parts to minor geometry and spring-rate changes, to the unique Eagle ZR tires (fifteen-inch-diam­eter up front, sixteen-inch in back), to the SE’s special “bib” (the Brit’s disarming description of the deep front air dam), and to the stabilizing effects of the new rear wing. Aesthetically, the wing looks like something the Lotus guys picked up through a J.C. Whitney catalog, and it of­fers the added nuisance of bifurcating the backlight. You find yourself sizing up police cruisers as “above wing” (Dodge Diplomat, within 100 yards) or “below wing” (Mustang GT, a quarter-mile off). Of course, given a car that can nearly triple the double-nickel in less time than it takes to microwave an Oscar Mayer wiener, you also need great brakes. Alas, our Esprit SE required 194 feet to haul itself from 70 mph to a standstill. And this particular Esprit’s braking figure is no fluke; it is within a few feet of the stops we recorded in both previous Loti. Part of the problem is quirky brake propor­tioning; part of the problem is the egre­gious absence of ABS.
Lotus Esprit Turbo SEs are hand­built. Like all such cars, their build quali­ty is as unpredictable as Roseanne Barr’s diction. During its 2700-mile life with us, the SE’s gear-shift knob pulled free, the striker plate on the rear hatch had to be readjusted three times, the throttle link­age fell out of adjustment, and the shift linkage mysteriously deformed to the ex­tent that entry into first gear demanded a complex heel-and-toe ballet that would have foiled Mikhail Baryshnikov. Fur­thermore, the Esprit’s fiberglass body, like an aging frigate, is still awash in a sea of groans and creaks. The steering wheel still obscures too much of the odd W-­shaped seven-gauge instrument panel. And one of the left-side air vents blows nowhere except onto the underside of the instrument nacelle. So what? Kim Basinger probably also grows an occasional pimple. We can for­give a few imperfections. But whenever we sat down to discuss the Lotus Esprit Turbo SE, there inevitably loomed a greater concern: what about the funky feel of a four-cylinder engine in an $80,000 car? Upon start-up, the engine shakes like a wet springer spaniel, bumping and generally vibrating like something that might better be found­—and heard—under the hood of a domestic subcompact. And low-rpm torque is merely satisfactory—not what you’d expect in a vehicle that bills itself as a supercar. It isn’t until the turbo spools up at 3000 rpm that the Lotus feels as if it had just been fired out of the sixteen-­inch cannon atop the USS Iowa. Unless you’re willing to perform Garlits-quality burnouts, do not enter into impromptu drag races that last only 100 feet or so, or your nephew’s jacked-up Z28 will put the Esprit SE on the trailer. Little of which matters, of course, on twisty two-lane country roads, as the Lo­tus snakes and slinks through corners like a ferret in a vineyard. The steering is moderately heavy but racing-car direct; most of the considerable kickback we ex­perienced in previous Esprits has been eradicated. Turn-in is spectacular, right up to the car’s handling limits, where you’ll discover—surprise!—understeer. The front-end push has been dialed in in­tentionally to protect those of us without FIA superlicenses. In a sports car pro­ducing so much power, however, you sometimes lament the loss of throttle-­induced full opposite lock. After 30 minutes or so behind the SE’s wheel, you begin to feel invincible. There seems to be nothing on the road that you can’t pass, particularly in the 55-to-75-mph range. Two cars and a logging truck? No sweat. Exposure in the oncom­ing lane lasts about three seconds. Sub­jectively, the SE feels as fast as anything we’ve ever driven. In part that’s because under ideal conditions—ambient air temperature of 68 degrees and an inter­cooler with its liquid fully chilled—the SE briefly produces as much as 280 hp. And “briefly” is all it takes to be catapulted into the next county. Lotus identifies the SE’s competitors as the Porsche 911 Turbo ($70,975) and Ferrari 328GTS ($83,800), and those are fair targets. In the 0-to-60 and 0-to-100 sweepstakes, this Lotus trounces both. In at-the-limit handling, the Lotus demon­strates little of the twitchiness of the oth­er two. And, with only 121 SEs to be im­ported in 1990, this Esprit is as rare as Tabasco sauce at a Dairy Queen. In short, the SE is an addictive speed buzz once you come to grips with the odd ergonomics and the suspicious build quality. What could be better? Well, ah, there’s a rumor in Hethel that the Cor­vette ZR-1’s 375-hp V-8 may find a home amidships in an Esprit. That would add another 111 hp and only, perhaps, a 300-pound penalty, which raises the power­-to-weight ratio to, what, that of a cruise missile? A Titan rocket? Forget about calling drug czar William Bennett. “Operator, get me the secretary of defense.”CounterpointsWhenever I drive a Lotus, I can’t help but let my thinking go a little askew. After all, indulging in the famed Lotus experience means put­ting up with all manner of contradictions, ironies, and frustrations.Folding yourself into the Esprit SE does something to your brain. You feel as if the whole world were watch­ing—which, actually, it is. Snugged down deep in the cockpit, with the nasal twang of the turbo four-cylinder behind you, you feel obliged to drive as if you and this car had something to prove. The world would never guess, but the hero car has problems. The small-­bore engine has no torque down low, so you’ve got to launch from stop­lights like a drag racer just to keep GTIs from beating you across intersections. The ungraceful clutch-gearbox-throttle setup makes around-town driving a chore. And the climate-control switch panel looks too cheap for a kit car, let alone a megadollar exotic. The SE is no plea­sure to drive unless you do so in short, speedy bursts. The Lotus experience has always been part myth and part reality. Judg­ing by the Esprit SE, I’d say the reality part needs a tuneup. —Rich Ceppos No question about it: the Esprit Tur­bo SE is terrific fun to drive. The en­gine pins you back in the seat, the chassis generates tremendous grip, the wonderfully direct steering pro­vides plenty of feedback, and the brakes erase speed quickly and with­out fade. Throw in the Esprit’s benign handling and you have a thrilling car that allows you to use all of its considerable performance.But the Esprit SE suffers from an­noying compromises. Despite its on­boost power and stirring whine, the turbo four is torqueless down low. The transmission is notchy, the absence of ABS limits braking ability, and, as in all Esprits, cabin room is se­verely limited—especially for tall drivers. For those who can live with these drawbacks, though, the SE is still the closest thing to a track car for the street. If you have the money to in­dulge in big-fun toys, this Lotus is the plaything for you. —Nicholas Bissoon-DathLotus buyers are to Car and Driver readers what Car and Driver readers are to mainstream car buyers. As such, they’re the lunatic fringe of the lunatic fringe. And, frankly, they have to be. Finding fulfillment in this latest Lo­tus means being willing to swallow hook, line, and sinker a design philos­ophy that is extraordinarily single-­minded in its pursuit of efficient per­formance. It means accepting a small, light, turbocharged engine that’s long on high-strung power but short on re­finement. It means buying a swoopy composite body whose weight is low but whose finish quality is too. And, judging by the niggling defects on our car, it means trading off a superb sus­pension for lots of poorly thought-out mechanical bits. It also means parting with $79,500. If you’ve recently signed a petition demanding that the pope canonize the late Colin Chapman, then the Es­prit Turbo SE was made for you. For the rest of us, there are far better supercar choices. —Csaba CsereSpecificationsSpecifications
1990 Lotus Esprit Turbo SE
Vehicle Type: mid-engine, rear-wheel-drive, 2-passenger, 2-door coupe
PRICE

Base/As Tested: $80,645/$80,645
ENGINE
turbocharged and intercooled DOHC 16-valve inline-4, aluminum block and head, port fuel injection
Displacement: 133 in3, 2174 cm3
Power: 264 hp @ 6500 rpm
Torque: 261 lb-ft @ 3900 rpm 
TRANSMISSION[S]
5-speed manual
CHASSIS

Suspension, F/R: control arms/multilink
Brakes, F/R: 10.2-in vented disc/10.8-in disc
Tires: Goodyear Eagle ZR
F: 215/50ZR-15
R: 245/50ZR-16
DIMENSIONS

Wheelbase: 67.8 in
Length: 170.2 in
Width: 73.2 in
Height: 45.7 in
Passenger Volume: 47 ft3
Trunk Volume: 8 ft3
Curb Weight: 2935 lb
C/D TEST RESULTS

60 mph: 4.8 sec
100 mph: 13.0 sec
1/4-Mile: 13.5 sec @ 102 mph
130 mph: 24.4 sec
140 mph: 43.4 sec
Top Gear, 30–50 mph: 12.9 sec
Top Gear, 50–70 mph: 8.1 sec
Top Speed: 163 mph
Braking, 70–0 mph: 194 ft
Roadholding, 300-ft Skidpad: 0.82 g
C/D FUEL ECONOMY

Observed: 15 mpg
EPA FUEL ECONOMY
City/Highway: 17/28 mpg 
C/D TESTING EXPLAINEDJohn Phillips first began writing about cars in 1974, at Car Weekly in Toronto. He later worked for Ford Racing, then served for seven years as the Executive Editor of Car and Driver. In the interim, he has written for Harper’s, Sports Illustrated, The Toronto Globe and Mail, The Cleveland Plain Dealer, and Conde Nast Traveler. He enjoyed a one-on-one interview with Joe Biden and is the author of the true-crime saga God Wants You to Roll and the memoir Four Miles West of Nowhere. In 2007 he won the Ken Purdy Award for journalism. He lives with his wife, Julie, in the Bitterroot Valley.
Source: caranddriver.com