Lowering the doors and driving in complete open air with the wind brushing against your sides, creates an almost moving intimacy with the road. It’s a car designed to awaken dormant emotions, an experience that today feels even more precious.

Words Matteo Lavazza / Photos Alessandro Marrone

Some cars born to sell. Others, to win. And then there are those that arrive with the sole purpose of making us dream. The BMW Z1 belongs to this last and very rare category. It wasn’t created to meet a market need, nor to follow a passing trend. It was a pure experiment, a visionary idea that took shape in metal — or rather in plastic — and left a deep mark in automotive history. A mark that, more than thirty years later, still makes enthusiasts’ hearts beat faster. Everyone knows it as the car with the disappearing doors. Abracadabra and there you have it. No one has ever replicated this unusual solution.

We’re in the second half of the 1980s and BMW is experiencing a period of strong growth, buoyed by the success of the E30 3 Series and the 5 Series. But the company’s leadership felt the need to explore new territories. So in 1985, a special department was created with a simple yet evocative name: BMW Technik GmbH. A kind of secret laboratory where engineers and designers could work without constraints, dreaming with their eyes open. The first fruit of this creative freedom was the Z1. A roadster conceived not so much for commercial success but to test innovative materials, bold technical solutions and a new way of imagining the relationship between driver and machine. The name? “Z” as “Zukunft,” which means “future” in German. A declaration of intent.

The first time you see a BMW Z1, you can’t help but stop and stare. It has an almost alien aura. Its lines are soft, fluid, devoid of sharp edges, with tall sculpted sides that look as if they were molded from water, especially in the exceptional Urgrün Metallic color of the example brought by Pietro, one of the two friends joining us today along the Panoramica di Superga, just minutes from the busy center of Turin. But it’s only as you get closer that you notice the first real shock: the doors don’t open outward like on any other car. They slide downward, disappearing into the body with an electric whir that feels incredible, considering we’re in 1989. As spectacular as it is delicate, this mechanism is the focal point around which the first thoughts about this little-known model begin to take shape.

And then there’s the bodywork. Not sheet metal, but thermoformed plastic: light and flexible. Polyurethane panels and composite materials mounted on a galvanized steel frame that serves as a backbone. A car that can be “disassembled” and re-skinned in another color, almost like a toy for grown-ups. No other production car had (or has) such a modular structure. The result was exceptional corrosion resistance and a lightness that enhanced driving pleasure. You could even make it multicolored by swapping specific panels for others in different shades, in case you want to attract even more attention.

But beneath that unusual skin, the Z1 was also an engineering hotbed. The chassis was a galvanized steel monocoque produced with techniques then unheard of in the automotive industry. The lower section, a rigid composite tub, added rigidity and safety. The whole car was designed to be solid, yet easy to repair and modify. And the mechanics? BMW played it safe but didn’t give up character. Under the hood was a 2.5-liter inline-six, the same engine found in the E30 325i: 170 well-behaved and reliable horses. Then put into the equation a five-speed manual transmission and rear-wheel drive, as per Bavarian tradition. Some might say the power was a bit modest, but despite weighing 1,408 kg (you thought it was lighter too, right?), the Z1 has that little something that makes the driving experience complete. Doors up or down — no matter — you feel the road flowing just centimeters beneath and that alone makes it a car for true driving lovers. The real leap forward, though, was at the rear axle: the Z1 was the first BMW to use the “Z-Achse” multilink suspension system, which offered grip and dynamic behavior far superior to the standards of the time. A solution that would later become common on many 1990s BMWs. I told you it was fun.

Driving a Z1 is a unique experience. Not so much for its acceleration (0–100 kph in about 7.9 seconds — great, though not supercar territory), but for the sensations it delivers. Lowering the doors and driving in complete open air with the wind brushing against your sides, creates an almost moving intimacy with the road. It’s a car designed to awaken dormant emotions, an experience that today feels even more precious. The perfect 50:50 weight distribution and the direct, precise steering do the rest. Every corner invites you to play; every straight is a chance to regroup before the next turn. Even the interior reflects this philosophy. The seats, integrated into the structure, were covered in waterproof fabric and leather, designed to withstand open-air use. The dashboard was simple but well-finished, with everything within easy reach. Minimalistic but functional. No frills, just substance.

The curves of Superga are the ideal playground and the dense greenery provides just enough shade to cope with the summer heat. Pietro (green Z1) and Davide (black Z1) are enthusiasts and collectors who share a passion for this peculiar model and two very different stories, reunited by their awareness of owning something unique, a car that continues to grow in value both economically and culturally, so far removed from the more conservative spirit of the later Z models (mainly the Z3 and Z4).

Pietro purchased his one almost as a fallback option, after an unlucky hunt for a Pagoda SL he just couldn’t manage to get into his garage. Davide’s car has been in the family for longer, though it was only truly appreciated over time, so much so that he chose it as his wedding-day car. Ironically, that very morning he couldn’t remember how to release the soft top, so he called Emanuele (Pietro’s son), who wished him “a nice drive,” unaware that Davide was about to drive in one of his most precious day of his life. Their smiles tell this story and the carefree spirit of a car that lets you brush the asphalt with your fingertips, uncaring, for once, whether performance figures top the priority list.

The Z1 was never meant to be a long-term model. BMW announced from the outset that production would be limited and so it was: just 8,000 units between 1989 and 1991. Most were sold in Germany, with very few leaving Europe. The price at the time was high — around 83,000 Deutschmarks — but buyers knew they were taking home a piece of the future. Today, those same cars are among the most sought-after youngtimers on the market. The main goal — which BMW achieved perfectly — was to build on a broader scale a sort of production concept car: a real-world project aimed at testing solutions that might one day shape the brand’s future. The emotional involvement was simply a bonus born from the bold vision conceived in Munich.

The sun is scorching and the suffocating heat seems relentless. Roof open, windows down and even the doors are lowered. To hell with air conditioning. Today, sweating is part of the fun, because feeling the air sweep against your sides is priceless. It’s rare stuff, for connoisseurs. It’s the first official glimpse of BMW’s unsuspected Zukunft.