Words Carlo Brema / Photos Fulvio Ferraro

The Toyota Celica Turbo 4WD Carlos Sainz is one of those cars you never forget. One look is enough to understand that it’s not just another 1990s sports car, but a true piece of World Rally history. A machine born to compete and only later tamed just enough for road use. Today it is something to be revered, a car that takes you back to an era when automobiles had character, noise and a clearly defined soul. And as we know, the Japanese have always understood what it takes to cement a car’s image and make it immortal.

It all began in the early 90s, when Toyota was enjoying a golden era in the World Rally Championship. With the Celica ST185, the Japanese manufacturer captured the hearts of fans and dominated special stages around the world, thanks in part to the talent of Carlos Sainz, who won two world titles with the car. To honor the Spanish driver and comply with Group A homologation rules, Toyota decided to build a special numbered series of 5,000 units. Only around 400 made it to Italy — some say even fewer — and owning one today is an absolute privilege.

Technically speaking, the Celica Turbo 4WD Carlos Sainz was far more than a sporty car with a few aerodynamic add-ons and a willingness to rev to the limiter. Under the hood lay the 2.0-liter turbocharged four-cylinder 3S-GTE engine with an air-to-water intercooler — a sophisticated solution for its time. Official output was around 204 horsepower, but the real magic took place in the torque, the linear delivery, and the permanent all-wheel-drive system with Torsen differential. Behind the wheel, it didn’t suffer from the annoying turbo lag typical of its contemporaries; instead, it climbed steadily through the rev range, reaching 0–100 kph in under 8 seconds. Today that figure may seem almost leisurely, but what you feel from the driver’s seat — that goosebump-inducing sensation of the raw chassis beneath you — tells a very different story. More than outright speed, it was the sense of control that mattered, the confidence with which the Celica tackled every corner. It wasn’t built for drag-strip sprints, but it was the perfect companion for twisty roads, those reminiscent of classic rally stages and legendary nighttime touge runs.

The styling speaks the same language: vented hood, deep bumpers, pop-up headlights and a compact yet muscular stance. There were no unnecessary flourishes, only functional details, as if every line had a technical purpose. Once again, Japanese precision and dedication added real value. Inside, the height-adjustable steering wheel already felt like a small luxury and it’s remarkable to think that over thirty years ago Toyota had already implemented ergonomic solutions we now take for granted.

To truly understand what a “Carlos Sainz” represents, however, you have to listen to those who live with one every day. Fulvio, a rally enthusiast from Liguria (northern Italy), is one of the lucky few. His passion was born in the 80s, when the Rally di Sanremo was a permanent appointment of the world championship calendar, and he never missed an edition. Today he keeps a dream collection in his garage: Lancia Delta Integrale, Ford Sierra RS Cosworth, Peugeot 205 GTI, Peugeot 405 Mi16 and naturally three Celicas (yes, three!), including his beloved white Carlos Sainz edition.

“It’s a feast for the eyes,” he says — and it’s hard to disagree. He has kept it original, with only a few reversible modifications, preserving every factory part. He doesn’t describe it as an extreme car, but as a machine with substance, capable of delivering strong and consistent thrust without the sudden punch typical of older turbocharged sports cars. When he drives it along the roads of Colle del Melogno, a historic testing ground for official rally teams, he says he can still smell the burnt fuel — the same scent that accompanied his youthful memories among rally bends.

Fulvio agrees with us completely: “Today’s young people are missing out on something.” For him, true sports cars ended in the early 2000s, when electronics and safety began to overshadow raw emotion. “The old ones were stiff, noisy, even uncomfortable, but they had a heart. Each had a distinct character, recognizable at first glance or first roar. Today many cars all seem the same.” And although the Toyota GR Yaris can be considered the Celica’s spiritual successor, he regards it with a certain detachment, maybe because that missing cylinder takes away a bit of the magic.

Driving a Carlos Sainz today means living an experience that goes beyond speed. It means feeling the mechanics converse with the road, sensing every vibration through the steering wheel and every surge of the turbo. It’s a car that doesn’t forgive carelessness, but once you learn to respect it, it rewards you with a direct, physical connection that is exceedingly rare in modern cars. He knows it well and he speaks about it with that unmistakable light in his eyes that only true enthusiasts understand. From a collector’s standpoint, the Celica CS is now a model to take very seriously and not merely because of its limited production numbers.

The Carlos Sainz edition is all of this: a symbol of an era when cars were built with the intention of stirring emotion. It’s a reminder of what driving truly means: an invitation to rediscover the pleasure of mechanics, of all-wheel drive pulling you out of corners with determination, of a turbocharger delivering decisive thrust. And when you see one on the road, white with its pop-up headlights rising from the hood, you immediately remember why we are hopelessly in love with every high-performance machine born from that golden era, when rally cars and their road-going counterparts shared far more than just a name. The Melogno road can confirm it: if you listen closely beyond the rustling leaves, you might still hear the roar of a GT-Four hitting the limiter, gear after gear.