Idle Hands: Audi TT

I didn’t want to get my hands that dirty, nor did I want to burn money. I wanted a sound example I could just drive and use. Partly because, and you might have had similar thoughts if you’ve looked at them before, I wasn’t even sure I’d enjoy the TT experience. I’d read the reviews, and heard people slate the car’s handling and character, but I needed to find out for myself. And this was a quattro Sport: the more powerful, lighter, dialled-up edition of the four-cylinder variant, with the punchier bodywork from the rorty V6 model. Adding to its allure, only 800 were sold in the UK.

Fortunately, I had an ace in the hole that alleviated some concerns. Having inspected the car, I’d found the owner’s manual in the glove box. And, folded neatly inside it, dated a few months prior, was an invoice for a service. And not just an oil and filter change. The garage that had been looking after the car for years, just before it was released to the dealer, had done everything barring changing the Haldex fluid and filter.

I mulled my options. That single sheet of A4 minimised some of my potential expenditure, but the car was still an unknown quantity. And the dealer gruffly refused to budge, on any front. But, sensing a diamond in the rough, I decided the undisclosed invoice represented my discount, and bought the TT for £4000. This was in 2016, before you ask, when values weren’t what they are today. And with air in its tyres, and fresh fuel in its tank, after a solid day’s cleaning and resolving minor issues, I had myself a smart, serviceable two-seat sports coupé, one that’d do 0-62mph in 5.9 seconds.

First, the positives. The TT caused a sensation at its 1998 launch, in part because it retained the lines of the stylish concept of 1995, and I did like the way it looked. I also appreciated the snug, high-quality cabin, and its feeling of solidity. It was a quick car, too, and swept from point to point without fuss, aided by its traction-boosting quattro system. It was also compact, practical, and comfortable, and I didn’t have any significant concerns about reliability or repairs. These days, if I’d spent £4000 on a Boxster, I’d be considerably twitchier.

Alas, and you may already be ahead of the curve here, I soon discovered its detractors knew of which they spoke: the Audi was dull. It was surefooted and swift, but staid. And the engine too anodyne. Yes, the exterior and the interior were great, but that wasn’t enough. I wanted something more evocative and compelling, not leaden and numb. A few others drove the car and concluded similarly, so it wasn’t just me. All told, I felt I’d experienced all I needed to very quickly so, a few months later, I moved it on.

Perhaps I was a little hasty. Sure, it shared its platform with the Mk4 Volkswagen Golf, which even in GTI form was as dynamically gratifying as filing a tax return. Yes, the four-cylinder options were drab in delivery and noise. And, admittedly, its stablemate at the time was a 1968 Dodge Charger, with a 440 cubic inch motor, figuratively and literally dwarfing the TT. It was subsequently easy to paint a harsh picture of the Audi back then, to find it humdrum.

Now, that picture’s a bit different. For one thing, the TT continues to represent something of a bargain, considering its blend of design, quality, and performance. Take the common 222bhp 1.8T quattro variant, often just dubbed the 225 for its output in metric horsepower, for example: it’ll do 0-62mph in 6.6 seconds, return sensible economy figures, and you can pick up really sorted cars for less than £5000. A lot less, in some cases, especially if you go for a 177bhp TT, the 180, which’ll get from 0-62mph in 8.2 seconds in standard trim.

That kind of coin doesn’t get you far in the land of notable and usable cars these days. And not everyone takes satisfaction from the same factors. You might drive a TT and enjoy it just as it sits, especially if it’s in fine fettle, and there might be elements to it you’ve not encountered before, making it more engrossing. But if it doesn’t grab you, or you’re concerned about the lack of engagement in the longer term, don’t skip straight past immediately: there’s a wealth of options out there, allowing you to transform the car from subdued to stimulating.

On reflection, I don’t think it would have taken much to make the TT more to my liking. I’d give the 3.2-litre VR6 option a swerve, as while it’s an intriguing mini-GT, and sounds great, it’s even heavier and can suffer from costly timing chain problems. So I’d start with a serviceable 225. The first upgrade would be a cone filter from a Honda S2000 to unlock some intake noise, and a Badger5 turbo intake pipe. Then, a used downpipe and exhaust, nothing obtrusive, to add to the theatre. After, a better intercooler, to keep things in check. Inside? A cheap short-shift kit, to boost tactility.

Then I’d get the car tuned on a rolling road. It’s relatively easy to gain another 30bhp and 40lb ft or so without much risk, but steer clear of anything near 300lb ft, as the stock rods may turn into pretzels. Yes, there are off-the-shelf remaps, but these are old cars: a weak fuel pump, clogged fuel filter, lazy injector, dying coil, boost problems, and the rest, could ruin your day, and your engine, without someone reacting to and diagnosing issues on the fly.

I couldn’t, of course, leave the rather lame handling alone. There are a lot of sensibly priced spring and damper options out there, which will readily ramp up the TT’s dynamic charms, especially when coupled with a proper alignment. Throw in some bracing, braided brake lines, better pads, a little weight reduction, a relocated battery for better balance, and a cheap rear seat delete kit, and you’d have something akin to a quattro Sport, albeit noisier and livelier, without the premium.

Some of you may also remember that earlier TTs were known for being more alert and energetic. Unfortunately, a few were involved in high-speed accidents and Audi subsequently rolled out suspension tweaks and electronic stability control, along with an optional no-cost rear spoiler in the UK, to make the car safer. In doing so, a lot of that initial verve seemed to disappear. But if you pick parts carefully, you can reinstate some of it. Take Cookbots, for example: suspension arm inserts that accept smaller bushes, improving the TT’s steering feel and response.

I’d also look at the Haldex system. You can buy a Powertrack Insert that modifies the way the clutch set behaves, bringing the rear wheels into play more quickly and aggressively, for around £80. You could even invest in a Haldex controller, allowing for more customisation, but they’re not cheap. However, because TTs are so numerous, along with the cars with which they share countless parts, there are plenty of used bits out there. You can subsequently tinker to your heart’s content, and build an Audi TT that you enjoy, without spending a fortune.

One last thing. If you set your sights on a quattro Sport, do aim for one with the Recaro Pole Position seats. The optional leather heated sports seats, unless you need and want something more relaxing, severely dent the bespoke and sporting feel of the hot TT. Don’t fall into the trap of thinking you can pick up a sensibly priced used pair: the last set I saw for sale went for £2850. The Audi I bought didn’t have them and I always regretted it. Sometimes, it’s worth holding out for the right car in the right specification, even if the deal in front of you is tempting.