Weekly Motor Fix: Audi RS6 Avant

15 June, 2016

As far as good ideas go, buying a 13-year-old German performance car with nearly 200,000km on the clock — after a long, thirst-quenching lunch — is quite low on the list. But I’m not known for my decision-making abilities and sometimes, just sometimes, bad decisions make good stories.

The vehicle in question is a 2003 Audi RS6 Avant. I was able to justify the purchase with that final word. Surely, if I was able to fit a dog and a pram with enough space left for the groceries, I could get away with calling this a sensible car.

I have a love affair with performance cars from around the turn of the century. One of the main reasons being the eye-watering depreciation they’ve suffered over the years thereby making them relatively affordable cars. The RS6 was around $180,000 out of the box. I picked this one up for pretty close to $20K. Now, I understand why old cars are cheap. They’re unreliable, they become expensive to run, and they may have been abused non-stop for their entire lives, meaning that the gearbox may fall out of the car at any moment. But that doesn’t detract from the fact that this car is still a bucket of fun, it’s ridiculously fast, and it looks fantastic.

I’ve coveted a C5 RS6 for as long as they’ve been around. Many moons ago, when I was required to wear a tie to work, I owned a 4.2 V8 C5 Audi A6. The A6 wasn’t an amazing car — it wasn’t all that quick, it looked like it had been raised up a few inches, and it was dreadfully thirsty. I only owned it for a couple of months until I realized I was trying to fit into a corporate world that I despised. So I sold it, left my job, and got a Subaru Legacy GTB with a manual gearbox (a fun car that was a sucker for punishment).

Fifteen years ago, large station wagons were, for the most part, still the vestige of the family man. In New Zealand, owning a big wagon generally meant having 500 litres of boot space dangling over the rear axle of a Holden or a Ford provided by your employer. For the lucky few (mainly the well-heeled of the ladies of the leafier suburbs), there was a number of slightly more sporty, although still bulbous, European estate cars on offer.

But soon, a new breed of family coveted the practicality offered by a big wagon. One with a desire to get from A to B in a great hurry in a cacophony of sound and enormously flared wheel arches. 

The RS6 was the fourth car released by Quattro GmbH (the wholly owned Audi subsidiary, which I’m sure can be called a ‘skunkworks’). It followed on from their joint venture with Porsche to create the timeless (and still quicker to 100 than the current RS4) RS2, followed by the original (and again, still damn quick) RS4. They also flirted with a large, fast wagon with the end-of-run C4 body shape in 1997, producing just fewer than 1000 models of an S6 Plus. Powered by a 322hp (240kw) V8 engine, these cars were brilliant and proved their mettle. Audi knew there was also an opportunity to create what would become their cornerstone car — a fire-spitting, deep-growling monster to appeal to the bogan encased in a polished suit, therefore, the RS6 was born.

Built as a sedan and a wagon on the end-of-line C5 A6 platform, the RS6 was fitted with a 450hp (335kw) twin-turbo V8 engine. Paired with a five-speed automatic gearbox with steering wheel–mounted paddles, this car was built for a market with a very heavy right foot, and also one who wanted to take on B roads like nothing else. Hitting 100kph in 4.7 seconds and carrying on to god knows what without a limiter, the RS6 made its mark.

Still today, the old RS6 is quick on the road. Really bloody quick. Back roads are eaten up and the early-but-advanced Quattro system proves some serious technical nous in a time when tech was limited but nous was high. Buyers of new RS models take for granted the fact that their cars will do everything at warp speed without considering a loss of traction, but way back when, this was a new phenomenon. Microsecond decisions by on-board computers meant that each wheel was distributed power when it needed it, thereby keeping lead foots on the road all around the world.

I’ve loved owning the RS6. Sure, it had a few unseen issues that have cost me the best part of a week staying at a Hawaiian resort drinking $19 cocktails, but I’ve had almost as much fun as that would provide, too.

I’m going to let the RS6 go soon as I have my eye on another piece of (slightly more modern) motoring history …
 
Note: The vehicle featured isn’t the referenced car above, but another one I got my hands on through a trade with an E55 AMG (another brilliant turn-of-the-century car we may feature another time).

NZ Classic Car magazine, September/October 2026 issue 407, on sale now

We love bugs!
A bit of TLC that became a major restoration
The 1302S, or ‘Super Beetle’ as it became known, was built for two years before it, too, was replaced by a further-enhanced Beetle, the 1303, continuing an amazing 65-year lineage for one of the World’s best-known shapes.
The world’s best-selling single-model vehicle, the VW Beetle, possibly established another record for the amount of controversy it has created since the inception of the Type 1.
In a meeting with Hitler in June 1934, Ferdinand Porsche was contracted to build a ‘People’s Car’ that could accommodate two adults and three children, was air-cooled and simple to maintain, and could cruise economically at moderate speed along Germany’s proposed new Autobahns.
Our feature car, a 1972 1302S ‘Super Beetle’, was found by Dave and Michelle Dickie in Mosgiel a few years back. It was a runner, but like most VWs of this age, it needed a little TLC. They were looking for a daily driver for Michelle when they first came upon the VW being sold locally on behalf of its owner.
“The owner offered it to his grandchildren, and they didn’t want it, so he got the guy out at Mosgiel in the Mobil petrol station to sell it for him, and he put it on Trade Me for them. We never met the owner, and we were always dealing with the guy at the petrol station. We put a bid on it, and we were the only people that bid on it.”
Their bid was eventually successful, eight years ago. Not knowing much of the history, in situations like that, it’s always a risk buying a car, but they were in for a bit of a surprise.

The other Q car

Say the word ‘bond’ to anyone in the street and around 80 per cent straight away think of pop culture’s least-secret secret agent. The other 20 per cent may think of the wad of cash required to secure a flat or hire equipment that one gets back providing the fixtures and fittings stay much as they were.
However, mention ‘bond’ in specialist classic car circles and people will spin a very different yarn. If you dig deep enough, you will find an eccentric British carmaker that, throughout its 23 years in business, spawned some quirky and charming little cars.
The company was founded by Paul Sharp in 1922 under the name of Sharp’s Commercials Limited. However, the company did not start producing cars until 1948. The first car to carry the Bond name was the Bond Minicar. A three-wheeled, soft-top, two-cylinder eco car, the Minicar was a big hit at the time as the desire for an economical urban runabout that didn’t attract four-wheel car tax was strong in post-war Britain. All in all, 34,285 Minicars were produced over 26 years in a variety of variants.