A white elephant it may have been, but for Nick Ryan it's a grey beauty. He talks about his DeLorean to Oonagh Charleton
A fridge or a DMC-12? Hmmm . . . let's see! A V6 2,849cc with 145 bhp at 5,500 rpm or a compact fridge with built-in freezer and tasteful white exterior panelling?
A chassis engineered by Lotus, styled by Giugiaro with brushed stainless steel body or an extra vegetable shelf with capabilities of 0° - 4°C?
I think I'd go for the DeLorean, (although I do need a new fridge) as did Dublin-based Nick Ryan with his DMC-12. And as did Stephen Spielberg on Back to the Future over 16 years ago in a last-minute toss-up on what would feature as Marty Mc Fly's "time machine".
The on-set fridge was changed to John DeLorean's DMC-12 because Spielberg worried that kids worldwide would jump into their fridges and freezers to mimic squeaky hero Michael J Fox.
So, the DeLorean drove into the history books, portrayed as everybody's fantasy car. The blazing success of the movie preserved the DMC-12 as a mythic car in the face of one of the most controversial company collapses in the history of the motor industry.
In 1980, the high-living and high-rolling world of supercars descended on the dark streets of Belfast. There, in the midst of eight-wheeler Saracens and the beginning of the hunger strikes, John Z DeLorean, started the first of a two-year production cycle that would end in utter ruination.
Many argue that the DMC was spawned in revenge against GM for forcing his resignation over alleged irregularities and the egotistical desire to build an empire that would meet GM competitively in global markets.
Cash flow almost instantly became a problem for the new company and DeLorean sought investment and funding deals with several governments.
The British took the bait and offered over $134 million in grants and loans on the condition that DeLorean set up in Northern Ireland. What they didn't realise was that the DeLorean approach was to stockpile orders instead of building to dealers' orders.
On top of that, the quality of the cars, built by an inexperienced workforce, suffered to the point that many had to be rebuilt in California.
Although huge production targets had been set, only 8,583 DMC-12s were built. When a 1982 stock deal worth $27 million fell though, it became apparent to the British government that the company was floundering. DeLorean declared bankruptcy, production came to a standstill and a saga of revelations involving corruption, controversy, cocaine and corporate skulduggery began.
Nick Ryan's rear-mounted DMC-12, which sits on a Lotus-designed double-Y backbone frame chassis, has all the standard DeLorean features including a penchant for attention seeking, to which Nick isn't partial.
"The biggest problem for me in owning a sports car is the opposite of what people think the advantages should be." Nearly every time Nick drives his car, he has to fend off curious onlookers and $64-million questions such as "Where's the cocaine?" - or the milder "where d'ya get parts for dah!?"
It's not that he doesn't like talking about it, but it just gets to a point where he can't go about his business. "Sometimes I just pretend it isn't mine. I don't like it for the flash aspect."
Nick is philosophical about the car's reputation and indeed the kind of attention paid to the DeLorean's past, liking it as an object, a nice possession and a visual treat. "It's a visual thing for me. It's like a chameleon - it changes with the light and the environment. I believe that it's a car built for beautiful sunsets, so a grey dull Irish day never really does it justice."
So, if it's not a desire to re-live the 1980s dream, where did all this start? It was 1995 and only the second time Nick sat in a DeLorean. As a 12-year-old, he accompanied his uncle who supplied paper to the Belfast factory, opened up the gullwing doors, slid into the driver's bucket seat, on the left-hand side, and liked it enough to recognise it in a certain movie trailer several years later.
"When I say I'm going to do something I just do it," he says. "I'm very impetuous." So, when a friend saw a DeLorean advertised near Cookstown, Co Tyrone, for £10,000, Nick snapped it up.
Problems with cooling systems and seized components were dealt with rapidly. Like most DeLoreans, body rust is negligible because of its impervious stainless steel. The main decay issues lie within the chassis: salted roads, especially in the North and in Britain, can cause corrosion from the inside out.
"I would drive it more in the summer months," explains Nick. "It really isn't a great car in the rain."
Visibility is another issue. Driving the DMC-12 is like "looking through a letter box". The A-pillars can be quite obtrusive.
A great advantage of its overall body structure is the occasionally criticised but visually impressive gull-wing doors, which need only 14 inches to open in a parking space compared to your average motor's 40 inches.
Nick's other car is a 2.5l Pajero jeep, but he hankers after a Maserati Bora, also designed by Giugiaro who worked on the Lotus Esprit and the more humble Volkswagen Scirocco.
For those interested in the glorious prospect of ownership, DMC-12s are quite difficult to get in Ireland. Most of the estimated 6,000 left are in the United States.
However, the most expensive DeLorean in the world is now up for sale in Texas for $175,000, if anyone is interested. One of two 24-carat gold plated DMC-12s with zero miles on the clock and zero fingerprints on the body work is sitting alone in a distant bank foyer.