What is it?
Confession time: despite the fact we're a sage motoring outlet and we're obviously supposed to know every last thing about every car that has ever been made, we had no idea this thing even existed before we saw it, cruising gently out of a German car park and looking thoroughly magnificent as it went. Its full name is the Mazda Luce R130, if you're asking, and it has a special place in the canon of Mazda's lengthy lineage of Wankel (stop sniggering, please) power units. The Luce is a long-running series of luxury saloon and estate cars from Mazda which dates back to 1966, which eventually became the 929 family, but this particular glory is the coupe model of 1969.
Made for three short years, the 'R130' denotes that it was the first Luce to gain a rotary engine and it remains, to date, the only vehicle produced in Mazda's history that uses the marque's signature non-piston powerplant to drive the front wheels, rather than the rears. The bodywork was penned by a man you might have heard of, some Italian fella by the name of Giorgetto Giugiaro from the styling house Bertone, and the rotary unit used in the 'Lord of the Road' was a 13A twin-chamber developing a healthy 126hp and 172Nm. Less than 1,000 Luce R130s were built in total and they were all kept for the Japanese domestic market; hence why this Dutch-registered ex-pat heritage car is right-hand drive, as it is one of the smattering of exports that have been whisked away from Mazda's homeland over the decades.
Why are you driving it?
It was part of the Mazda 100th birthday celebrations in Augsburg, Germany, home of the Frey Classic Automobile Museum collection of vehicles. For our brief day with these assorted vintage Japanese glories, the esoteric Luce spent almost all its time being pampered and photographed for a specialist magazine feature about rare-groove classic cars. But, right at the end of the day, with the early evening light turning a buttery amber and Mazda's tireless support crew packing things away at the conclusion of the driving activities, the R130 was sitting there in the car park, its keys dangling in the ignition and no one paying it any attention. Criminal. Some subsequent unseemly grovelling on our behalf to the lovely person in charge of the heritage fleet allowed us the shortest of short runs in the Luce, but as we'll probably never get a chance to drive one again then a brief encounter is better than no encounter at all, eh?
Is it any good these days?
It's exquisite. There's a mechanical solidity to every part of the Luce's drivetrain, while the suspension flaunts an unworldly grace that speaks volumes of its independent set-up at all four corners - highly advanced, for the R130's day. Mazda's period four-speed gearbox, one we would use many times in other vehicles on the same day as we drove this sophisticated beauty, was in the late 1960s clearly already showing signs of how the company would master the positive throw of a manual transmission in the years to come, while the 13A engine is a jewel; velvet-smooth and possessing enough power, still, to propel the Mazda Luce off down the road with a real briskness and vim. The R130's performance is also overlaid with that oh-so-distinctive and oh-so-divine buzz that is the hallmark of twin rotors going about their business in the physically tiny powerplant.
As you'll understand, we hardly spent four hours behind the impeccable, thin-rimmed steering wheel, throwing the Luce into corners with disdain and muttering under our breath about 'body roll' and 'interior haptics'. Frankly, we were so giddy with excitement at commanding such an unexpected unicorn that it was all we could do to focus on the way it drove, rather than just cooing quietly over its luscious interior; look! It has an 8-track stereo! And a gorgeous metal fascia, bearing the legend 'Luce Rotary Coupe' on the passenger side! Oh... where were we? Ah, yes. Well, if we could discern any slight issues with the Luce R130, it was that the steering felt heavy and slow, making low-speed manoeuvring a bit ponderous and ensuring that you have to think carefully about your velocity and your steering inputs when approaching junctions and roundabouts. But these were minor qualms; we might not have known much about the Luce beforehand, but in the space of 20 minutes with it we were thoroughly bedazzled by its easy-going charms. We'd like to have a much, much longer drive it in next time please, Mazda.
Is it a genuine classic, or just some mildly interesting old biffer?
Now this is a tough call. In the weights and measures of this car, things that seemingly count for it - such as its three-digit production numbers and its pioneering, unique place in the Mazda rotary story - could just as easily trim its status in 2020 back from the realm of bona fide classic; because it isn't really widely known to collectors and aficionados (like, er, us) outside of Japan and it sends the power from its rotary engine to the 'wrong' axle when compared to something like an RX-7.
Nevertheless, the impossibly pretty Bertone bodywork and the fact it's a car which requires some deeper understanding of the 1960s motoring industry in order to correctly frame its place in history sees us happily promoting it into the 'genuine classic' category. The Luce R130 is a stunning, stunning thing and it would be wonderful to own one. If only they weren't so flippin' hard to get hold of in this day and age.
The numbers
Model tested: 1969 Mazda Luce R130
Price: N/A as never available when new in the UK - 1969 DX model was ¥1,450,000 (c.£37,500, inflation-adjusted for 2020 and at current exchange rates) and Super DX was ¥1,750,000 (c.£45,265, inflation-adjusted for 2020 and at current exchange rates) in Japan; used examples today from £17,500 to £30,000, if you can find one...
Build period: 1969-1972
Build numbers: 976
Engine: 13A 1.3-litre twin-chamber rotary engine
Transmission: front-wheel drive, four-speed manual
Body style: two-door coupe
Combined economy: c.17.5mpg
Top speed: 118mph
0-62mph: 8.3 seconds
Power: 126hp at 6,000rpm
Torque: 172Nm at 3,500rpm
Weight: 1,185kg
