In 1986, a segment aired on CBS’s 60 Minutes that sent shockwaves through the automotive world, particularly for Audi. The report focused on “sudden unintended acceleration” in the Audi 5000, painting a terrifying picture of cars seemingly taking on a life of their own. As a seasoned auto repair expert, when I first watched that report, my immediate reaction was skepticism. It smelled like sensationalism, not sound science.
My skepticism wasn’t unfounded. Years prior, I witnessed firsthand a powerful demonstration of basic automotive physics. During a TV program shoot with legendary racer Parnelli Jones, we piled into a 1976 Cadillac Fleetwood Brougham. Parnelli, with a mischievous grin, started the massive V8, shifted into gear, and then floored the accelerator while simultaneously slamming on the brakes. The result? A screech of tires, a cloud of smoke, and the Cadillac resolutely staying put. It was a vivid lesson: brakes are designed to overpower engines, even behemoths. This experience highlighted a fundamental truth often overlooked in the ensuing Audi 5000 frenzy.
The mid-1980s were boom times for Audi. The aerodynamically styled Audi 5000 was a sensation, propelling Audi’s sales up by an impressive 48 percent in 1984. It was the must-have car, a symbol of modern design and engineering prowess. Then, seemingly overnight, the narrative flipped. The Audi 5000 became synonymous with danger.
Suddenly, stories emerged of Audi 5000s accelerating uncontrollably, allegedly causing accidents in driveways and garages across America. Mothers were supposedly losing control, striking children and family members. The car that was once a status symbol was now portrayed as a menace.
It’s crucial to understand the context. American drivers were accustomed to cars like the Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme, with its large, easily accessible brake pedal, sometimes even operated with the left foot. The Audi 5000, a German import, presented a different pedal arrangement. Its brake pedal was smaller and positioned closer to the accelerator, a layout unfamiliar to many American drivers.
The claims were dramatic: drivers insisted they were pressing the brake pedal with all their might, yet the Audi 5000 surged forward. This, despite the car’s modest 130-horsepower five-cylinder engine and its advanced four-wheel disc brake system, capable of generating braking force far exceeding the engine’s power. The implication was that both the brakes and the accelerator were malfunctioning simultaneously, a highly improbable scenario.
The most sensationalized case featured in the 60 Minutes report involved Kristi Bradosky, who reportedly ran over her six-year-old son. However, conveniently omitted from the broadcast was the police report which clearly stated, “Bradosky’s foot slipped off the brake pedal onto the gas pedal accelerating the auto.” This detail, starkly contradicting the narrative of a faulty car, was ignored to fit the predetermined storyline.
Ed Bradley’s 17-minute “investigative report” was broadcast on November 23, 1986. Interspersed with tearful testimonies from drivers claiming unintended acceleration, 60 Minutes presented a staged demonstration. They showed an Audi 5000 moving forward without a driver. What viewers weren’t shown was the concealed compressed air canister and hose, rigged by an “expert” to mechanically shift the car into drive. Any car with an automatic transmission will move forward in drive unless the brakes are applied. This deceptive clip was presented as evidence, despite being completely irrelevant to the actual claims of driver-operated vehicles experiencing sudden acceleration. The issue wasn’t driverless cars going rogue; it was drivers claiming loss of control while supposedly pressing the brake.
After three years of investigation, in 1989, the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA) released its report on the Audi 5000 “sudden unintended acceleration problem.” The NHTSA findings completely exonerated Audi, and other foreign automakers similarly implicated. The report concluded that the pedal placement in the Audi 5000, while different from typical American cars, was the likely culprit. Drivers, in moments of panic or confusion, were mistakenly pressing the accelerator instead of the brake.
60 Minutes dismissed the NHTSA report as merely “an opinion,” refusing to retract their sensationalized piece. However, the damage was already done. Audi faced a deluge of lawsuits and crippling negative publicity. Audi, remarkably, chose not to directly blame drivers, perhaps wary of alienating their American customer base.
Despite being cleared by the NHTSA, Audi absorbed the blow. Sales plummeted from a high of 74,000 units in 1984 to a mere 12,000 by 1991. This sales collapse coincided with the arrival of Lexus, which quickly captured the luxury car market Audi had been vying for. Audi’s misfortune allowed Japanese competitors to seize the opportunity, further solidifying their position in the American market.
Audi owners, facing depreciated resale values, launched a class-action lawsuit. By 1993, the brand considered abandoning the U.S. market altogether. The Audi 5000 “unintended acceleration” saga stands as a stark reminder of how media sensationalism, coupled with a lack of understanding of basic automotive principles and driver error, can unjustly damage a brand and reshape an industry narrative. The Audi 5000 case remains a cautionary tale in automotive history, highlighting the importance of rigorous investigation and the potential consequences of media-driven panic.
