Shrouded Mystery - Speed has always had a way of capturing human imagination. From the earliest days of motoring, engineers and dreamers alike have pushed the limits of what a machine could do, chasing shapes that seemed to belong more to tomorrow than to their own time. Among the many creations from that golden age of experimentation lies a car that continues to spark curiosity—not because it is well-documented, but precisely because its story is so hard to pin down.
This curious machine is often referred to as a streamlined
DKW, though whether it truly came from the German marque remains open to debate.
With its elongated nose, flowing curves, and smooth lines,
it looks every bit like a high-speed special built to slice through the air. Yet beyond its dramatic appearance lies a tale full of unanswered questions.
DKW itself has a fascinating past. Founded in
1916 by
Danish engineer Jørgen Skafte Rasmussen in Saxony,
Germany, the company initially experimented with steam-powered vehicles before becoming best known for small two-stroke cars and motorcycles.
The car in question carries the heart of one such creation:
a late-1920s P15/PS 600 Sport two-cylinder engine. On paper, this seems like a straightforward fit for the era. But as soon as you start examining the body, the story takes a strange turn.
The most striking quirk is its enormous turning circle—estimated at 30 to 40 meters—something completely impractical for daily driving. The enclosed front wheels, while great for aerodynamics, allowed almost no steering angle, suggesting this was a car built for speed in straight lines, not for city streets. At the same time, a rear number plate with a light hints that at some point, its builder considered making it road legal. That contradiction adds fuel to the mystery: was it ever meant to be a production prototype, or simply an ambitious personal project?
What deepens the puzzle is the absence of any factory record linking this car to
DKW. The brand did experiment with streamlined shapes, both in motorcycles and in some experimental cars, but none match this exact design.
Some believe the steel body may not even date from the 1930s but rather from the 1950s, perhaps built by an independent engineer using
older DKW components. Unverified claims even suggest it once attempted a run at
the Bonneville Salt Flats, though no official record exists.
Its paper trail is equally tangled. The car reportedly spent time in Australia under the care of a private collector before resurfacing in Europe.
By 2015,
it was seen at auction in Austria in need of restoration,
but without the paperwork or documentation that could firmly establish its origins. Stories surrounding it vary wildly—some say it could be an undocumented prototype, others insist it is little more than a homemade project built on
an F2 frame with parts scavenged from Volkswagen or Wartburg. One enthusiast who claimed his father once owned it even described it as poorly built, dismissing the idea that it had any factory connection at all.
And yet, despite such conflicting accounts, the car continues to fascinate. Whether crafted by factory engineers chasing aerodynamics or by a resourceful mechanic chasing a dream, it represents the kind of ingenuity that defined an era.
Its smooth lines,
odd details,
and lack of certainty make it more than just another forgotten relic—it becomes a story in itself, one that forces us to imagine the workshop where it was shaped, the roads it once traveled, and the ambitions of the person who built it.
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