In 2017, Audi—those meticulous masterminds of German engineering—decided to introduce a naming convention that would leave the rest of us scratching our heads. You’d think zee Germans would keep things straightforward: horsepower on the badge, maybe displacement, or at the very least a familiar S, RS, or quattro. But no. They went full Wagner opera with a numeric scale that somehow manages to be both precise and maddeningly cryptic at the same time.
The idea, according to Audi’s press releases at the time, was to create a “consistent and logical structure” for model designations. Logical? Maybe if you’re a product planner in Ingolstadt. For the rest of us, it felt more like an engineering riddle, daring loyal customers to decipher their cars like a secret code. The plan was simple on paper: numbers ranging from 30 to 70 that correspond to power output bands, regardless of displacement, cylinders, or forced induction. In other words, goodbye to clear indicators like “2.0T” and hello to abstract mathematics.
Here’s how Audi’s mystery math stacks up:
- 30 = 109-128 hp (81-96 kW) – For when you want your Audi to politely sip fuel and blend into traffic.
- 35 = 147-160 hp (110-120 kW) – Enough oomph to reassure you that it isn’t just another family hatchback.
- 40 = 167-201 hp (125-150 kW) – Autobahn entry level: decent pull for left-lane sprints.
- 45 = 226-248 hp (169-185 kW) – The sweet spot where an Audi starts to feel properly quick.
- 50 = 281-308 hp (210-230 kW) – Now we’re warming up: strong performance without going full RS.
- 55 = 328-368 hp (245-275 kW) – This is statement territory; every throttle press feels like a declaration.
- 60 = 429-455 hp (320-340 kW) – Serious power. The kind that makes your neighbors ask unnecessary questions.
- 70 = 536+ hp (400+ kW) – The big guns. RS-level savagery where Audi flexes hard and dares you not to grin.
Of course, in true German fashion, there’s nuance. Hybrids, diesels, petrols, and even electric e-tron models all got slotted somewhere onto this scale. That means you could have a “45 TDI” with diesel grunt or a “45 TFSI” petrol, both wearing the same number but feeling very different behind the wheel. Confused? That’s the point. Audi insisted the badge was about “performance equivalence,” not what was actually under the bonnet.
The result? Enthusiasts moaned, journalists grumbled, and casual buyers smiled politely while pretending to understand. Yet Audi stuck to their guns. For them, it wasn’t about making life easier—it was about imposing order. A uniquely German order, where logic is absolute, clarity optional, and the rest of the world can simply keep up.
And to be fair, Audi isn’t the only one guilty of this. BMW has been playing the badge inflation game for decades—slapping “330i” on a car with a 2.0-litre four-cylinder, while Mercedes thinks nothing of calling a 2.0-litre turbo “E300” just for old times’ sake. At least Audi had the honesty to drop displacement altogether, even if they replaced it with a riddle. Compared to their Bavarian and Stuttgart rivals, Audi’s numeric opera might actually be the most consistent—if you’re fluent in Ingolstadt code, that is.
So, was it necessary? Probably not. Did it make life confusing? Absolutely. But like so many things Audi does, the brilliance is in the arrogance: if you don’t get it, perhaps you weren’t meant to. Because nothing says Vorsprung durch Technik quite like a numbering system that keeps everyone guessing, ja?