It started with stockings and a Delaunay-Belvilla. France. 1911.
The Bonnot Gang pulled off a job, hopped into the stolen car, and vanished. They called themselves The Auto Bandits, though history usually just calls them criminals. It was the blueprint. Steal a car, commit the crime, drive away while the law chases smoke.
We looked back through the archives. Not for elegance. Not for safety ratings. We looked for speed, space, and anonymity. Twenty cars stood out. These are the machines stolen money can actually buy. Step on the pedal.
Jaguar Mk2
Launched in ’59. Immediately loved by felons.
The Mk2 wasn’t subtle, but it was fast. Nimble. It fit five large men and a trunk full of loot without buckling. The 3.8-liter version screamed up to 125 mph. Police watched it go and realized they were the slow ones.
They bought Mk2s too. To chase the thieves who drove Mk2s. It was a cat-and-mouse game where everyone played with the same cat. The definitive getaway car. Probably.
Ford Sierra RS Cosworth
The Jaguar’s spiritual successor, if spiritual success means better cornering.
The RS Cosworth arrived as the Mk2 did for its era: easy to lift, plenty of room for the crew, a trunk that held gear, and acceleration that left patrol cars eating dust. Rover made cars that matched the speed? Sure. The SD1 and VauxhallSenator had pace. They lacked the handling. You couldn’t turn them around a bend without risking a wreck.
The “Cossie” stuck around. Even in the early 2000s, thieves used three-door Cosworths or the four-door Saphires to flee scenes of heists. Look at these cars today. They cost more than whatever cash was in that bag they stole. Irony, isn’t it?
Range Rover
Sometimes you can’t stay on the road.
If the route involves dirt, ditches, or a border crossing that isn’t paved, the sedan fails. The Range Rover thrives where others stall. Cops love them now. Then? Robbers did too. A yellow P38b 4.6 HSE looks right at home in the movie Layer Cake, all style and aggression.
Need more power? The Nürburgring-winning Sport SVR exists. You leave the scene in roughly eight minutes and fourteen seconds. Fast enough for most people to stop running.
Mini Cooper
The gold job needed three.
Red. White. Blue. That was the rule in 1969. The original Italian Job required a criminal mastermind, gridlock traffic so bad it stopped the city, and Benny Hill running behind them. Mountain passes were out. The suspension would kill you.
The 2003 reboot brought it to L.A. Mark Wahlberg. Charlize Theron. Jason Statham. They swapped the vintage Minis for modern ones, sharper, faster, still tiny. Statham claimed training from F1 legend Damon Hill. The cast disagreed on one thing: Theron was actually the best driver. Who knew?
The cast admitted Theron handled the wheel best.
Ford Lotus Cortina
Disguised as nothing special.
“Most people thought it was just bog-standard,” Bruce Reynolds told theBBC years later. Reynolds was the brains behind the 1963 Grand Train Robbery. The biggest heist Britain ever saw.
He didn’t need a sports car. He needed a car people wouldn’t notice until it was gone. ‘BMK 7223’ was that car. A Ford Lotus Cortina. Unassuming. Fast enough. It carried the crew and the millions while everyone else looked away.
The Cortina drove into the hills. No sirens immediately behind. Just the quiet hum of a machine that looked like it belonged nowhere. And everywhere.
The rest? Still waiting on the highway.
