Ford Pantera Top Speed
As you skim over the pavement in the Pantera you can't help feeling smug. You hear the engine rumbling along from its station back by your shoulder blades—a mechanical arrangement even novitiate automotive visionaries will recognize as a little piece of tomorrow today. And the looks. Oh wow—like something that just rolled out of the Turin Show. In every lane for blocks you leave a wake of typical American motorists—all suckers for a pretty fender—with their necks wound up like rubber band airplane motors. No doubt about it. The Pantera is the very hottest item in this year's automotive haute couture.
Except that it isn't. Not quite. Alejandro de Tomaso and the Ford Motor Company have bent the rules which previously applied to such exotica. Which, in turn, means that we are forced to lay bare The Double Standard which has traditionally held sway in showrooms where Gucci loafers are worn by the janitor. It's something that has always been understood . . . but never talked about . . . like a beatific millionaire uncle who made his fortune franchising bordellos.
The Double Standard in question applies almost exclusively to sports cars priced from $7000 on up to infinity and has two fundamental axioms. First: Excitement is directly proportional to price—the more you spend, the zoomier the car. Which makes sense. Second: Goodness is inversely proportional to the price—the more you spend, the less likely you are to get a carefully engineered machine, one that is dependable in the way the multitudes demand. Instead, you get hand craftsmanship, which is not the same thing.
You can prove these axioms to yourself. Look at the under-$10,000 cars—the Mercedes 280 SL, the Porsche 911 and the Jaguar V-12. The prototypes were tested, sometimes for years before the first models rolled off the assembly line. No mistakes permitted. On the other end of the spectrum, look at a manufacturer like Peter Monteverdi, who may build only a dozen or so of a given model per year and such exclusivity allows him to sell certain models for over $25,000 each. There is no fleet of test cars circling around a Monteverdi proving ground somewhere high in the Swiss Alps, and don't expect to see each body dipped in a great vat of rust-proofing solution as it comes off the assembly line. In fact, don't even expect to find two cars alike because improvements are made in each succeeding car as the need becomes obvious. In this low volume business the builder just does what seems right at the time—the customers demand style rather than perfection and pay top dollar for it.
DAVID C. PICKEN
Now there are exceptions to this whole scheme. There are a few $8000 cars that are shaky propositions from any angle, while in the upper reaches some of the experienced manufacturers—Ferrari for example—build sound automobiles.
How does the Pantera fit in this discussion? Right at the top: It has both the Excitement and the Goodness ratings that, up to now, you had to pay $25,000 for, and they are folded into a $10,000 package. Which is one hell of a bargain if that happens to be what you're looking for. That, friends and neighbors, is the Pantera story in a single capsule, from this point on we deal in variations on this theme.
For instance, as you equated a car's Excitement Quotient with exclusivity, the Pantera's EQ will taper off rather more rapidly than if it were, say, a Ferrari. Which goes back to the $10,000 price—these days, even a thrifty bellhop can scrape up enough front money for a $10,000 car. And the reason the price is so low is that Lincoln-Mercury intends to sell at least 2500 Panteras the first year and somewhere around 12,000 to 15,000 before it is phased out of production in 1974 (at least for the U.S.).
You might well ask why the Ford Motor Company is involved with this kind of car in the first place. The official company line retorts that a sleek, mid-engine GT car like the Pantera is bound to add excitement to whatever array of workaday family haulers it's tied to and will lure all kinds of prospective car buyers with checkbooks at the ready into dealers' showrooms everywhere.
There is a further company line for the "Why Lincoln-Mercury?" question too. "Lincoln-Mercury is the import division of the Ford Motor Company," spokesmen will declare . . . "And besides, the Pantera is too expensive for the Ford Division—more in line with the price of a Lincoln."
All of that is essentially true except that the shade of meaning needs to be adjusted a few turns. Since he became president of FoMoCo, dedicated Lee Iacocca observers have noted a determination on his part to strengthen the Lincoln-Mercury Division, and the quickest way to do that is to give it some easy cars to sell.
Considering what moves in the showrooms these days, the most obvious save was to shop around for an import. At the touch of a wand, Lincoln-Mercury had the Capri, simultaneously and uncerimoniously the Cortina was yanked from Ford and, POOF, Lincoln-Mercury became, in fact, the import division. That was followed last fall by a Maverick in Comet clothing and now, the Pantera. The question is, will snuggling the Pantera between Continentals and Mk. IIIs in the showroom make any of them look more appetizing?
DAVID C. PICKEN
The answer may be academic anyhow. Somebody has to sell the Pantera because the Ford Motor Company owns de Tomaso, the company that builds it. Not all of de Tomaso, but almost—enough so that everybody involved knows who is boss.
Why Ford troubles itself with a property like this is lost in the gulf between the company line and what really goes on behind the boardroom doors. Still it is probably safe to assume that whatever vision stimulated Ford representatives to wave blank checks at Enzo Ferrari 10 years ago hadn't faded from the corporate imagination last fall when the acquisition of de Tomaso was announced. While the stature of an Alejandro de Tomaso is nothing compared to that of an Enzo Ferrari, the corporate name should not be casually disparaged because included under its corporate banner are the two highly respected Italian carrozzeria of Ghia and Vignale. With such satellites, de Tomaso easily ranks within the three most influential specialty car body builders in the world—Pininfarina and Bertone being the other two.
Those who would worry about the future of the artistic Italian style of automobile manufacturer now that a major American firm has established a beachhead can be mollified somewhat by the statements of Ray Geddes, a Ford executive who has also been positioned as a vice-president of de Tomaso Inc. In the level, dispassionate monotone favored by all upward-mobile decision-makers in Detroit, Geddes explains that there is no master plan to get de Tomaso to start producing Fords with an Italian accent. On the contrary, de Tomaso is an independent subsidiary responsible for showing a profit through its own devices.
There is even a note of benevolence in the parent company's outlook. Since the Pantera is a relatively high volume car, to be built with as much production tooling and as little hand craftsmanship as possible to keep the price down, other low volume cars, one of them the exceedingly handsome 4-door sedan that was shown at the New York Auto Show, are being planned to keep Ghia's and Vignale's workforce of skilled sheetmetal artisans intact. While few auto makers can ever be accused of preservationist efforts on any front, Ford's outlook in this instance is commendable from a car enthusiast's point of view.
But will the enthusiasts look so warmly on the Pantera itself? How to judge? For all of the qualities that customers find so reassuring in Lincolns and Mercurys—comfort, ventilation, quality of assembly, noise, bumper protection, ease of maintenance, etc.—the Pantera might just as well be left in its shipping crate. But let's face it. No matter what public utterances are made no one is expecting customers who walk into a showroom looking for a Lincoln to drive out in a Pantera.
So there is little point in judging a Pantera on conventional production car standards. If, on the other hand, you compare it to the world's sparse population of mid-engine GT cars, you find that the Pantera is a meritorious automobile. And if you compare it to de Tomaso's last effort, the Mangusta, you will conclude that it is one of the modern day wonders of the world.
The basic layout of the Pantera is very efficient. Most important, there is enough room in the cockpit for two average size adults. A six-footer has plenty of headroom, his knees won't be aimed into his chin and he can stretch his arms and square his shoulders without feeling like he is in a one-man submarine. All this may seem like a very basic human need but no such convenience was available in the Mangusta. Entry and exit is a simple matter in the Pantera as well, which is probably the only design feature on which de Tomaso consistently has the inside track. Where spelunking experience is required to worm your way in over the high wide sills of a Miura or a GT Mk. III, you just slip into a de Tomaso. The doors are cut low, almost down to floor level, and there is virtually no sill. This is because the Pantera is a unit body car with much of its structure concentrated in a central backbone. And even the backbone is much less intrusive than that of the Mangusta.
DAVID C. PICKEN
While the Pantera could be classified as roomy for a mid-engine car, it's still uneasy on the anatomy. The seats are strongly bucket-shaped and firm in their padding—but decidedly shaped for someone else. The driving position, too, is something of a trial. The front wheel houses seriously encroach on the passenger compartment so the occupants must sit with their legs skewed toward the centerline of the car—and the driver ends up with no really suitable place for his left leg when he is not pedaling the clutch. As if that weren't quite enough, the steering wheel is just slightly out of reach for anyone with less than simian arms. Despite the unnatural positions mid-engine cars have forced on their drivers, you can still navigate this one with uncommon confidence because you can see out easily.
Considering (you always have to "consider" when you are speaking of cars like this) the mid-engine location and relatively generous interior dimensions, the Pantera is an exceptionally compact car—15 inches shorter and 2 inches narrower than a Corvette. With 5.4 inches of ground clearance there has been no skimping there either. Even luggage space is good.
The engine on the other hand, is like an iceberg—you only see one-third of it. The top half of the car, from the cockpit back, tilts up and the trunk floor is removable so that you can reach the trans-axle and rear of the engine without too much difficulty. But if something on the front half of the engine needs attention, like ignition timing or accessory drive belts, the bulkhead between the engine and the cockpit has to be removed. In the early production cars, the mesh grille below the back window has to be unbolted just to reach the dipstick which is a colossal design flaw. Filling the gas tank, located on the left side of the engine just behind the driver has to be done with the rear lid up and isn't much easier.
The engine is a 351 Cleveland V-8 with a 4-bbl. carburetor. It is the same 11.0-to-one option offered last year in Mustangs and Torinos but with a 10-hp higher rating (310 hp @ 5400 rpm), apparently due to the short-branch tubing headers. Each exhaust pipe feeds into a 2-outlet muffler that produces a rumble very much in keeping with the Pantera's appearance.
Power from the engine flows directly into a 5-speed ZF trans-axle which has a 4.22-to-one final ratio. That figure is a little misleading, however, because both fourth and fifth gears are overdrive ratios so that top gear overall works out to 2.97-to-one. In reality, the ZF gearbox is a stopgap measure (and, at more than twice the cost of an engine, an expensive one) until an Italian-made trans-axle can be put into production. ZF production volume is low (60 per month), much less than de Tomaso's capability for Panteras, so car production is being held up accordingly.
Perhaps the only case that can be made for buying an early Pantera is the transmission. The ZF is a known quantity so you will be assured of a device that works—although you may be debating that question after your first drive. The chrome maze around the shift lever leaves no doubt as to where to move the handle but it does nothing about the hang-ups which await you when you try.
In fact, with some help in the shifting department, the Pantera would be pretty tough on a dragstrip. It's not too heavy—3123 lbs.—and 59.1% of that weight is concentrated on the rear wheels so that even with radial ply tires it launches itself with gusto. Hampered by an engine that went soft at 5400 rpm (redline is 5900) the test car still cleared Detroit Dragway in 14.0 seconds at 99.4 mph.
Unlike the Mangusta, the Pantera stops as well as it goes. Disc brakes are used all around (ventilated ones are scheduled for future production but they are solid for now). Power assist is standard equipment.
DAVID C. PICKEN
In the brake test, the car stopped from 80 mph at .92G (232 feet) and did so three times in succession without fade. Directional stability is exemplary as well but there is room for improvement in brake modulation. Braking force is more proportional to pedal travel than it is to pedal pressure—a situation racing car engineers take great pains to avoid.
Racing car engineers would not approve of the Pantera's handling either. Nor will enthusiastic street drivers for that matter. It has a bad habit of oversteering abruptly when you lift off the throttle in a turn. An inexperienced driver can find himself in the hedges without ever knowing what he did wrong. And he is easily caught off guard because the Pantera's normal posture is a healthy understeer. A good driver can work up to impressively high cornering speeds but everyone else should beware. Perhaps the efforts involved will discourage the less determined. With the steering wheel so far away and the extreme caster (6°) working against you, the business of cornering requires abundant muscle.
Handling is routine, over-the-road driving situations are infinitely more satisfying, primarily due to the excellent straight line feel of the steering. You can drive around ants on the freeway at 80 mph. A rack and pinion gear with zero play is used and it operates in rare harmony with the high caster front suspension.
Unfortunately, there are aspects of the Pantera that are as bad as the steering is good. A few of them are the result of bad engineering or perhaps just a lack of it. Excessive engine noise, mostly exhaust, in the cockpit at cruising speeds and dismal ventilation fall into this category. But the most conspicuous shortcomings are the result of pure and simple bad judgment. The cavalier disregard shown for bumper protection is a prime example. The Pantera can never be parallel parked in any metropolitan area. Its nose will be knocked in if it does. A $25,000 car would be different. People who buy $25,000 cars rarely drive them. They have a whole fleet of other cars, at least one for every conceivable occasion. But the people who buy $10,000 cars can be expected to use them as transportation as well as for caprice and should be able to park them without posting a guard.
As you drive you have to look at another example of bad judgment—the instrument panel. Only two gauges, the speedometer and the tach, are on the dash (the others are on the console), and both are blocked by the steering wheel. Not just a little bite off the edges of each, either. No sir, the wheel obscures substantial portions of both. It makes you wonder who is minding the store and what other less obvious mistakes have been built in.
One of the more apparent is ventilation. And the problem is more serious than you might suspect. The cockpit in this type of car becomes exceptionally warm in the daytime because the enormous sloping windshield allows the sun's rays pretty much free access to the occupant's entire body, as well as serving as a giant hot plate. The Pantera's ventilation system is simply not adequate. Even the optional air conditioner will not have enough capacity for summer days.
Which takes us back to the Decreasing Goodness with Rising Price theorem. Air conditioners work just fine in $5000 cars—it's the $10,000 and up models that you have to worry about. The same applies to quality of assembly. Unlike the molded vinyl in a Lincoln, the sewn covering on the Pantera instrument panel pulls and wrinkles and looks very much like what you'd find on a home-made car—or a $25,000 sports car.
So the Pantera confronts the affluent car nut with a whole new dilemma—a $25,000 car for only ten grand. You have to wonder whether the Ford Motor Company knows what it is getting itself into.
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Source: https://www.caranddriver.com/reviews/a15141823/detomaso-pantera-archived-test-review/
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