Summary
In 1959–1960, Ford developed a subcompact car codenamed “Cardinal,” intended for both the U.S. and Europe. The U.S. version was canceled in 1962, but Ford of Germany put the Cardinal into production as the 1962–1966 Ford Taunus 12M (P4). It was the first production Ford with front-wheel drive (FWD). It was followed by a refined, restyled FWD car, codenamed “Prelate,” which became the 1967–1970 Ford 12M/15M (P6).
The Cardinal Lays a Curate’s Egg: The Taunus 12M P4
On July 17, 1962, Cologne finally bade farewell to the now very elderly 1952-vintage 12M. The facelifted car had managed to sell 215,471 units in three years, which, if hardly record-setting, was much better than John Andrews had feared back in 1958.
Cover of the initial German brochures for the new Taunus 12M. (Image: Ford Motor Company)
When the FWD Taunus 12M P4 debuted in September 1962, Ford-Werke officials were not very optimistic about its prospects either. It was new, which was good, and with a starting price of DM 5,330, it was a bit cheaper than its predecessor (and even more so if you considered that a heater, which was standard on the new car, had been an extra DM 160 on the old 12M, while a four-speed gearbox had been DM 75). However, the new 12M had a very peculiar mixture of vices and virtues.
Like the English Ford Cortina that made its public bow around the same time, the 12M P4 was really a class up from the contemporary C-segment in size and weight. It was significantly bigger than the Beetle, or the new Opel Kadett or Renault R8, as the following table illustrates. (We’ve also included the 1988 Honda Civic sedan, a C-segment car of 25 years later, as a more modern reference point.)
| Model | Overall Length (in/mm) | Wheelbase (in/mm) | Overall Width (in/mm) | Overall Height (in/mm) | Curb Weight (lb/kg) |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Ford Taunus 12M (P4) sedan | 167.2 in/4,248 mm | 99.5 in/2,527 mm | 62.8 in/1,594 mm | 57.4 in/1,458 mm | 1,863 lb/845 kg |
| Ford Consul Cortina sedan | 170.5 in/4,330 mm | 98.0 in/2,490 mm | 63.0 in/1,600 mm | 57.4 in/1,448 mm | 1,766 lb/801 kg |
| Volkswagen Beetle 1200 (standard) | 160.2 in/4,070 mm | 94.5 in/2,400 mm | 60.6 in/1,540 mm | 59.1 in/1,500 mm | 1,609 lb/730 kg |
| Ford Anglia 105E sedan | 153.5 in/3,900 mm | 90.5 in/2,300 mm | 57.3 in/1,455 mm | 56.6 in/1,438 mm | 1,695 lb/769 kg |
| Opel Kadett A sedan | 154.4 in/3,923 mm | 91.5 in/2,325 mm | 57.9 in/1,470 mm | 55.1 in/1,410 mm | 1,521 lb/690 kg |
| Renault Dauphine sedan | 157.1 in/3,937 mm | 89.4 in/2,267 mm | 58.7 in/1,524 mm | 55.5 in/1,441 mm | 1,43 lb/650 kg |
| Renault R8 sedan | 157.1 in/3,990 mm | 89.4 in/2,270 mm | 58.7 in/1,490 mm | 55.5 in/1,410 mm | 1,610 lb/730 kg |
| 1988 Honda Civic sedan | 166.5 in/4,230 mm | 98.4 in/2,500 mm | 66.5 in/1,690 mm | 53.5 in/1,360 mm | 1,874 lb/850 kg |
However, where the Cortina made its class-straddling position a commercial virtue, offering buyers a bigger, more powerful car than the Anglia for a fairly modest price premium, the 12M seemed like a stripped-down big sedan trying, not very convincingly, to pass itself off as a small economy model.
Diagram of the Taunus 12M calling out its (metric) interior and exterior dimensions. The exterior dimensions are as stated in the table above, plus a track width of 49.0 inches (1,245 mm). The interior dimensions include front headroom of 38.5 inches (979 mm), front legroom of 43.0 inches (1,092 mm), front shoulder room of 49.6 inches (1,260 mm), front hip room 52.6 inches (1,337 mm), rear headroom 38.4 inches (973 mm), rear legroom of 3,78 inches (962 mm), rear hip room (1,314 mm), and rear shoulder room of 48.7 inches (1,237 mm). (Image: Ford Motor Company)
Despite its dimensions and the advantage of a flat cabin floor, the FWD 12M P4 was not substantially more commodious than the RWD Cortina. Front-seat passengers enjoyed generous legroom in the 12M, and the standard front bench seat (not common on German cars of this period) made it possible to carry a child between the driver and front passenger, but headroom was ungenerous for taller drivers, rear seat room was unexceptional, and rear passengers didn’t have enough thigh support because the seat cushion had been shortened to give the illusion of greater legroom. Compared to a Beetle, the 12M had an enormous trunk, but the utility of its impressive nominal volume was also compromised by a small opening, high liftover height, the intrusion of the rear wheel houses, and the position of the spare tire. Moreover, the 12M was far from luxurious in either fit and finish or equipment, and the paucity of brightwork made it seem rather austere even by German standards.
Ford claimed the 12M P4 had 19.8 cu. ft. (560 L) of trunk space, although not all of that space was really usable unless you were in the habit of liquefying your baggage for maximum space efficiency. (Photo: Ford Motor Company)
It was also quite heavy for its class and era. As Bernhard Osswald had predicted, Dearborn’s original weight targets had proved wildly optimistic: The production 12M P4 was some 263 lb (120 kg) heavier than the initial I-PF-4 target. Embarrassingly, the FWD 12M was also almost 100 lb (44 kg) heavier than the RWD Cortina, which had benefited from an aggressive program of cost and weight reduction.
The Taunus 12M P4’s most direct German rival was the RWD Opel Kadett A, which arrived at about the same time, and was closer to what the stillborn Ford-Werke NPX-C5 probably would have become in production. The Kadett A was substantially smaller than the FWD 12M P4 and weighed a whopping 386 lb (175 kg) less, which meant better acceleration and fuel economy. In West Germany, the Kadett started at DM 5,075 — DM 255 (about 5 percent) cheaper than the 12M. (Photo: “Opel Kadett, Bj. 1964 (2014-09-13 6998).JPG” by Lothar Spurzem, which is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 2.0 Germany (CC BY-SA 2.0 DE) license)
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The P4’s weight inevitably hurt its performance. With its 1,183 cc (72.2 cu. in.) V-4 engine making a modest 40 PS DIN (29.4 kW; advertised in some markets as 50 hp SAE gross), the 12M could be outrun by the lighter Volkswagen Beetle at around-town speeds, and keeping up with traffic required full use of the (excellent) column-shifted four-speed gearbox. Ford-Werke initially claimed 0–62 mph (0–100 km/h) acceleration of 27.5 seconds, but the German car magazine auto motor und sport (AMS) couldn’t do better than 30 seconds, and the auto club magazine ADAC-Motorwelt needed 31 seconds. As expected of a German car, the 12M could cruise at its top speed of 78 mph (125 km/h), although it took its time getting there, and slowing down produced substantial brake fade. The factory’s claimed 31.4 mpg (7.5 L/100 km) was possible only if you stayed in the slow lane, although AMS found that full-speed, full-throttle Autobahn cruising still returned a respectable 25 mpg (9.4 L/100 km); their testers recorded 28.7 mpg (8.2 L/100 km/h) overall.
This photo, extracted from the 1962 German brochure for the Taunus 12M P4, shows the Cardinal “ponypak” in initial production form, with the transverse leaf spring and steering linkage removed to provide a clearer view of the engine and transaxle. The caption, “So kommen seine 40 PS direktauf die Straße,” means roughly “How 40 PS gets to the pavement.” (Photo: Ford Motor Company)
Front-wheel drive gave the 12M excellent crosswind stability and fine wet-weather traction, and ride quality was exceptionally compliant for a car of this size and vintage. Handling was another matter. Unsurprisingly, the 12M P4 had substantial body lean and heavy understeer in fast turns, but it also had a tendency to hoist its inside rear wheel in dramatic fashion, which the controversial Stuttgart-based consumer testing magazine DM (Deutsches Mark) claimed could make the car roll over if pushed too hard. Ford-Werke officials were initially prepared to contest these allegations in court, which wouldn’t have been the first or the last time DM was sued — in 1964, Volkswagen filed a DM 10 million lawsuit over the magazine’s extremely negative long-term review of the Type 3 Volkswagen 1500 S. However, Andrews backed down after test drivers in Cologne found that the 12M could in fact end up on its roof in this way. This seems to have been a very rare occurrence in the real world, but AMS road testers repeatedly expressed concerns about the 12M’s unexpected penchant for abrupt trailing-throttle oversteer. Tucking in the nose if the driver lifted off the throttle in a fast turn was not an uncommon trait among older FWD cars, but it wasn’t in keeping with the P4’s otherwise sedate manners, and it could give unwary drivers a nasty surprise. Worse, carburetor starvation in hard left-hand turns could potentially produce the same effect even without lifting, albeit at much higher cornering speeds than most 12M drivers were likely to attempt.
In hard cornering, the Taunus 12M P4 would lean dramatically and hoist its inside rear wheel, as driver Joachim Springer demonstrates in the Number 75 car during a circuit test at the Rallye Automobile Monte-Carlo in January 1964. Although a driver of Springer’s skill was unlikely to do so, either lifting abruptly off the accelerator or making sudden steering corrections at this stage could have unpleasant consequences. Sharp trailing-throttle oversteer was the most likely outcome, but Ford-Werke test drivers found the 12M could tip over after hoisting its tail like this. (Photo: Ford Motor Company)
Complicating that issue was the P4’s steering, which drew many complaints. Not only was it under-geared (steering ratio was 22:1) and lifeless in the customary American manner, it was also imprecise enough to frustrate quick evasive maneuvers. This was due in large part to the ponypak layout: Attaching the suspension arms to the powertrain rather than the unit body forced an uneasy compromise between chassis tuning and the need to isolate the body structure from the V-4 engine’s inherent secondary imbalance. The engine mounts were soft enough to allow significant compliance steer, which contributed materially to the vague steering response. On top of that, you could sometimes feel the powertrain shifting on its mounts (which wasn’t nearly as severe as the bucking that had plagued the prototypes, but could still be disconcerting), and some road surfaces would set up an unpleasant front wheel shake. Despite these handicaps, the engine wasn’t isolated enough to mask its vibration, especially at idle, which made the 12M feel crude despite its cushy ride. The V-4 was also unpleasantly loud on acceleration, although the lack of fan noise provided some mitigation at cruising speeds.
Many, though not all, of the Taunus 12M P4’s early flaws were traceable to the “ponypak.” As this illustration shows, the suspension arms were hung from the powertrain, which was carried on three rubber-insulated mounts, the rearmost of which was attached to a rubber-insulated crossmember. This produced a mutually unsatisfactory compromise between engine isolation and wheel control. The early Cardinal prototypes had been much worse, suffering severe front-end bucking as the powertrain pitched and swayed on its mounts; fixing the spring clamp to a crossmember rather than to the top of the gearbox housing reduced but didn’t wholly eliminate the problem. (Image: Ford Motor Company)
Ford-Werke in this period still couldn’t approach Volkswagen build quality, and the reliability of the 12M was a mixed bag. The V-4 engine, transaxle, and driveshafts were surprisingly robust, especially given that they were all-new, but Automobil-Report repair data revealed frequent problems with the 12M’s electrical and exhaust systems — almost half of first-year owners needed unscheduled exhaust repairs, perhaps reflecting the stresses imposed by excessive powertrain movement. Paint flaws and body rattles were common, and rust could be a problem. Also, as AMS discovered when a rock hit their long-term test car’s windshield, the P4 didn’t have laminated safety glass.
The car’s American origins were by this time common knowledge, which wasn’t necessarily to the 12M’s advantage in European markets. John Andrews made a game attempt to tell the German press that the new Taunus 12M was 100 percent a Cologne design, but this fooled no one. Almost everyone connected with the auto industry had heard of the Cardinal project by this time, and even if they somehow hadn’t, the 12M P4 was marked by many obvious concessions to American tastes. Reinhard Seiffert of auto motor und sport compared it to an American attempt to replicate European beer, which strikes us as one of the most cordially damning things a German reviewer could say about a product.
The Taunus 12M P4 dashboard underwent only minor changes through the production run of the P4, but the 160 km/h speedometer marks this example as a 1964 or later model. Curiously, despite its radio and clock, this car lacks the optional passenger-side grab handle above the glove box, which was an essential 12M accessory. The P4’s doors couldn’t be locked from inside, so passengers grasping for something to hold onto in a fast right-hand turn might conceivably find themselves getting up close and personal with the pavement! (Photo: “Ford12m-1Serie-Armaturenbrett.jpg” by Holger Menzke, who allows anyone to use the photo for any purpose, provided that the copyright holder is properly attributed; this version was resized 2024 by Aaron Severson)
Nonetheless, if the new 12M was still a curate’s egg, good only in parts, it had enough points of interest to make it worth a look, which hadn’t always been the case with its predecessor. Initial sales were very respectable, neck and neck with the cheaper Kadett, and Ford anticipated more: After spending years futilely chasing mergers with other automakers as a way of expanding Ford-Werke production volume, the German subsidiary established an all-new assembly plant in Belgium, along the Albert Canal outside the town of Genk, at a reported cost of $120 million USD. This plant, perhaps the most dramatic indicator to that point of the company’s faith in the Common Market, began producing the Taunus 12M in August 1963 and was fully operational by 1964. Genk would eventually assemble more than half of all P4 production and more than three-fourths of the subsequent P6 line.
In July 1963, British Petroleum (BP) approached Ford-Werke to propose using the Taunus 12M for endurance record attempts, as a way of simultaneously promoting the new BP Longlife motor oil and the durability of the FWD car. A 12M randomly selected from a French Ford depot in Rouen and fitted with safety equipment was driven continuously at top speed for 141 days on the Miramas Autodrome oval track in southern France, driving the equivalent of the distance from the Earth to the moon at an average speed of 65 mph (105 km/h). There was an interruption of about 12 hours on October 29 after driver Michael Grammond went off the road and rolled twice, but the extremely battered car was hastily hammered back into driveable shape and went on, eventually completing 221,475 miles (356,430 km) before Ford-Werke and BP called a halt on November 28, having set 140 international and world class records. Remarkably, the record-setting car eventually ended up in private hands, still wearing its many scars, honorably earned.
The record-setting 12M endurance car on the track at Miramas Autodrome in fall 1963. The car ran flat out for 141 consecutive days, interrupted only by pit stops and, in one occasion, emergency repairs under the watchful eyes of FIA officials. (Photo: Ford Motor Company)
The early Subaru ff1 had a similar heater arrangement to the Taunus.
After testing the Ford-Köln V4, Saab requested and got certain changes to the engine, but I don’t know exactly what they were. Ford-Köln didn’t make these changes to engines destined for their own cars.
The only specific difference I’m aware of was that Saab specified softer valve springs; there may have been additional changes, but that’s the one of which I’m aware.
It’s noteworthy that the point where Ford agreed to supply the Taunus V-4 to Saab ended up coinciding with the European recession, which for a while brought sales of the bigger 17M and 20M to a more or less grinding halt. The 12M and 15M were still selling okay, but the downturn for the bigger cars meant the engine plant was running way under capacity, which is very, very expensive. My guess is that this made Ford more willing to accommodate Saab change requests than they might otherwise have been — Saab didn’t take a huge volume (about 35,000 units a year initially), but with Ford-Werke having to actually shut down some production lines while they tried to figure out how to clear unsold stocks, I assume every little bit helped.
I’ve been looking forward to this for some time; a most excellent detailed look at this oddball car.
A couple of points: You make no mention of the rather unusual styling origins of the Cardinal/12M. In my post on these cars, I found some pictures of the Ford Werke’s proposed NPX-C5, styling clays that very clearly are antecedents of the Cardinal/12M. It’s a bit surprising, given that the NPX-C5 was otherwise tossed overboard in favor of the cardinal, but its styling was very much adopted. Since you don’t allow images added to comments, I can’t show them, but they are in my post at Curbside Classic: https://i0.wp.com/www.curbsideclassic.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/12/Ford-Cardinal-flip-vert.jpg
The cancellation of the Cardinal in April of 1962 is significant in another way: by this time Iaccoca had clearly seen the surprising success of the sporty Corvair Monza, which of course led to the Mustang. Undoubtedly the Mustang was already quite far along at this time. The Monza was an extremely pivotal car, as it finally broke the mold that compact cars were all just for cheapskates; they could be immensely popular with the right styling, image, performance and higher trim. The Monza opened the pathway for small cars to be profitable, but they had to look stylish. The Cardinal clearly did not meet that criteria, although one wonders what if there had been a Monza-equivalent Cardinal coupe with a higher output engine, 4-speed and better trim. Maybe a temporary stopgap until the Mustang?
I spent a while on Thursday and Friday wrestling with the issue of the pictures you mention, and I ended up with the strong suspicion that the photos identified as the NPX-C5 are NOT actually that; I think they’re of a scale model of the Cardinal, and that the resulting “bitty” look led to their being conflated with the smaller German project. I asked Ford Archives if there were any surviving images of the NPX-C5, they apparently went back and forth with Köln (which is part of why there was such a delay), and they didn’t come up with anything. So, I think the reason that photo, and other photos of the same model (I’ve seen at least one other from a slightly different angle), look so much like the Cardinal is that it WAS the Cardinal, albeit at one-quarter or three-eighths scale. If so, the misidentification appears to have originated with Hanns-Peter Rosellen in his 1988 book Ford-Schritte; Rosellen’s account of the NPX-C5 and Cardinal/P4 projects is also marred by his very serious chronological error regarding the timing of Iacocca’s visit, so he was not batting 1,000 in this area. A related issue is that Köln appears to have used the “NPX” prefix generically, probably as an acronym for “Neue-Projekt-Experimental” or something like that; the suffix appears to identify the specific project, so simply saying “NPX” by itself isn’t sufficiently specific.
The Rosellen book, Ford-Schritte: der Wiederaufstieg der Ford-Werke Köln von 1945 bis 1970, is a frustrating thing in a number of respects. It was done with extensive cooperation from Ford-Werke, following up an earlier volume (which I haven’t read) that’s an apparently rather evasive history of Ford of Germany through 1945, so it’s full of behind-the-scenes insights, but it has some weird errors. Also, it was never published in English, and is very rare on this side of the Atlantic; I was able to read portions of it (unfortunately without the illustrations), but actually buying a physical copy would likely run to €90 to €100, plus probably half again that for shipping, even if a seller were willing to ship it internationally.
That’s a possible explanation but I see some problems with them. The model identified as NPX-5C is decidedly narrower than the Cardinal, and most importantly, very clearly lacks the front overhang that was essential with the FWD Cardinal. The difference between the length in the area in front of the front wheel opening and the front bumper is very obvious. And yet that longer front overhang is very much in evidence in the older full-size clay dated 9-15-59. That clay has the same basic proportions of the definitive Cardinal, with its heaviness and front overhang. The NPX-5C has none of those qualities; it looks like what I assumed it was: a light, narrow, front engine RWD car, very similar in size and proportions to others of its kind including the Kadett, although not quite as narrow looking.
The proportions of a FWD car with the engine in front of the front axle center are very distinctive and impossible to hide. The NPX-5C simply doesn’t have those.
I cannot fathom why Ford would have made a quite advanced clay like the 9-15-59 model before these models dubbed NPX-5C, since they very clearly do not conform to the Cardinal’s dimensions and proportions and FWD. And from where in Dearborn’s design language does that Cardinal styling come from? It looks like nothing Ford ever did in this mid-late ’50s period.
Admittedly these models dubbed NPX-5C don’t exactly look like anything Ford Werke had either, but they had very limited design capability back then and I can see them cooking this up as a concept design for their new RWD car. I simply cannot fathom Dearborn coming up with the Cardinal’s design, although it also surprises me that they would adopt the German concept (if that’s what they seemed to do, to me anyway).
The Cardinal is a somewhat mysterious oddball car all the way around. It really shouldn’t have ever existed given the typical patterns of the Big Three. But its styling is for me the biggest mystery of all. It looks absolutely nothing like a US Ford product, unless I’m missing something. And those models lack all the key proportions and dimensions of the Cardinal.
So I’m going to tick with my theory until I can see something more definitively to change my miny. It seems a bit odd that there’s zero visual evidence of Ford Weke’s NPX-5C project?
Ford-Werke didn’t really have much in the way of styling facilities at that point; the P2 and P3 17M were definitely styled in Dearborn, and during the time the NPX-C5 was developed, there was internal correspondence in the U.S. expressing serious doubts that Köln had the capability of designing a complete vehicle. John Najjar told Karl Ludvigsen that he, Gale Halderman, and Art Miller did the exterior and interior design for what became the Cardinal, and that the reason it looked sort of odd was that they were under orders to minimize the number of exterior panels to keep the tooling costs down, so the “design language” was secondary to cost considerations. I’m not necessarily persuaded by the apparent dimensions, insofar as the package size was such a moving target throughout 1959; the I-PF-4 was significantly enlarged at least three times, probably in width as well as in length and wheelbase, and it appears the original narrow-angle V-4 was very, very short, especially since it had no cooling fan.
This is an area where Rosellen’s chronological errors became a very serious problem. Rosellen says that Gutzeit presented the NPX-C5 prototype to the Ford-Werke board on December 12, 1959, and that John Andrews, Bob Layton, and their planning chief flew to Detroit soon after (“kurz darauf”) to show the proposal to Dearborn management. However, Rosellen then asserts that Iacocca flew to Germany in February 1960, and that it was the NPX-C5 prototype he saw and so hated. This makes no sense at all: Iacocca’s own account says he went to Germany after he became general manager of Ford Division (which was on November 9, 1960), and while it’s not terribly improbable that he might have seen whatever presentation Andrews and Layton brought with them, that would have been in Dearborn, not in Köln. Unfortunately, Rosellen’s narrative is founded on that premise, which undermines what would otherwise have been the clearest account of the German perspective on the whole thing. I am further hampered by not having a complete copy of Ford-Schritte (which would cost me at least €50 that I do not have to spare), but the fact that the photos of the purported NPX-C5 aren’t dated makes it that much harder to know where to fit them into the timeline. The photos of the full-size models taken in Dearborn have the enormous virtue of having the date on the sign in the photo.
So, my take is this: 1) According to Ludvigsen, John Najjar took responsibility for the Cardinal as it became, and I have no particular reason to doubt that. (It’s not like the two-seat Thunderbird, where many people had obvious incentive to take credit for it.) 2) Ford-Werke didn’t yet do styling development, and the most complete textual description I have of the NPX-C5 (which isn’t very extensive) focuses on its engineering features, suggesting that it was sort of a pet project for Gutzeit (“Gutzeits Liebling”), who was chief engineer, not a stylist. 3) There’s already been a fair amount of misinformation about the NPX-C5 (including the whole business about it allegedly having a rear engine), and I am reluctant to compound that by repeating an uncertain attribution of an undated photo of ambiguous provenance. I went back and forth on this at some length on Thursday and Friday, and while I do have a (slightly) higher resolution version of the purported NPX-C5 photo, I decided I just wasn’t sure enough about it.
As for the records, I’m not terribly surprised about that. The challenge for the corporate archivists is that there is a HUGE amount of material over a span of decades; some of it inevitably gets lost, some isn’t retained for various reasons, and some of it inevitably gets misfiled or misidentified. At the time Rosellen wrote his books in the mid-eighties, that photo of the scale model might well have been in the project files for the NPX-C5 and P4, but depending on how or whether it was labeled, identifying its original date and significance 25 years earlier may have come down to guesswork.
All good points but I simply cannot get past the stark reality that the so-called NPX-C5 models are missing the necessary front overhang as well as the width that the 1959 Cardinal clay already had and was essential to clear the engine. Scale models are based on drawings with accurate dimensions and hard points. There is simply no logic to why these scale models would be created after the ’59 clay without these essential cardinal elements. It simply makes no sense. And this is not just a matter of subjectivity; these NPX-5C models clearly do not conform to the Cardinal’s basic and essential hard points.
Why create a scale model that doesn’t conform to the program, as already laid down?
What they do represent in proportion, narrowness and lack of front overhang is a more compact conventional RWD car.
How’s this for a hypothesis? These models were made in Germany (it wouldn’t have taken much to do so) and when Ford mandated the Cardinal for Germany, they saw these and thought they looked better than their exceptionally dull clay from 1959. And so they decided to adopt and develop the design theme from these models. And FWIW, it might have been a sop to Cologne for having killed their program.
I want to believe your hypothesis, but the obvious issues with these models not conforming to the Cardinal program’s established hard points makes it impossible for me. I simply can’t get past that key issue. There’s a missing key logical step in your theory; why create models for a narrower, obviously RWD car?
Seems like we’ll just have to have different interpretations of what is available.
The thing is, the program hardpoints were a rapidly moving target. Even the NPX-C5 was enlarged quite a bit from its initial conception (overall length grew from 370 to 390 cm; I don’t know if it got wider as well). One of the reasons the whole project was such a mess, and a major reason why keeping the costs in line became so difficult, was that the goalposts kept shifting. Even after the I-PF-4 became the Cardinal and was handed off to Ford Division, the dimensions were enlarged again (according to Rosellen, in October 1960). So, when styling concepts like the 1959 HummingBird were designed, the package dimensions were NOT fixed, and questions like “What are the external dimensions of the engine and how much space do we need to allot for it?” had not been resolved. What you’re proposing is not impossible, but it’s too far into the realm of speculation for me to be comfortable presenting that as what happened.
I’m going to be obnoxious and throw out another issue: The so-called NPX-C5 models very clearly have a hood that slopes down to the front, ending well below the height of the fender tops. This would have been fine on a conventional RWD car with the engine set back in its usual position but absolutely would not have worked with that V4 and its air cleaner sitting out in front of the axle centerline. Yet the 1959 clay and all the obvious Cardinal clays have the high hood and extended front end to clear the engine. Again, it makes zero sense to create models that do not conform to the very obvious requirements of the program, as in the tall engine in front.
I’m going to say it one more time: the 1959 clay has all the key and necessary hardpoints in the front of the car to clear the engine, and looks very similar to the definitive Cardinal clays (and as built) including the bulging width below the beltline that makes the wheels look lost in their wheel wells. The so-called NPX-C5 models absolutely lack all these features. That’s a red flag for me. You’re suggesting a progression in the styling process that defies logic.
Even if those photos do represent the NPX-C5 as Köln wanted to build it — and I grant that its proportions are similar enough to the subsequent Opel Kadett A, a 1-liter RWD car developed with a similar design brief for the same market, to make that at least plausible — I don’t have (and was unable to find, despite my efforts) any conclusive evidence of: 1) when those photos were taken; 2) WHERE the photos were taken; and 3) whether the model depicted was designed in Köln or in Dearborn. Even granting the points you make about the width and the front end proportions, that does not necessarily lead to the conclusion that the design cues, like the beltline bead or the roofline, came from Ford-Werke. It’s possible that, for example, the scale model was created by Najjar’s office in late 1959-early 1960, after Andrews made his pitch for the NPX-C5 package, and represented an adaptation of the Cardinal design to suit the German-proposed RWD package rather than the other way around. I went through all of these arguments on Thursday and Friday, and it came down to what I felt I have reasonable evidence to support and what I don’t, a lot of which came down to the inability of Ford Archives to provide clarification and the frustratingly shaky reliability of Rosellen’s book in this area. (I can’t fathom how he made such a colossal error with regard to the timing of Iacocca’s trip to Germany; he’d clearly read Iacocca’s book, which he even quotes.)
I was wrong, the 17M P3 WAS designed in Köln by Dahlberg and Uwe Bahnsen. (I knew that they designed it, but I had been mistakenly assuming that it was in Dearborn rather than in Germany.)
There’s another point to add to my theory that these models were for the German NPX-5C and not the Cardinal: there’s a four door model. Given the very challenging need to keep the costs for the Cardinal below the Falcon, I cannot imagine that Dearborn was even contemplating an intrinsically more expensive four door sedan, yet I can certainly see why Cologne would, given the nature of the German market. And Ford Werke did create a 4-door 12M. But there’s nothing to suggest that Dearborn ever considered a 4-door sedan.
I came to exactly the opposite conclusion. The timing of the launch of the four-door (which arrived one year after the two-door sedan and about six months after the Kombi) to me strongly suggests that it was conceived in Dearborn before the Cardinal A cancellation. The German market at the time still had a fairly strong preference for two-door sedans: The Kadett A never offered a four-door version, nor did the outgoing RWD Taunus 12M, and while the 17M P2 did, it was fairly rare. My read is that the four-door was designed as an afterthought in the U.S. program. It’s clear the two-door sedan was the biggest priority both for the U.S. and for Germany, probably due in part to Dearborn’s fixation on minimizing wholesale price, but I find it more likely that Dearborn became uneasy about offering the U.S. Cardinal without a four-door sedan. If they had been able to get the cost of the basic two-door sedan where they wanted it, also offering a four-door version on top of that would likely not have been an issue. (The aggressive cost and weight reduction program for the Falcon also focused on the basic two-door version, but there was of course also a four-door sedan.) In any case, I don’t think it’s very likely that Ford-Werke came up with the four-door on their own. If anything, I think there’s some chance that Köln got it as a hand-me-down. Some U.S. production tooling was actually delivered to Louisville before the Cardinal A was cancelled, so it’s conceivable that Dearborn had already received some tooling for the four-door and offered it to Ford-Werke, since otherwise it was going to have to be stored or scrapped.
I see that as irrelevant because that four door model or clay very obviously is not an actual Cardinal for all the reasons already given.
I disagree insofar as I think where and when the model was photographed is quite relevant in establishing where it fits into the development timeline. It’s possible that your theory is correct; my point is that I do not have enough evidence to make me confident that the model is indeed the German NPX-C5, or, even if it is, that its exterior styling was done in Köln rather than Dearborn (as one does not necessarily presume the other).
As for the Monza, the 12M P4 coupe was at least a significant step in that direction. Styling is a subjective matter, of course, but I think the coupe at least qualified as “pleasant,” and it had better proportions than the sedan, which looked like a man wearing an off-the-rack suit a half-size too large. The TS package, which was standard on the coupe and optional on the sedan, had bucket seats and such — the second-to-last photo, the brochure image of the woman in the red-and-white interior — reflects the TS trim, which at least in photos compares well with the Corvair Monza. Additionally, while the sedan’s dorkiness index was perilously high, the Kombi won back some points for its sheer utility, which might have found a niche as a “captive import” along the lines of the U.S.-market Cortina or Opel Kadett.
At the end of page 1, I am as impressed as ever with the scholarship and writings of the great Aaron Severson. Thank you sir for your wonderful work.
So, the German Ford V4, the bank angle was chosen for its narrowness or because it would work well with a 60 degree V6, or both?
Both, plus greater growth potential. The 20-degree V-4 was narrower and lighter, and using a single common cylinder head made it cheaper as well, but there wouldn’t have been much room for further displacement increases, which would have limited its utility for other Ford products. I don’t know how early they decided to make the V-4 the standard German Ford engine, but that certainly became a consideration, since Ford-Werke were going to be building a big new engine plant with lots of capacity they would need to utilize.
You wrote under the picture of the Taunus TC: “This 1600L has the 1,593 cc (97.2 cu. in.) version, which for some unaccountable reason Ford-Werke advertised as 1,576 cc in Germany.” The 1,593 cc figure is the real displacement of the engine, but the 1,576 cc figure is the displacement according to the then German tax formula where bore and stroke were rounded down to half millimetres before calculation, pi/4 was rounded down to 0.78, and the result was rounded down to full cubic centimetres. You mention above the 12M P6 with 1,305 cc whose owner had to pay the tax for a car with less than 1,300 cc because the displacement was only 1,288 cc according to the tax formula.
Thank you so much for clarifying that! I had gathered that there was some kind of taxable displacement rule involved, but I couldn’t figure out what the actual mechanics were, and I had despaired of finding out. I changed that line in the text to “… which Ford-Werke advertised in West Germany as 1,576 cc, its taxable displacement under contemporary German tax rules.” I added a similar note in the main text about the 1,305 cc engine in the 12M 1300.
Minor typo on page 3: “Autobahn cruising still returned a respectable 25 mph (9.4 L/100 km); ”
Should be 25 mpg?
Oops, yes, that should be mpg. I’ve corrected the text.
Was the 60 hp figure for the OHC prototype design in NPX-C5 for the 1-litre or 1.2-litre and were larger units envisaged? Would have been interesting to compare it to Ford UK’s 1.0-1.6 Kent engine or even Glas’s similar 1.0-1.7-litre OHC.
Ford Germany should have probably sought earlier integration with Ford UK and had some form of Kadett-sized NPX-C5 developed from an Anglia-based car or shortened Cortina platform, preceding both the Escort as well as of all things the Hyundai Pony (that had some Mk2 Cortina mechanicals IIRC).
Basically similar to what occurred between Vauxhall and Opel with the Kadett and Viva but with the Mk1-Mk2 Cortina and a smaller Kadett/Anglia-sized pre-Escort model, yet with a degree of independence for Ford UK and Germany on their respective small-block fours though allowing for collaboration on a 60-degree V6.
The 20-degree (or 30-degree) V4 seems like it could have amounted to something as a 1.1-1.4 up to 1.5-1.77 engine, also question the apparent inability to develop a narrow-angle V6 as BMC from the mid-50s to early-60s were also developing a narrow-angle 1.1-2.0 V4 and related V6 design for both FWD & RWD applications.
Would it be correct to assume a hypothetical US-spec automatic would have also featured 2-speeds as on the Falcon if not later a 3-speed?
Besides Brazil if not the rest of South America, did Ford look at foisting the Cardinal / Taunus P4-P6 at other markets like South Africa and elsewhere outside of Europe (or even the Eastern Bloc & Soviets – the latter in context of what became the Lada)?
I anticipated that you would ask this question! The answer to the first is that the 60 PS figure was a test bed figure for the 1-liter engine. (I have not found any source with actual bore or stroke dimensions for either version.) This likely represented a higher state of tune than Ford-Werke would have contemplated for street use at that point. As for larger versions, I don’t know. It’s plausible, since it ultimately made more sense for Ford-Werke to have one engine family rather than two, but I don’t know what Jules Gutzeit may have specifically yproposed along those lines.
Well, Wilner Sundelson proposed in 1956–1957 that Ford of England should table the Anglia 105E in favor of a European Common Car in the Anglia class. Hennessy was not keen on that — he felt Ford Ltd. was finally on a roll in the UK, and what Sundelson was proposing meant pushing the Anglia replacement back to 1962–1963 — and Sundelson was not in a position to force the issue. (A big part of the rationale for establishing Ford of Europe was that Ford-International did not have the resources or authority to coordinate the British and German programs, and because they were in New York rather than Dearborn, they didn’t really have the ear of the U.S. board.)
Part of the problem was that at the time, the economics of joint production really didn’t favor things like common engine designs; it didn’t make sense for Ford of England to import engines from Germany or vice versa. (This is in contrast to the basic assumption of the Cardinal project, which was that Ford-U.S. could save enough money with cheaper German labor to offset the costs of international shipping and import duties.) That’s why the Transit ended up with the two different 60-degree engine families.
If, as I theorize in the sidebar, Bond’s description of the narrow-angle engine is a reasonable reflection of its final form, it was to be 1,506 cc and 1,768 cc. My tentative guess is that the latter was probably pretty much the practical limit for production, given the block dimensions. As for a V-6 version, it is of course possible to do a narrow-angle V-6, as Volkswagen did later, but it would have presented new complications in engine balance, firing order, etc., with which Ford had little to no experience. A 60-degree V-6 was more expedient, since adding two more cylinders to the block actually alleviated some of the V-4’s balance problems and allowed the deletion of the balance shaft. (One may note that BMC did not actually move forward with its narrow-angle vee engines!)
Mechanix Illustrated predicted that Ford would scale down the Falcon two-speed to fit, which I think is plausible, since both space and power consumption would have been central priorities. I haven’t seen any confirmation of that, but I think a two-speed was far more likely, yes.
I doubt it. The V-4 and FWD power pack would probably have been nonstarters for the Warsaw Pact countries (too complicated, too inherently expensive). If the Cardinal tooling had ended up in South America, I have a suspicion (which I must emphasize is just a surmise, not based on any evidence of tangible plans) that it might have ended up adapted for a FR powertrain à la Triumph Toledo. As far as I know, there were no plans to do that with the Taunus P4 or P6, although of course the tooling for the P4 and P6 was actually used, and presumably amortized, in production of over 1.3 million cars, whereas the Brazilian idea was driven by wanting to do something with the Cardinal A body tooling, which Ford Division had bought and then put in storage.
What could Ford have done to remedy the reputation of the 60-degree V4 engines that have seen infamously panned for sounding rough amongst other things?
Concerning BMC’s narrow-angle efforts, have read reasons for remaining stillborn ranging from being too much of a radical departure, cost of a new factory / tooling, being Leonard Lord’s overambitious pet project that was canned when Harriman took over, apparent inability for transverse FWD installation (only inline Triumph 1300-style), weight/baulk and Syd Enever disliking the exhaust note of the V4.
I doubt Ford Brazil would have converted the Cardinal to a FR layout, they had little problem taking on Willys Overland’s Renault 12-based Project M and producing it as the Corcel.
That is not to say there would be modifications along the way for a Brazilian built Cardinal although do not know how capable the Taunus V4 / Cologne V6 likely was in being converted to run on Ethanol, nor if the platform could have been adapted to take on inline-fours. At least it would have made the South American Maverick a possible recipient of the Cologne V6.
The problem with the Cardinal is that it was expensive (the quill shaft and CV joints, even only outboard, saw to that) and had little opportunity for commonality with other models not derived from it. It could not use an inline-four without abandoning FWD, although a new floorpan to accommodate a driveshaft tunnel for a propeller shaft and Hotchkiss drive might well have been cheaper than either setting up additional V-4 production or buying engines from Germany.
Probably nothing much. The Taunus and Essex V-4s had even firing intervals and a balance shaft to sort the primary imbalance. With a 60-degree bank angle, it was always going to sound a bit odd, and there was nothing to be done about the secondary imbalance except to soften the powertrain mounts (which also meant abandoning the misguided “ponypak” concept) and add more sound insulation so occupants wouldn’t feel it or hear it as much. It was just a weird layout for a four, sacrificing smoothness for packaging. (The Pinto inline-four that eventually replaced the V-4 wasn’t a notably smooth or quiet engine either, even if it was more orthodox.)
It can be said the Cardinal was an expensive blind alley. One that drifted away from being a mass-produced American Lancia Fulvia with Consul Corsair like styling (as seen on what was claimed to be a Cardinal sketch against what entered production), to being a project that undermined not only Ford Germany’s NPX-C5 but in some ways delayed a more organic integration of Ford’s UK and German divisions with the imposition to develop separate related V4/V6 engines.
Both European divisions (and later North America) did benefit from developing V6s, however the V4s were an unnecessary distraction and in Ford UK’s case held them back from exploring alternatives such as developing a production Crossflow AX Block type engine to cover the 1600/1700-2000cc range like the Pinto did (in place of the Essex V4) or an expedient inline-six from Crossflow AX Block type engine as a replacement for the 1951-1966 Consul 4-cylinder/Zephyr 6-cylinder.
Cars like Ford UK’s Consul Corsair and others could have probably merited more success had they not been lumbered with the V4s.
The 60-degree V4s just seem like something that would have been better suited for non-Western markets where it could have a long production life, which would have allowed Taunus and Essex V4s to possibly benefit from developments seen on the Cologne and Essex V6s.
As I understand it, the primary reason the Essex V-4 came to exist was to facilitate the UK version of the Mk1 Transit, which was an extremely successful, segment-dominating product. I would agree that Ford of England’s passenger car applications for the engine (like the V-4 Corsair) were awfully eccentric, but I very much doubt Ford Ltd. felt the Transit was “an unnecessary distraction,” and Ford-Werke didn’t either.
This is I think backwards. The assumption here is that integrating Ford of England and Ford of Germany was an organic trend that had to be artificially restrained when it was really more the other way around: As with GM divisions in the U.S., there were many organic factors (not least among them inertia) that made their continued separation and opposition seem natural and logical. For instance, any theoretical advantage of sharing the same engines tended to be overshadowed by the need for multiple engine production lines in different, geographically separated plants, with the added issue of import duties when the UK was not yet part of the EEC.
The point is that these decisions were driven much more by manufacturing logistics than by product choices, and hyperfocusing on the latter to the exclusion of the former will usually lead to specious conclusions.
This was probably true. The fundamental problem as I see it is that Dearborn ended up strong-arming Ford-Werke into applying the fifties English Ford strategy in reverse. Ford Ltd. had had fair success with the Popular strategy, continuing a stripped-down version of an outgoing model as a price leader alternative to the newer, redesigned model. (They had for a while expected to do that with the Anglia 105E as well.) Dearborn was so fixated on price minimization for the Cardinal that they essentially started from that point, and Ford-Werke then had to work backward to recreate a less-crude, less-stripped-down iteration of that. Inasmuch as the Cardinal was a technologically ambitious project, it was also at root a relatively costly D-segment (or C-D) car that Ford tried to position as a C-segment competitor through de-contenting.
It is the strong-arm tactics of Dearborn as well as its quick divestment and pawning off of the Cardinal to an unenthusiastic Ford Germany, along with its interference (including in regard to Ford UK) that one finds irritating in hindsight.
To make a better case for selling a Cardinal size car in North America, should they have instead looked to South America to help atomise costs (via an earlier expansion of Ford Brasil) instead of West Germany?
Or should Cardinal have instead been envisaged more of an Americas only less technically ambitious scaled-down Falcon meets Mk1/Mk2 Cortina & Consul Corsair, with an engine resembling a sort of Thriftpower Four (like a Ford analogue of the Chevy 153) meets big block Kent-based Crossflow (some 20 years before the Australians collaborated with Honda on developing an aluminium Crossflow-head)?
The Polish-built Ford Falcon influenced FSO Warszawa 210 prototype for example before it was abandoned in favour of an agreement with Fiat to built the Polski Fiat 125p, was planned to use a Falcon Six inspired 4/6-cylinder engine with the 4-cylinder option showing a simpler path Ford could have taken. The same goes for the Viva HB-derived 2nd gen Holden Torana’s use of SWB and LWB versions for its 4/6-cylinder engines as something a simpler Cardinal sized car could have emulated.
The usage of high-pressure die-cast aluminium (leaving aside cost) does raise an interesting question as to anticipated weight reduction over the existing cast iron block of the Taunus V4 / Cologne V6. Could the V6 have been light enough to be viewed as a better alternative for the Ro80 by owners seeking to replace their rotary engines and reluctant to use the V4?
Were there other ways the Cologne V6 could have evolved which would have potentially negated the need to develop the Vulcan V6 depending what the differences in size and weight were? The UK Essex V6 using aluminium block was seemingly out of the question as it was designed to sire an unproduced diesel variant.
I can’t see Ford-U.S. being especially keen about relying on South American production in the early sixties, due mainly to concerns about political stability. Argentina from the Peron era forward is a case in point; even before the Dirty War, different governments’ expectations of foreign businesses kept shifting, and even if there were changes foreign automakers found favorable, there was no guarantee that they would last. Ford also had a particular terror of nationalization. (Beyond the risk of losing a local subsidiary, they were concerned about what that would mean for the Ford brand.)
On the flip side, there wouldn’t have been a lot of upside. I think there’s a case to be made that the Cardinal project was Dearborn’s way of talking itself into making the investments in Ford-Werke that they’d really needed to make for a while. (This is essentially Steven Tolliday’s argument, although I don’t agree with all of his points.) Ford were missing out a lot of the growth in the German market, and they understood that if Ford-Werke wasn’t prepared to build its presence in the Common Market, they were going to be leaving even more money on the table. However, Ford finance people, and McNamara, were exceptionally conservative; even in the U.S., they had a reflexive tendency to foot-dragging on any kind of significant capital investment, and they were very risk-adverse. This led Dearborn to virtually starve Ford-Werke for over a decade: Cologne was shaky because it needed more resources, but for the most part it didn’t get those resources because it was shaky, which made it a risk. Through 1959, Dearborn’s better idea for increasing German capacity was to find another automaker for Ford-Werke to merge with, so Ford could get additional capacity through some kind of stock swap rather than having to put up a lot of cash.
With the Cardinal, Dearborn, and in particular McNamara, essentially came up with a U.S. program that would force the issue: It would have a new powertrain and a new type of powertrain that would require a new engine plant, which it made more financial sense to built in West Germany — not, strictly speaking, for the benefit of Ford-Werke, but for the benefit of Ford-U.S., to meet a pressing domestic need. To make the European part of the program pay, they needed more space to build it, which meant biting the bullet and finally building an additional Ford-Werke plant rather than waiting in vain for a merger partner. If the program had been different, if it had been something it would have only made sense to build in the U.S. (such as, as you suggest, a scaled-down Falcon with a four-cylinder version of the Falcon six), or if it had just been the RWD NPX-C5 Cologne wanted, there would have been no rationale for the rest, which the company ultimately needed more than they needed a cut-down Falcon.
I don’t know that anyone in Ford management necessarily articulated it that way — probably not — but that’s what it came down to: using anticipated or putative U.S. need to rationalize major improvements in European capacity. The way Dearborn handled it was extremely heavy-handed and in the short term made Andrews, Layton, and company very unhappy, but it got Ford-Werke the new engine plant and the factory in Genk, which they probably wouldn’t have gotten otherwise, at least not in anything like the same timeframe. Without those plants, they could still have produced their RWD P4, but probably at closer to the volume of the earlier 12M, which was usually mediocre. The FWD P4 sold more cars in four years than the earlier 12M and 15M had managed in ten, in large part because Ford-Werke now had the capacity to build that many. That the U.S. Cardinal was canceled ended up being a minor point, because by the time it was canceled, the new engine plant was about done and Ford-Werke had already bought the land in Genk, so the wheels were in motion for that expansion.
Like I said the other day, this whole weird mess, like a great many automotive topics, has to be understood in terms of production logistics rather than product engineering.
Ludvigsen’s account suggests that for the Taunus V-4, an aluminum block would have saved around 30 lb. I don’t know that they gave any serious consideration to aluminum heads, which would have saved a bit more. The iron 1.5-liter V-4 was 265–270 lb dry, which would suggest a dry weight of maybe 240 lb with just an aluminum block, perhaps 225 lb with aluminum heads.
I really don’t know, but obviously that wasn’t any kind of development objective for either Ford-Werke or NSU.
The need for the Vulcan V-6 had much more to do with — once again — production logistics than with engine design. With the introduction of the Taurus/Sable, Ford needed a lot more V-6 engines. The 2.8/2.9-liter Cologne V-6 was already being heavily used in North American trucks and SUVs as well as the bigger European Ford cars and Transit, and the subsequent 4.0-liter version would be needed in truly staggering numbers for the U.S. Ford Explorer. (Cologne built 3.94 million 4.0-liter pushrod V-6s in 12 years, where total production of ALL the smaller Cologne V-6s was 5.55 million in 34 years.) So, they needed an engine they could build domestically in sufficient numbers to power a big chunk of Taurus/Sable production (which was a lot), and that could also replace the Cologne engine in U.S. trucks and vans to start freeing up capacity in Cologne for the 4.0-liter engine. Any design considerations for the Vulcan were at best secondary.
Thanks for the enlightening responses. It is interesting to compare Ford’s approach to its European divisions vs General Motors, where they were at one time thinking of cutting their losses with Opel before deciding to invest massively and Opel over time capitalising on Vauxhall’s misfortune (and the decline/cost of Bedford as GM Europe’s commercial division).
Touching upon Ford SAF for a second, did the stillborn Dearborn designed pre-war French market version of the Taunus differ significantly from its German and UK counterparts?
Depending on Ford SAF’s approach to a post-war Taunus-esque model and prospects for success relative to the 12CV Vedette, they would have likely carried French tax horsepower ratings of 5CV (933), 7CV (1172) and 9CV (1498 aka Taunus 15M – planned for G93A in SV form).
Probably not. The British and German 933 cc and 1,172 cc engines were, to the best of my understanding, basically the same design, probably differing in minor details to suit different local manufacture and supply requirements, and I have no reason to think the French version would have been very different. (The 15M 1.5-liter engine was not related to the older 8HP/5 CV or 10HP/7CV engines; the 1.5-liter four was an oversquare OHV postwar design, whereas the others were thirties-vintage sidevalve fours.)
This is essentially the object of the Tolliday paper I mentioned, which is entitled “Transplanting the American Model? US Automobile Companies and the Transfer of Technology and Management to Britain, France, and Germany, 1928–1962,” Chapter 3 of a book called Americanization and Its Limits: Reworking US Technology and Management in Post-War Europe and Japan (Oxford University Press, 2000). (Tolliday is a professor at the University of Leeds.) I’m not persuaded by all of his arguments, and he makes some unfortunate factual blunders — for instance, he mistakenly conflates the revived Buckel-Taunus with the facelifted versions of the 1952-vintage 12M/15M — but he makes some important points, and I would recommend that chapter.
Quite a few years ago I read something, quite possibly in CAR magazine, to the effect that “that nail of a V-4 has been sent back to the Transit range whence it came.”
I gather that the Essex V-4’s level of NVH was acceptable in a van and was acceptable in a passenger car–until it wasn’t.
The Essex V-4 differed in various respects from the Taunus V-4, in particular in that it had crossflow heads with Heron-type (bowl-in-piston) combustion chambers. This provided better breathing and had some advantages in terms of emissions, but even Ford admitted that it made for harsher combustion, especially at low speeds, to which was added the inherent secondary imbalance and odd engine note that came with the 60-degree V-4 layout. (Of course, the OHC Pinto I-4 was not a particularly smooth or sweet engine either, nor was the subsequent CVH engine, which was notoriously harsh and thrashy.) Ford made things harder on itself by using the V-4 in models like the Corsair, which was sort of notionally aimed at the more upscale 2-liter Rover P6 and Triumph 2000, near-luxury cars that (especially in the case of the Triumph) were notably more refined.