The year is 1973. You’re on the board of Ford at Dearborn, and you’ve got a challenge. For the ’74 model year, you need a new Mustang. Something that would rekindle the success and excitement of Lee Iacocca’s first sub-$2.5k Mustang of ten years earlier – a smash hit that nobody predicted, least of all you. Something that would build on the cool factor of Frank Bullitt’s ‘68 390, and give you a tighter grip on the greasy FoMoCo pole.
Just two problems. One, you’d been partly responsible for signing off the paunchy, overweight ’69 Mustang refresh. That didn’t go down well, especially the putrid vinyl-roofed Mustang Grande. Even the quick but portly Boss and Mach 1 versions hadn’t managed to stifle the sniggers from gloating GM and Chrysler fans.
And two, 1973 was the year of fuel rationing. That meant the new Mustang had to look like it was cheap to run. Everyone knew that whole oil thing was a crock, but the flower-power people from Berkeley were in control and you weren’t allowed to voice any dangerous opinions.
Thud! The answer to all your problems – you hope – has just landed on your desk. It’s the styling roughs for the new Mustang II. Okay, let’s just take a look-see here, and… oh. Hello, Miss Jones? Could you arrange for my pension contributions to be doubled please? With immediate effect. Yes. Thank you.
We can only guess at the feeling in the pit of a Mustang’s enthusiast’s stomach when this hideous blob wobbled into the local Ford dealership. We can only wonder at what irresistible hypnotic force made the designer think his job was finished when he’d reached this point.
What’s wrong with it? It’s difficult to know where to start, but that hateful profile is as good a place as any. To appease flowery folk, the Mk 2 Mustang had to be smaller than the Mk 1, so it was built on a substantially shorter floorpan.
But back in the days of Dirk Diggler, length was everything. Front and rear overhang were good, positive topics, especially when aired in Hooters bars.
Sadly, some might say, cars are not topless waitresses. The combination of a short wheelbase, a long body and 13-inch wheels is not a good look, even if you secretly admire the planting trolley that your gran wheels around her garden.
Things were no better at the front either, with the original Mustang’s simple but subtly threatening style being replaced by the wounded, shocked look of an OAP exhaling hard through his gums after a swift and unexpected kick in the cobblers.
What about inside? Well, if phrases like ‘woodgrain appointments’ and ‘rich button-tuck upholstery’ didn’t fill you with grim foreboding, you probably would have loved it.
There were some good points about the Mustang II. Well, one good point anyway. New suspension and a tauter build did improve the ride and handling. Unfortunately, the addition of smog and safety equipment made the Mk 2 heavier than the Mk 1. Even that wouldn’t have been too disastrous if the engines had been man enough for the task, but due to the powersapping effects of smog-filtering equipment, they weren’t.
From 1975, you could at least get a 5-litre V8, but before that you were stuck with Ford’s faithful old 2.8 OHV V6 smoker or a groaning 2.3-litre SOHC four of such staggering impotence most owners didn’t even bother to start it.
It was quicker to cut a hole in the floor and pedal it along, Flintstone-style. If you got 90 out of it, you threw a party. Ironically, given its design brief, fuel consumption was abysmal as your throttle boot was permanently mashed to the floor.
Ford was inundated by letters from outraged Mustang owners asking what the hell the company was playing at. The fallout from these flabby new ‘Stangs was seriously undermining their standing in the community.
There was no answer from Dearborn. Pony-botherers would have to wait another five years for scant consolation in the shape of the ’78 Mustang III, an appalling sequel which made any Mustang owner feel good about their Mk 2 by somehow managing to trump it in all-round awfulness.
Oddly, quite a few Mustang IIs made it to the UK. British buyers tended to be either retired sweetshop owners living in bungalows just outside Whitby, or bored trophy wives running poodle-grooming salons in Cheshire for a little extra pin money. For these folk, Mustang motoring consisted of opening up the garage door once a fortnight and running a mini-vac around the interior. They didn’t want to put miles on their posh American car as it was surely going to be worth a lot of money in the future.
They were, of course, horribly wrong. But not for the reasons you’d think. The Mustang II simply wasn’t rare enough to gain value because – incredibly – it notched up over a million sales. Not bad for a pony car...
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