One afternoon, in late summer 1999, I was nonchalantly heaving a large suitcase into the trunk of my car, in a parking lot at London’s Heathrow airport.
“Is this your car? It’s so cool!” she said in her deep Appalachian accent.
A fountain of bright red hair. Cheekbones like geometry and (green) eyes like sin. I somehow know and yet cannot know that in just over a year later I will marry this woman in a small chapel in North Carolina. As I turn the key and the 2.8 injection V6 rumbles loudly into life through the barest of legally required mufflers, the opening riff to L’il Devil by The Cult erupts from the stereo.
Livin’ in a shack in a one-horse town
Trying to get to heaven ‘fore the sun goin’ down
I think my life peaked right there, to be honest.
I loved that car – a 1985 Regency Red Ford Capri 2.8 injection Special. The car I always promised myself. A while later it was stolen from outside my house (another story in itself), and I’ve long yearned for another. Because the Capri 2.8 injection is probably my absolute favorite car. Ever. As a car mad eight-year-old I was transfixed when I saw the television advert – lightning striking the rear of the car to leave you in no doubt how fast it was. And for 1981, when the mighty 2.8 injection was introduced, they were bloody quick cars – 160bhp, 0-60 in less than eight seconds and a top speed of 130mph. It was a few months before I saw one on the road, but I recall it vividly – parked on the Barking Road, outside Rathbone Market near our house. Jet black, wide 13” Wolfrace Sonic alloy wheels smeared in Goodyear low profiles, twin exhausts, subtle red pinstriping and a black and white tartan interior.
It was by far the coolest fucking thing I had ever seen. A vision of speed and style in a grubby, hardscrabble part of the world. I was completely smitten. So decades later why didn’t I buy another one instead of making a slightly questionable Italian decision? Good question, and one I reflect on regularly. I did consider it, but classic Fast Ford prices have been burdened by a massive scene tax for a while now, and as much as I love them a good one is hard to justify at over thirty grand.
Names Are For Tombstones, Baby
The last Capri was built on 19th December 1986 – after a production run of nearly twenty years and two million cars, but the truth is it had been living on borrowed time for a while. A two-door coupe with ancient live axle undercarriage kept on life support by an adoring British public as the everyman sporting car market moved on to hot hatchbacks. By then the Carpi did have something of an image problem–it was basically an Essex Camaro.
But now, after a 38-year gap, Ford have launched a new one. Well, a new something, because my friends it is categorically fucking not a Capri. It’s an insult. An abomination that should never have been born. The paint-drinking thundercock who came up with this thing should be fired from a trebuchet off the end of Southend pier on a Saturday night in full view of every single member of the Capri Club. I’ll sell the tickets. Everyone else involved with the design, conception, and execution of this unholy bastard should be rounded up, strapped into a chair and forced to watch reruns of The Professionals with their eyes pinned open like Alex in A Clockwork Orange. And then kicked by a donkey in the privates. Repeatedly. Because if we’re just slapping heritage names on any old shit willy-nilly, then what in bloody hell are we even doing?
Now you might think I’m being saltier than usual and taking this whole new Capri thing very personally, and you’re goddamn right I am. No doubt, somewhere over in darkest Dunton, some shiny suited worm eater from the marketing department with a tie knot bigger than his head, is showing his boss all the rage engagement statistics and saying see, I told you calling it Capri would work. It’s a free marketing buy. Well done, double Proseccos all ’round. And in hate-typing this piece, I’m contributing to that digital outrage. Well, given my love for the original, if I didn’t let everyone know exactly how I felt in a forthright manner I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. And I’m not the only one who feels this way. The original press release on the Ford UK Facebook page was deleted after 300 negative comments, and I waded through over 25 pages of mostly angry comments on Pistonheads (the UK’s main car forum) so you don’t have to. So you don’t have to take my word for it – the UK enthusiast community is pissed.
They Chose Capri Violence Over Diplomacy
Why did Ford of Europe choose Capri violence over diplomacy? What possessed the product planning department, presumably all suffering a communal fit of insanity, to think that this could in any way, in any shape, on any fucking planet, possibly be a good idea? I’ve already mentioned the free buzz generated by the digital outrage but that alone cannot explain the temptation to step onto a potential PR landmine of galactic proportions. The truth is Ford have already got their eye in with this sort of bullshit, so it probably seemed worth the risk.
The Mustang Mach E cultivated similar outrage in the US by hammering the skin of a Mustang onto a five-door electric SUV. And in Europe, Ford replaced the beloved Fiesta hatchback with the Puma, another name from the slightly more recent history books. But the difference is, in the case of the Mach E it wasn’t a replacement – so all those built tough Ford fans with Mustang underpants could still buy the genuine article. They were never going to lose customers. With the Puma, the pert Ian Callum original, with its singing Yamaha engine and Steve McQueen television adverts never had anything like the same level of cultural cachet as the Capri. And by all accounts (I’ve not driven one, and probably never will if Ford UK PR read this) it’s a great little family crossover. [Ed note: Wait, I drove it, it was awesome! – MH]
Before I help myself to another line of rage cocaine, let’s put all that to one side for a moment. An argument can be made that people don’t buy low-slung two-door coupes anymore. Ignoring for a second the slightly inconvenient fact that the normal Mustang is the best-selling sports coupe across Europe, we know customers buy crossovers and, like it or not, the coupe crossover is now an established category in the automotive market. So, you might not blame Ford of Europe for wanting to introduce one. Except they already sell the Mustang Mach E here, so what the actual fuck? Another argument I’ve heard made is that legacy OEMs are shitting their collective knickers about the imminent invasion of cheap, tech-heavy, well-built EVs from China. I’m still on the fence about this assumption – maybe in softer, less brand-sensitive markets it will happen – but European countries tend to be incredibly loyal to their domestic manufacturers, and the UK in particular, as I’ve said before is a very, very snobbish and fashionable market when it comes to cars. So the theory goes all legacy OEMs have to stem this tide are tariffs and something no Chinese brand has – heritage. A back catalog of greatest hits they can dust off and rerelease, to push nostalgia buttons and differentiate themselves in the eyes of consumers. The more charitable among you then might be thinking in that case, resurrecting the Capri name on a coupe crossover sort of makes sense. Apart from the fact the original was an aspirational, affordable two-door coupe for the working man (or woman), and the new one is a raised ride height four-door that starts at forty eight fucking thousand pounds, there’s another teensy weensy issue with it.
It’s absolutely fucking gopping.
The Design Is Just Plain Bad
It’s been compared to a Polestar 2: in a hilarious bit of corporate shade Polestar CEO Thomas Ingenlath compared the two cars in an Instagram story that now appears to be deleted. But the truth is the Polestar is a great looking car with much better proportions, and strong sense of its own minimalist identity: a Volvo for people who live in concrete houses with no furniture.
Let’s look at the two cars side by side. The Capri has a fractionally longer wheelbase at 109” (2765mm) compared to the Polestar’s 108” (2735mm) but because the Capri at 64” (1626mm) high is nearly six whole inches taller, everything else, including the cowl and the beltline has to pulled up to compensate, making the whole thing look too high. And talking of the cowl, look at where the base of the windscreen is on both cars. The Capri’s is very fractionally further forward, and it has slightly less curve to the windshield, which brings the A-pillar and the leading shut line of the front door closer to the front wheel. There’s a tiny amount more dash-to-axle ratio on the Polestar, and it makes all the difference, making the wheelbase of the Polestar appear longer, even though it is in fact an inch shorter.
Given the Capri is supposed to be a coupe, why didn’t Ford make more effort to make it lower like the Polestar? Clearly stuffing the floor with cells in the usual EV fashion isn’t the driver of this inflated dimension because guess where the batteries are in the Polestar. No. The problem is the Volkswagen MEB platform the Capri is built on.
All the Volkswagen ID electric vehicles, with the exception of the ID Buzz because it’s a van, suffer from the same excess of verticality. But what makes it worse in the case of the Capri is the fact it is essentially the new electric Explorer in sneakers. They have identical interiors and even share the exact same doors. Ford is making a big deal about the curved shape on the rear of the Daylight Opening, and how it references the classic Capri rear window shape, but it’s totally wrong. It doesn’t have enough curve and the apex is in the wrong place because the shape of it is driven by having to use the same glazing and door frames as the Explorer. No wonder there was no scope to take any height out of it. They totally phoned it in. Here, see for yourself:
Don’t Leave Me This Way
Why fart out another anonymous piece of bloated EV shovelware onto the crowded crossover market? It’s possible there’s an excess of line capacity to be used, but the Explorer isn’t available yet, so that reasoning seems unlikely. Have Ford and VW misread the market so much that they are taking the blunderbuss approach, spinning as many models off of MEB as possible with the barest minimum of extra investment, hoping a beloved name will pick up the slack and make one of them a hit? Fuck my life. Names mean something.
Heritage for car companies (or any company really) mean something – it defines who you are, what you stand for and gives your products meaning. They provide an emotional anchor to your brand in the eyes of customers and loyalists. If they become just a label, they lose all of that goodwill and connection. They shouldn’t be squandered by cynical marketing departments. But it doesn’t have to be like this. You know how I know? The Capri was released last week at the Goodwood Festival of Speed. You know what else was shown at the same event? A brand new version of another fondly remembered low-slung two-door coupe from the eighties with a glittering heritage – the Honda Prelude. If Ford had any sense of treating their storied history in the same way that’s how they would have approached a new Capri. If only they had a EuroNCAP-compliant, RWD two-door platform they could adapt to build such a car…
In the meantime, I’m not getting (and don’t want) the wife back but I can replace my old red 2.8 injection. With a black one this time, obviously. Anyone want to buy a Ferrari?
Unless otherwise stated, all images courtesy of Ford Media and The Ford Heritage Vault.
Cool design.
Naughty step. Now.
How about after?
Matron will deal with you.
Perhaps the success of the Maverick emboldened Ford to use the Capri nameplate for something completely different from the original namesake. Unfortunately for them, the newer Maverick is successful in spite of its ill-gotten name, not because of it.
Because it’s a well considered, thoughtfully designed car with a clear brief. Who’d would have thought it?
Sorry about the stolen car. Sorry about the wife. I met a girl who had the red hair, attractive face and green eyes you describe, freshman year in college. She was the underage sister of a classmate and friend. So, NOTHING happened. I had a Datsun 510 “estate” then, so that wasn’t going to change the equation.
That was nearly 50 years ago. I wonder what happened to her. I know what happened to the Datsun. I handed it over to my younger brother a few years later when I bought my first car on my own. Its demise wasn’t pretty.
This is a terrible design that is like the Temu version of the Polestar2.
As an Australian I do feel slightly miffed at your statement that there has been no Capri in 38 years when clearly the convertible Capri of the 90s exists.
I think Ford of Europe were thinking of bringing that to Europe at one point. I remember Autocar featuring on the cover.
So glad Toyota hasn’t besmirched the fine reputation of the 1980’s Tercel with a high slabby sided SUV using other car parts and with wierdly proportioned greenhouse and detailing.
My ’84 Tercel 4X4 Wagon was perfectly slab-sided but without the high part. It was unstoppable in snow.
If I lived on a farm and had a barn, someone might have found a dusty example of that Tercel off in a corner. Or maybe first and foremost. It really was a fun little car.
Honda had the 4X4 Wagovan in roughly the same era and I would have loved to have had one of those too.
From a lisitng on BringaTrailer:
“Like Toyota’s Tercel 4WD of the era, these are slow, utilitarian, boxy things, but with an honest, enthusiastic character completely unlike anything available in modern small cars.”
Both spoke quietly and delivered big capability.
So, are you saying that we wouldn’t want to see what kind of wildlife this new Capri model would attract at the Heathrow parking lot?
First they came for the Eclipse, and I did not speak out because I don’t drive an Eclipse.
Then they came for the Blazer, and I did not speak out because I don’t drive a Blazer.
Then they came for the Hornet, I said nothing for I don’t drive a Hornet.
Then they came for The Capri…
Wow that’s dark. Perfect for an Adrian article.
I wish there would be more articles like this whenever a turd of a product gets dropped on the public. I know, high expectations.
Alfa Romeo Milano was recently forced to be renamed to Junior after threats of legal action form the Italian government. But this is Britain. And to put it on a VW platform of all things… What an absolute abomination.
Go off, Ford’s only recent successes have been the Maverick and Bronco, and apart from the pickups and vans nothing else really interests me.
I didn’t know about the Puma, which seems like similar debased coin. As a teenager I pored over Ford brochures for Capri and Granada, comparing them with Fairmonts and Tempos so I share your outrage. As with numerous “reimaginings” of popular media this was done by people with no understanding. The smooth brains in the marketing echo chamber have probably seen a few pictures of a Capri but never driven one. I feel much the same about the Blazer, Pathfinder and Mach E, all variations on the same crossover.
I’ve been waiting for this article from you, and it was exactly what I was hoping for. As an American, this isn’t my heritage that was squandered, so I don’t have the vitriol you have for this piece of shit. But I felt exactly this level of outrage when GM shit the bed on the anonymous blob that is the current Chevy Blazer. So I empathize.
My first car was a Ford Capri with the 2.8 that I inherited from an uncle that was moving overseas. I was 19 and pretty clueless about cars. The Capri did give me my first lesson in replacing a brake master cylinder. I had some good times in that car. Weirdly enough, my uncle had ordered the car without any radio, so I would bring a blaster with me (this was in the 80’s).