“No one’s perfect,” as they say (except for my wife, obviously, in case she reads this), and the things we ones make are imperfect too. That certainly applies to cars, and even those vehicles that come nearest to the flawless combination of form, function, performance, and practicality still have irksome errors in design or execution that can annoy if not outright boggle the mind. An ill-placed door pull that rubs your knee in exactly the wrong spot. A rear-seat center headrest precisely placed to block your view out the back window. The cupholders in the S197 Mustang that made it impossible to enjoy a manual transmission and a Big Gulp simultaneously.
Or, perhaps there’s a bit of bum styling that offends your eye. My example–and perhaps an example only for me–is the first-gen Capri’s character line. It’s a thick spear that shoots down the side of the body and over the wheel wells like a three-dimensional speed line, only go limp and tuck behind the rear wheel. I’ve always loved the Capri’s crisp mini-musclecar vibe, but that abrupt turn is just ugh. Really kills the vibe, and I feel a straight line would have been superior. Judge for yourself … and the see how I have been judged.
1972 Mercury Capri image via Bring a Trailer
You may disagree! Lord knows Adrian and Jason did. One of the greatest–heck, thee greatest–things about working here is collaborating with the best and brightest writers and creatives, whom I admire greatly. Even if their tough love makes me wonder if they even tough-like me: 
Four out of five dentists recommend Whore Mouth toothpaste, FYI.
Had I thought of my Mustang-cupholders example earlier, this all could have been avoided.
FYI if you like that little peak behind the curtain: we collect the week’s best (or worst, as the case may be) high jinks for Tales From The Slack, a “members only” feature each week. It’s included with every membership tier including Cloth. You don’t want to miss that! Become a Member today– right now, even!
While I love my 1966 Thunderbird dearly, Ford is not infallible and some decisions are baffling. Why are the front springs mounted to the upper control arm, necessitating huge shock towers that come within an inch of the exhaust manifolds and make the engine bay ridiculously claustrophobic for a 60s car? These are supposed to be easy to fix, but not the ’66 T-bird… not without an engine hoist, at least.
And why are the bolts for the exhaust manifolds exposed from the backside, allowing water to drip down in there through heat cycles, practically guaranteeing that some of them will seize over time and be crazy hard to remove without breaking, assuming you have in fact hoisted the engine already because those bolts are inaccessible otherwise?
Also why no overdrive? I mean I get they were expensive back then (and still are bafflingly so now) but heck, this was an expensive car back then! That would’ve been a much-appreciated luxury feature for a luxury car, but nope.
Also the interior is beautiful but whoever designed how it’s put together was on drugs, and I want to punch whoever designed the headlight switch. And the radio. And the speakers. And the version of the dashboard with no A/C, because everyone ordered one with A/C EXCEPT the original owner of mine. It be hot in there yo.
Also fun fact, the weird tire size my car originally used is no longer made, so I have to use slightly wider tires that rub a bit with the steering at full lock (:
It’s backwards. Should curve over the front. Send mouthwash to my ex- brother-in-law. I never liked him anyway.
That turn-down on the Capri is one of the BEST bits about its styling. And go Google image search Capri drag cars and come back and try to tell me that turn-down doesn’t look even better with a huge set of rear slicks tucked into that wheelarch!
I think I need to go get me some of that toothpaste too!
And in addition, my uncle had a purple V6 Capri when I was a kid, and it was the coolest car any of my relatives owned by far! He only sold it when he built the first of a string of Miata racecars he owned up till recently (I don’t think he stopped racing them until somewhere in his 70s!)
In my Avantime the screen for the built-in navigation doesn’t dim with the rest of the dash. It’s full bright, always. Way too bright at night.
You can turn off the system, but the screen remains fully backlit.
I’ve stuck one of those sticky pads (for holding your cellphone or whatnot in place on the dash) over it.
It’s not an aesthetic design feature, but I absolutely loved my 2003 Mini Cooper S except for the headlights being on the hood and how Fing awkward it was to replace a bulb. Whoever decided that deserves to step on a LEGO brick barefoot for every burned out bulb on that generation.
I actually had a 1973 Ford Capri my first couple of years in college. Bright red, kind of like the flashing light of a lightning bug for attracting the opposite sex. Personally I liked the design features turn down. The European version was quite popular in Italy, where I lived before going off to University. Now the average Italian has more style sense in the tip of the pinky finger that any large group of Americans encompass in their combined mass. They liked it. My Italian girlfriend liked their look. Which really sold it for me. Don’t quite get what you’re going on about. The straight line makes it look like an Austin Marina. A look only John Cleese’s father could have liked.
Hmm. My ’72 Capri did not seem to have that effect on the ladies. Then again, its nickname was the Grungemobile, and this was many years before “grunge” was positively associated with a style of music.
Rust. It feels like a feature on my Scout 800.