The secret to small-car success cannot be found in an options list
Car and Driver, June 1974
The two faces of the
Janus or the three faces of Eve can seem like some kind of pretty remarkable
schizoid behavior. But it's nothing compared to the multiplicity of Pintos. You
have to move up to a pinochle deck before you're approaching Pinto numbers.
Ford's idea of a simple little car to replace the simple old Falcon which, after
a considerable time lag, supposedly replaced the Model A, which in turn replaced
the Model T ... has already gone off on a tangent.
Today's Pintos are
dealt out from the factory in three distinct suits: 2-door sedan, 3-door
hatchback and station wagon. The rank within those suits is determined by the
option list: two engines, two transmissions, three different wheels, five
different size tires, an Accent Group, a Sports Accent Group, a Luxury Decor
Group, a Squire Decor Group, a Bumper Protection Group, an Appearance Protection
Group, vinyl roof, sun roof and enough seperate bright-metal exterior trim
pieces to blind oncoming traffic by the freeways full. That's what has happened
to the simple little lovable Pinto since Ford introduced it in the fall of
1970.
Some of the models, the station wagon particularly, have undeniable
star quality. They are roomy machines with crisp good looks and functional
personalities. Others -- notably the automatic transmission hatchback of this
test -- have serious mechanical weaknesses. What follows is a guide to the
various ups and downs of the option sheet -- dealing strictly with the Pinto in
this case but indicative of the pitfalls lurking in the Chinese-menu
construction of almost all option sheets.
The basic Pinto is a reasonable
transportation device for four people. The front seating area seems
exceptionally spacious because the instrument panel is well forward. Moreover,
the wide body and low bucket seat cushions allow plenty of elbow and shoulder
room. And even the rear has acceptable knee room for adults if the front seat
passengers are willing to compromise a notch or two on their seat tracks. The
Runabout, with its tilt-up rear hatch and fold-down rear seat, allows you to
trade off rear seating area for a considerably anlarged cargo hold. It's a first
rate design and, at $126 over the cost of the base 2 door sedan, well worth its
price.
In fact, if everthing about the Pinto worked as it should, we
would have no complaints about the price even though Ford has pushed it up by a
considerable amount ($271) in 1974. Ford is obviously trying to put its small
car line on a profitable footing -- not an unreasonable goal -- and the rapidly
rising prices of the small imports give it plenty of room for increases. Even at
$2418 for the base Runabout, Ford is still able to undersell the foreign-made
competition.
When it comes to increasing profits, all Detroit
manufacturers are aware that there are other ways besides raising the base
price. One of the most effective is a smorgasbord-style option list. And the
Pinto now has one of it own. We view this with mixed emotions. On the favorable
side, it means that Ford has finally cast aside that old myth that says a small
car must necessarily be a cheap one. There is no reason why car buyers shouldn't
have comfort, silence and luxury in small packages as well as big ones. And by
ordering a Pinto with the Sports Accent Group $428, you can have an undeniably
luxurious small car.
But the problem arises in the way some of these
Groups are assembled. As an example, the Sports Accent Group contains a really
effective (and needed) sound package. The test car without the benefit of the
sound package droned along with an interior sound level of 79 dBa at a constant
70 mph, which is on the high side for a car of this class. But to get this sound
package you have to buy the whole Sports Accent Group including color-keyed
wheel covers, bright trim molding on everything, 2-tone paint and a double
deluxe interior with imitation wood grain on the dash and cut pile on the floor
. . . all $428 worth of Detroit-style ostentation just to get a reasonably
silent car. It's a stiff price. And an unwelcome one, we think, at least to the
small-car buyers who want the minimum in garbage.
The Pinto base price
increase seems somewhat more reasonable when you remember that, in addition to a
massive set of bumpers that are new for 1974, you also get the 2.0-liter engine
as standard equipment. It was optional before. Now, as an option, you can choose
an all-new 2.3-liter overhead cam Four. This engine has two distinctions: (1)
it's the first American-made powerplant designed with metric dimensions, and (2)
for a 4-cylinder of such large displacement, it is commendably free of
vibrations (2.3 liters, you will remember, is exactly the same size as the Four
which shakes the living daylights out of a Vega.) So on the surface, Ford's new
engine appears to be a good thing.
There was only one thing wrong. It's
rated at 82 hp, but it felt like 28. The test car, huffing and puffing mightily,
managed the quarter-mile in 21.5 seconds at 64.8 mph and peaked out at an 84-mph
top speed. A 4-speed Beetle could blow it into the weeds.
This seems all
the more disappointing in light of the fuel mileage we recorded. Routine driving
yeilded about 16 miles per gallon of regular and that was when we stuck to the
55-mph speed limit. That agrees quite closely with the EPA results of 21.0 mpg
for a 4-speed 2300cc Pinto and 16.7 mpg for the automatic. But since the EPA
test includes a cold start and the fuel consumed is calculate from the exhaust
emission rather than actually measured, we decided to set up our own test to see
if the gap between the manual and the automatic transmission is really as large
as it appears. Because of the time required to set up the test, the original
test car had already been returned. So two 1974 Pintos, one manual and one
automatic, were obtained from a rental agency. The 4-speed car averaged 20.6 mpg
the entire cycle and 26.6 mpg at a constant 60 miles an hour. The automatic
averaged 18.2 mpg overall and 22.3 mpg at 60 mph. This is substantially better
that the original test car and indicates a considerable variation in production
cars. But the substantial mileage gap between manual and automatic is confirmed.
The test Pinto suffered two additional ways: a huge weight increase for 1974 and
an automatic transmission. With a full tank of gas, this Runabout weighed in at
2680 lbs., up a full 345 lbs. from the 2.0-liter, 4-speed Runabout we tested
last year. Of that increase, about 37 lbs. can be charged off to the larger
engine, 47 lbs to the automatic transmission and another 17 to the roof rack.
Which means that the bumpers and other dtail refinements have added a crushing
244 lbs. to that new model. its no wonder that steering effort was high and the
non-assisted brakes required a strong leg for stopping.
As for the
automatic transmission, we are unable and Ford is unwilling to explain why it is
such an unhappy companion to the Pinto's 4-cylinder engines. It should be
avoided. There is a noticeable improvement in both performance (2.8 seconds and
8.0 mph in the quartermile) and fuel economy with the manual transmission. So if
you can't shift, don't buy a Pinto. It's as simple as that. The automatic
version is devoid of even the simplest driving pleasures.
The same
applied to handling. There was nothing treacherous about it. The Pinto was just
limp. With the factory recommended 22 psi in the BR78 radials, the cornering
limits were very low and the car approached then with inexorable understeer. The
rubber bushings in the suspension deflected, the tires rolled over on their
sidewalls and the car stumbled around like a fat man in ski boots . . . OK for
the wife to take shopping maybe, but a real disappointment for anybody who like
to drive.
This is not to say that the Pinto is all bad. The ride is
reasonably smooth for a small car, it has quite good directional stability, the
front seats are comfortable and the general layout of the instruments and
controls is convenient. All of this is as it should be.
The fact remains
that the test car was not only inefficient but exquisitely dull as well. We
approve of the comprehensive option list -- it allows a basic car to be tailored
to a broad range of customers -- but it can never provide salvation for a poorly
engineered car. And the 1974 Pinto, burdened down by it enormous weight and
shackled by a power robbing automatic transmission, needs salvation first and
foremost. The Big Car options are in conflict with the car's very reason for
existing. It's the Silk Purse Syndrome in action. Fortunately, this can be
avoided in most instanced . . . simply exercise restraint when confronted with
the options list, and follow the advice printed in the Pinto's advertisements
about sticking with the basics.
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