| |
Title Fight: Monza V-8 vs. Mustang V-8
by Steve Spence
|
There is an atmosphere in the automotive camps of Ford and Chevrolet, where the Mustang V-8 and the Monza V-8 are built, that is not dissimilar to the edginess you find in training camps prior to The Big Fight.
The partisans in each camp, however, play down the competitiveness that is mounting over the upcoming sales and prestige battle between these two sporty powerhouses. "Oh, the bigh news here," said a Mustang engineer, "is the Maverick-Monarch." But almost in the same breath he asks, with detectable excitement, "Uh, have you fellahs, uh, driven the Monza?" Hours later in the Monza camp, a project engineer, attempting to cloak his enthusiasm in nonchalance, asks, "How'd the V-8 Mustang perform?"
The truth is that while Detroit automakers today are busy projecting an image of adult practicality and building fleets of "small family cars," an engineer still lusts for the rapidly disappearing challenge of performance, sportiness and flair. In those pursuits, the engineer works in a constant state of excitement and competition. That's the way they like it.
So, disregard their exterior nonchallance. At Ford and Chevy, they're excited. What's at stake - and they know it - is the title to the most exciting sporty car of 1975. Certainly, a Pontiac Trans-Am or the Z-28 Camaro could flatten either of these new entries in a run for the money, but the Z-28 and the husky Pontiac are not representative of the sporty wave of the future, and it wouldn't surprise many to see them deemphasized very soon. In 1975, in this new Age of Reason, they are specialty warhorses, a last of breed.
Before our two-man team arrived in Detroit late last August to put these two V-8s to the test, pre-fight odds favored the Monza by a good margin. The reason was simple: The Monza, while based purely on the Vega, had a brand new body, totally different than the "economy car" look it has lived with since its introduction. In the past year, enthusiasts have been bombarded with drawings, leaked photos and near hysteria over this new sporty performance car. Initially, it was to have a rotary engine - and it may yet - and later we learned that this little car would be powered by a small-block V-8. It was also sleek, clean, sportcar-sized and the farthest thing imaginable from the new-breed, Calvinist-sort of automobile.
If the Mustang was the car of 1974, the Chevrolet Monza clearly had all the star qualities for 1975.
Ford and Chevrolet are very real competitors in the world automotive scene and they're very aware of that challenge. More than in sales is at stake - image is at stake.
Whether it was planned or not, Ford doused some of the Monza fire by announcing that the Mustang would come equipped with a 302-cubic-inch V-8 engine. The general enthusiast, while impressed with Ford's new-look, new-sized Mustang in '74, was not bowled over by its performance. With the addition of the V-8, Mustang was now a contender for the sporty-car title of 1975.
So it was, with some anticipation, that Motor Trend set out in late August to measure these two contenders, and perhaps shed some light on which of these two cars will emerge the ultimate winner with the American car buyer.
Our first stop was Ford's proving grounds outside Detroit. The familiar Mustang II - our Car of the Year for 1974 was waiting. Visually, the '75 is the twin of the '74, and there's reason to believe that Mr. Iacocca and Company will keep it that way for some time to come. Remember, we're in the Age of Reason.
The only difference with our Mach 1 was larger tires - 195/70R-13 steel-belted radials - to meet Department of Transportation load-requirement rules, and the 302 engine. The V-8 has obviously made the car heavier - this one was about 3250 pounds, we were told. But it is, as we've said so many times in the past year, a pretty stunning car for the times in terms of style and flair. The interiors remain the same as '74, so we won't repeat our earlier styling critique.
This V-8 Mach 1 was equipped with a three-speed automatic transmission linked to a 3.0:1 rear axle. Oddly enough, we learned, a stick shift would not be available during initial production, but the Ford people indicated it will come later. (The reason, they said, centered mainly on the fact that Ford would have had to repeat all the time-consuming certification tests - and a stick for the Mustang V-8 does not qualify as one of the firm's immediate "priorities.")
We had driven the four and six-cylinder Mustang IIs numerous times and our response has always been the same: Very nice, very nice, but where's the old Mustang horsepower? With that in mind, there's a considerable sense of excitement as you buckle up, slip in the key and turn over the V-8 engine for the first time. It fires immediately, and there it is: the husky gurgle of a V-8. You slip into gear and guide it out onto the winding Ford proving-grounds road, nursing it into sweeping curves, feeling it out, sensing its strengths, searching for its flaws. The second time through you push it through the turns, shifting down, hearing the radial tires go to work. Finally, you see what it can do.
Putting into words the sensation of driving an automobile is a difficult job. If you think not, try describing a roller coaster ride to a friend sometime. Generally, here is the impression we came away with: The V-8 Mustang II is a compromise essentially of three things - the performance limitations created by what it takes to meet emission laws for hydrocarbons, carbon monoxide and NOx, Ford's desire to maintain both the luxury image and basic ride theme of the Ghia, and the application that those two considerations have to do with building a "modern" performance car. In short, you shouldn't fall off your chair when I tell you that the original 1964 V-8 Mustang had a lot more hair. Much more.
But power in this new Mustang is a vast improvement over the '74 Mustang; enough to generate a lot of excitement into a ride around the course that was painfully absent a year ago. Now you even have to back off the accelerator. From a standstill, response is good, but not immediate or thunderous the way it was in the original Mustang. Much of that may have to do with the unsportsmanlike automatic transmission. You keep asking yourself, "What would it be like with a four-speed stick?" Hopefully, Ford will answer that at a later date.
The Mustang ride remains one of the smoothest and surest for an American car of this size. A "sporty" car is indeed a compromise - unlike a sportscar, it does not communicate every jut in the road to the driver's fingertips via the seat of his pants. Ford could not, in reality, build this car on the notion that every potential buyer would, like us, wish to whip it around the proving grounds at breakneck speeds. They've attempted to put together a small car that reacts with the smooth manners of a large luxury-optioned car. They've done that with the '75 V-8 Mustang - it reacts with the grace of a competent boxer rather than a bullish streetfighter.
The 302 V-8 recored what we anticipated in terms of acceleration times: respectable, sufficient.
At the expense of jeopardizing the retirement benefits of a few Ford people, the Ford engineers assigned to the V-8 Mustang were less than delirious about the limitations they now have agreed to live with, and the compromise that this and other sport cars have become in the Age of Reason. Given a free hand, they no doubt could create another whole generation of boulevard chargers and drive-in draggers. That, of course, is no longer the American lifestyle. But, the Ford engineers are equal to, if not ahead of, the current "sporty" competition.
After three hours of tests, we departed Ford and drove through the summer greenery of Michigan to a homey restaurant near General Motor's proving ground. At the table this day were four Monza project engineers, spreading butter on homemade rolls. While that's hardly worth mentioning, their demeanor, in this year of the sales slump, is worth a note. These guys had the smell of utter confidence about them. To mix metaphors, they looked like a group of guys who had just shown up at the Podunk State Fair racetrack with Secretariat in the trailer. Who's going to beat their horse? This confidence is not reckless - what these guys have in their stable is the V-8 Monza 2+2, the heavy favorite. Two cinnamon rolls and a blue plate later, we had the Monza.
We have been heralding this car as the "V-8 Vega" in past issues, primarily because the new name was not known. It was a mistake. Any resemblance that the Monza bears to the Vega can only be discerned by turing it upside down and poking your nose into the floor pan and front suspension. This is anew car; in fact, the "newest" car of its type since, perhaps, the original Mustang.
Its styling is comparable only in length and interior trim to the Mustang II. The word "European" is tossed around lightly but this car gives that description some teeth. The best description in a word I've heard came extemporaneously from one of the engineers: "silky." Its whole character shouts aerodynamic - there's not a right-angle edge anywhere. The photos tell the story: it is a remarkably clean, flowing design, with a long-hoped-for absence of stick-on chrome doo-dads. The word is tasteful.
The Monza also provides evidence that stylists need not feel defeated by government demands, particularly in the case of the 5-mph bumper. This is the first small car that has overcome the sore-thumb look. The gap between sheetmetal and the bumper's edge is continued with soft, squeezable plastic. Ah, and chromeless grilles: the Monza has two simple flow-through openings nicely accentuated by the stylish rectangular headlamps (which don't, happily, blink open and shut). The simplicity and size of the taillight assembly proves that Mercedes is having more and more impact with Detroit stylists. Again, the rear bumper is not a visual schnozz, and fits nicely into the svelte theme of the entire body.
The interior is almost as Europen as the exterior. The front buckets damn near look like fancy aftermarket add-ons, and have hit that mark between comfortable-yet-firm. Particularly tasteful is the unmarked padded dash, as it extends from the instrument console to the far side of the passenger seat. A simple stitched line runs through the dash, and there are no stamped titles, or description or corporate tags to clutter the simplicity.
The tall driveline hump (tall because rotary engines have high drivelines - remember that point) that seperates the front buckets rises gradually to the forward point where the T-handle of the three-speed automatic rise to meet the right hand. (A stick shift will be available.) It is so comfortable and natural sitting in the driver's seat with your hand on the "T" that your left leg almost reflexively stabs for the clutch that is not there. The instrument panel is easily readable, with the exception of the clock to the right that is blocked by the wheel. Small matter. Forward vision is excellent, aided by the sloping hood. The great seating position and solidness of feel is akin to the Camaro, but closer, more defined.
Most of all, it reeks of luxury. There is no thin interior. The upholstery and door trim is that of a luxury car, and it's as solid as a full-sized Pontiac. It's hard to believe that this is a "Vega." Even the configuration of the arm rest, coupled with the European-like doodr handles and lock button in the armreast, are indeed very Mercedes-like and will be appreciated by Monza owners. What won't be appreciated is the apparently unshakeable need by the boys in the design studio to tack on that paper-thin screw-down junk that ad copywriters describe as "simulated wood grain" paneling. This practice has reached the depths in 1975; the console is cheapened by two notebook-sized pieces of this wallpaper, as is the dash. Our suggestion is to remove the stuff, paint it flat black, and screw it back down - but not before dropping Chevrolet a nasty note. And as far as that goes, what ever happened to real wood?
Inside and to the rear, it gets interesting. The driveline hump up front extends stright back, and the back-seat passengers in effect are in a front seat attitude. The back seats look like buckets, although they're a single unit, and fold down in hatchback fashion. Two-plus-two, of course, is translated form the European, meaning, "Yeah, we can take two more passengers if we really need to." However, they're ideal for a pair of children.
Chevrolet - indeed all of General Motors - is going to produce the Monza in significant numbers. During the '75 model year, Chevy alone may build as many as 200,000 - equipped with either the four cylinder or V-8> (The V-8 equipped ratio may be as high as 60 percent!) Betcha they sell every one. The Monza is the epitome of the new goal in Detroit: small luxury cars that can be optioned to the limit.
The performance of our test car - equipped with the 262-cubic-inch V-8 and a 2.93:1 rear axle - was comparable to the Mustang, although it placed second to the V-8 Mustang in every time/speed test. The Mustang gets from 0 to 30 a full second ahead of the Monza, and to 60 miles an hour four seconds faster than the Monza. Remember, the Monza gives up 40 cubic inches to the Mustang II. For number counters, remember that you can buy the Monza with a stick, and that might have some bearing on the outcome for those of you wishing to challenge our statistical findings.
The truth is that the Monza V-8 and the Mustang V-8 are very similar in the handling and performance categories. Either car entering a sweeping curve at 60 miles an hour will respond in a similar fashion. I found the difference in times startling, because there didn't appear to be any sensory difference. A good example of this similarity can be found in the three-speed transmissions: if you didn't know the difference, you would swear they were the same. Again, both transmissions were not installed for drag-racing purposes; they're supposed to be smooth, jerkless transmissions.
Adding up the scores, as usual, becomes sticky. The V-8 Mustang is quicker than the V-8 Monza, but neither is in the same league with the Trans-Am or Z-28, or, for that matter, half the screamers of the Sixties. So you must ask yourself, "How important is one second, or four seconds, in 1975?" The answer in this case is: not much.
The Big Four, of course, like to settle these differences of opinion at the end of the year when the sales are counted. Lee Iacocca knocked out all the competition in '64, and was well on the way to a repeat victory 10 years later when an energy crisis and massive inflation afforded him a split decision. For our money - if someone demanded that we pick betwee comparably equipped, comparably-priced versions of these cars - we'd have to go with the new kid on the block, the V-8 Monza 2-Plus-2. The winner, we'd say, a split decision.
|
|
