Jeremy Clarkson asks for refund on Ford GT
07-05-2005 | 10:26 PM
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Jeremy Clarkson asks for refund on Ford GT
eremy Clarkson: Sorry, Ford, I have to ask for my money back
Thirty-five years ago I promised myself that one day I’d own a Ford GT40, the blue-collar supercar that took an axle grinder to Ferrari’s aristocratic halo at Le Mans. But 25 years ago my dreams were dashed as I grew too tall to fit inside.
Happily, in 2002 Ford announced that it was to build a modern-day version of the old racer. It would, they said, cost less than £100,000 and do more than 200mph. They also said it would be much bigger than the original so pylon-people like me would be able to drive it.
*
And so, two years ago, having tested a prototype in America, I placed an order for one of the 28 that were coming to Britain.
As the months groaned by there were rumours of big price increases, insatiable thirst and catastrophic suspension failure. But there were also rumours of the supercharged V8 pumping out 550bhp and a mountain of torque so massive it was breaking the testing equipment. So I didn’t mind.
I didn’t even mind when it arrived at my house one month ago inside a truck which had “On Time” written down the side. As we know from America’s arrival into the second world war, their concept of “on time” differs slightly from ours.
And anyway, it looked so gorgeous, a mass of bulging muscle struggling to contain that massive 5.4 litre supercharged heart. It doesn’t look like a GT40 but it looks like a GT40 looks in your head. And it’s huge. Longer than a Volvo XC90 and as wide as a Hummer.
Which is why, on its first run, to London, it was like a blue and white Pied Piper trailing a stream of ratty hatches in its wake. Everyone was taking pictures, waving, giving me the thumb’s up. Never, not once in 15 years of road testing cars, had anything drawn such a massive crowd. And never had the crowd been so overtly supportive.
Of course you can’t run a car like this without a few problems rearing their head from time to time. It’s too wide for the width restrictions on Hammersmith bridge — backing up earned me a slot on the traffic news that morning. The turning circle means every mini roundabout becomes a three-point turn, and at oblique junctions, as is the case in a Ferrari Enzo, you absolutely cannot see if anything’s coming.
But set against this is a surprisingly quiet and civilised ride. It’s like a power station. Silent, as it gets on with the job of brightening up your life.
Mind you, you are constantly aware of the Herculean power that nestles just over your right shoulder. Partly because you can see the supercharger belt whirring away in the rear-view mirror and partly because it makes a deep, dog-baiting rumble when you do put your foot down.
Ford asked that I keep the revs below 4000 for the first thousand miles. But since 100mph equates to 1900rpm it’s not really a hardship. And at this speed you’re doing 15mpg, which isn’t bad at all. But three days later everything started to go very, very wrong.
Leaving the Top Gear studio, the immobiliser refused to un-immobilise itself. So the car was pushed into the hangar and I went home instead in a rented Toyota Corolla.
Ford sent a tow truck, changed the immobiliser and delivered the car to my house the following day. “Is it fixed?” I asked. “Yes,” they said.
It wasn’t. At three in the morning the alarm blew. And then again at four. This meant my wife started to refer to it as “that f****** car”, which took away a bit of the sheen, if I’m honest.
The next day, on the way back to the garage, I received a call on the hands-free phone from the tracker company. “Your car’s been stolen, sir,” said the man. “I’m sure it hasn’t,” I said, “because I’m in it.”
Fearing that I might be the burglar, the man asked if I could give him my password. Tricky one that, since I have a different password for everything on the internet and can never remember any of them. And that’s a big problem, because the man at the end of the phone has the power to remotely shut down the engine.
I threatened him, lightly, with some physical harm, but this didn’t work so I had to guess. “Aardvark,” I ventured. “Abacus, Aesop, additional . . .”
*
Eventually he took pity and I was able to deliver the car back to Ford with some stern warnings about the alarm, the immobiliser and the tracker system, all of which seemed to be malfunctioning. As a courtesy car they gave me a Ford Focus, with a diesel engine. Nice.
Two days later the GT was back. “Is it fixed?” I asked, again. “Yes,” they said
Five minutes out of the Ford garage I received a text to say my car had been stolen. And then, in the next half hour, three more. So, counting the two I’d received before I was even out of bed, that meant my car had been stolen five times before 9am.
This time I rang Ford and explained that I would personally come over there and insert the whole car up the chairman’s backside if it wasn’t fixed. And while I was on the phone a yellow warning light came on the dash.
“There’s a yellow warning light on the dash,” I bellowed, like Michael Winner, only angrier. “Oh, that’ll be something to do with the engine management system,” said the man with the bleeding ears. “You’ll need to get it looked at . . .”
When Ford gave me the car back after its third hospital trip in as many weeks, I didn’t ask if the security system was fixed. Because the notion of it still being broken was simply inconceivable.
So imagine my surprise when, one hour later, while at my daughter’s school play, I heard a familiar siren. I couldn’t believe it. The alarm had gone off again.
In a fury this time, I called Ford and explained, loudly, that Roush, the company charged with servicing and maintaining the 28 GTs in Britain, was plainly incompetent. And that there was simply no point asking it to fix the alarm again because it’d had three goes already.
I then did something the man at Ford wasn’t expecting. I asked for my money back.
And that, the next day, is what happened.
They put £126,000 in my account and sent a man to pick up the car. “Is it the alarm system?” he said. “They all do that.”
So there we are. A 35-year dream. A two-year wait. Ten years of damn hard work. And what do I get? The most miserable month’s motoring it is possible to imagine.
Strangely, however, as the GT rumbled down my drive for the last time, I felt like Julie Walters watching Michael Caine getting on the plane at the end of Educating Rita. I actually cried.
*
There’s a very good reason for this. I genuinely believe that some machines have a soul and I can’t bear to think of my Ford sitting in a warehouse now, unloved and unwanted. It is fine. It is perfect. It knows it’s a great, great car that was ruined by a useless ape who fitted a crummy aftermarket alarm system.
Ford has said I can buy the car back any time. It has even lent me an Aston Martin DB9 while I make up my mind. I don’t know though. I just don’t know.
Normally I finish these columns with an opinion of mine. But this time it’s the other way round. I’d love to hear yours.
One thing: I know I could sell the car privately and make a £50,000 profit. But I have never profited from my position as a motoring journalist. And I never will.
Vital statistics
Model Ford GT
Engine 5409cc V8 supercharged
Power 550bhp @ 6500rpm
Torque 500lb ft @ 3750rpm
Transmission Six-speed manual
Fuel 14.6mpg (combined cycle)
CO2 N/A
Acceleration 0-60mph: 3.8sec
Top speed 212mph
Price £126,000
Verdict So good you can have mine
Rating Five stars
......
way to go ford
Thirty-five years ago I promised myself that one day I’d own a Ford GT40, the blue-collar supercar that took an axle grinder to Ferrari’s aristocratic halo at Le Mans. But 25 years ago my dreams were dashed as I grew too tall to fit inside.
Happily, in 2002 Ford announced that it was to build a modern-day version of the old racer. It would, they said, cost less than £100,000 and do more than 200mph. They also said it would be much bigger than the original so pylon-people like me would be able to drive it.
*
And so, two years ago, having tested a prototype in America, I placed an order for one of the 28 that were coming to Britain.
As the months groaned by there were rumours of big price increases, insatiable thirst and catastrophic suspension failure. But there were also rumours of the supercharged V8 pumping out 550bhp and a mountain of torque so massive it was breaking the testing equipment. So I didn’t mind.
I didn’t even mind when it arrived at my house one month ago inside a truck which had “On Time” written down the side. As we know from America’s arrival into the second world war, their concept of “on time” differs slightly from ours.
And anyway, it looked so gorgeous, a mass of bulging muscle struggling to contain that massive 5.4 litre supercharged heart. It doesn’t look like a GT40 but it looks like a GT40 looks in your head. And it’s huge. Longer than a Volvo XC90 and as wide as a Hummer.
Which is why, on its first run, to London, it was like a blue and white Pied Piper trailing a stream of ratty hatches in its wake. Everyone was taking pictures, waving, giving me the thumb’s up. Never, not once in 15 years of road testing cars, had anything drawn such a massive crowd. And never had the crowd been so overtly supportive.
Of course you can’t run a car like this without a few problems rearing their head from time to time. It’s too wide for the width restrictions on Hammersmith bridge — backing up earned me a slot on the traffic news that morning. The turning circle means every mini roundabout becomes a three-point turn, and at oblique junctions, as is the case in a Ferrari Enzo, you absolutely cannot see if anything’s coming.
But set against this is a surprisingly quiet and civilised ride. It’s like a power station. Silent, as it gets on with the job of brightening up your life.
Mind you, you are constantly aware of the Herculean power that nestles just over your right shoulder. Partly because you can see the supercharger belt whirring away in the rear-view mirror and partly because it makes a deep, dog-baiting rumble when you do put your foot down.
Ford asked that I keep the revs below 4000 for the first thousand miles. But since 100mph equates to 1900rpm it’s not really a hardship. And at this speed you’re doing 15mpg, which isn’t bad at all. But three days later everything started to go very, very wrong.
Leaving the Top Gear studio, the immobiliser refused to un-immobilise itself. So the car was pushed into the hangar and I went home instead in a rented Toyota Corolla.
Ford sent a tow truck, changed the immobiliser and delivered the car to my house the following day. “Is it fixed?” I asked. “Yes,” they said.
It wasn’t. At three in the morning the alarm blew. And then again at four. This meant my wife started to refer to it as “that f****** car”, which took away a bit of the sheen, if I’m honest.
The next day, on the way back to the garage, I received a call on the hands-free phone from the tracker company. “Your car’s been stolen, sir,” said the man. “I’m sure it hasn’t,” I said, “because I’m in it.”
Fearing that I might be the burglar, the man asked if I could give him my password. Tricky one that, since I have a different password for everything on the internet and can never remember any of them. And that’s a big problem, because the man at the end of the phone has the power to remotely shut down the engine.
I threatened him, lightly, with some physical harm, but this didn’t work so I had to guess. “Aardvark,” I ventured. “Abacus, Aesop, additional . . .”
*
Eventually he took pity and I was able to deliver the car back to Ford with some stern warnings about the alarm, the immobiliser and the tracker system, all of which seemed to be malfunctioning. As a courtesy car they gave me a Ford Focus, with a diesel engine. Nice.
Two days later the GT was back. “Is it fixed?” I asked, again. “Yes,” they said
Five minutes out of the Ford garage I received a text to say my car had been stolen. And then, in the next half hour, three more. So, counting the two I’d received before I was even out of bed, that meant my car had been stolen five times before 9am.
This time I rang Ford and explained that I would personally come over there and insert the whole car up the chairman’s backside if it wasn’t fixed. And while I was on the phone a yellow warning light came on the dash.
“There’s a yellow warning light on the dash,” I bellowed, like Michael Winner, only angrier. “Oh, that’ll be something to do with the engine management system,” said the man with the bleeding ears. “You’ll need to get it looked at . . .”
When Ford gave me the car back after its third hospital trip in as many weeks, I didn’t ask if the security system was fixed. Because the notion of it still being broken was simply inconceivable.
So imagine my surprise when, one hour later, while at my daughter’s school play, I heard a familiar siren. I couldn’t believe it. The alarm had gone off again.
In a fury this time, I called Ford and explained, loudly, that Roush, the company charged with servicing and maintaining the 28 GTs in Britain, was plainly incompetent. And that there was simply no point asking it to fix the alarm again because it’d had three goes already.
I then did something the man at Ford wasn’t expecting. I asked for my money back.
And that, the next day, is what happened.
They put £126,000 in my account and sent a man to pick up the car. “Is it the alarm system?” he said. “They all do that.”
So there we are. A 35-year dream. A two-year wait. Ten years of damn hard work. And what do I get? The most miserable month’s motoring it is possible to imagine.
Strangely, however, as the GT rumbled down my drive for the last time, I felt like Julie Walters watching Michael Caine getting on the plane at the end of Educating Rita. I actually cried.
*
There’s a very good reason for this. I genuinely believe that some machines have a soul and I can’t bear to think of my Ford sitting in a warehouse now, unloved and unwanted. It is fine. It is perfect. It knows it’s a great, great car that was ruined by a useless ape who fitted a crummy aftermarket alarm system.
Ford has said I can buy the car back any time. It has even lent me an Aston Martin DB9 while I make up my mind. I don’t know though. I just don’t know.
Normally I finish these columns with an opinion of mine. But this time it’s the other way round. I’d love to hear yours.
One thing: I know I could sell the car privately and make a £50,000 profit. But I have never profited from my position as a motoring journalist. And I never will.
Vital statistics
Model Ford GT
Engine 5409cc V8 supercharged
Power 550bhp @ 6500rpm
Torque 500lb ft @ 3750rpm
Transmission Six-speed manual
Fuel 14.6mpg (combined cycle)
CO2 N/A
Acceleration 0-60mph: 3.8sec
Top speed 212mph
Price £126,000
Verdict So good you can have mine
Rating Five stars
......
way to go ford
07-06-2005 | 12:53 PM
#3
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Joined: Feb 2005
Posts: 1,153
From: T.O.
Rep Power: 744
Originally Posted by midnighter
Or you mean "way to go Roush service department"?
That's ok... at least we know he'll make a better decision next time around and go back to Euro cars :thumbsup
07-06-2005 | 04:40 PM
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Joined: Feb 2005
Posts: 1,518
From: Mississauga
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Good thing I read that... I was going to go put a deposit down on one. Time to step up a bit in the Ford model line-up, the Festiva just isn't cutting it anymore.
Seriously though, that's really disappointing. A good part of Ford's reputation (if there was such a thing) was resting on that car. Anyone hear about the problem with the cracked front control arms? Ford is sending out letters telling owners to not drive their cars. Yeah sure, I just spent $200,000 on a car I'm going to leave in the garage... :supergay:
Seriously though, that's really disappointing. A good part of Ford's reputation (if there was such a thing) was resting on that car. Anyone hear about the problem with the cracked front control arms? Ford is sending out letters telling owners to not drive their cars. Yeah sure, I just spent $200,000 on a car I'm going to leave in the garage... :supergay:
07-07-2005 | 04:09 PM
#6
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Joined: Feb 2005
Posts: 1,153
From: T.O.
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Seems like C&D wrote an article about the GT40 last month:
At Ford, a Supercar Delivers a Super Headache
The trials and tribulations of developing the Ford GT
BY WALLACE A. WYSS
ILLUSTRATION BY STEVE AUSTIN
June 2005
The Ford GT was expected to be the cat's pajamas of American cars, an exotic to rival the Ferrari Modena 360. This sensational project to produce a street version of Ford's most famous race car, the Le Mans-winning GT40 from the '60s, began five years ago with Ford's hailing it as "a technological wonder wrapped in the Ford GT40 concept car." It indeed met all its performance expectations, but it also wound up a $150,000 Ford with egg on its face.
The first running preproduction models were shown at Ford's centennial celebration in Dearborn in 2003. They were touted as '03 models, but that was a fiction created by Ford insiders for the benefit of management and the press. By making the GT the centerpiece of the celebration, these insiders were able to raid funds earmarked for the centennial that would instead go toward developing the exotic car.
The real production models are '05s, and when the GT officially went on sale in the summer of '04, the collector/investor crowd swarmed. Listed at $143,345, that number swelled to $157,000-plus with all the options. Dealers then marked them up as high as $220,000, some bypassing the showroom and offering them to the world on eBay, where they could pit one potential buyer against another. The feeding frenzy was fueled by the knowledge that Ford could make just nine GTs a day, or 1500 a year, which meant there weren't enough to give even one each to every Ford dealer in the country. This feeding frenzy happened before a little dark cloud on the horizon mushroomed into a thunderstorm.
At issue were flaws. Although 15 crude mules were built and tested on racetracks across America, using a different chassis, different engine, different gearbox, and different body, and further tests were run on preproduction "'03 models," apparently all these tests failed to sniff out problems cropping up on production models. The shocker now being reported is cracks found in a suspension control arm. The warning letters sent out by Ford were chilling, reportedly telling owners not to drive the car under any circumstances. Almost 400 cars were recalled for replacement arms. New arms cut by Roush from billet stock were a quick fix until new forged aluminum ones could be engineered.
There were other problems: a defective electrical component that caused the battery to drain, a climate-control bug, power-steering and engine-coolant leaks, a steering-column rattle.
But the A-arm glitch was humiliating. Supplied by Citation Corporation in Alabama, the originals used a novel Japanese casting method nicknamed "squish casting" to achieve higher density in the aluminum. Although the same material and method of manufacture are already in use on some foreign cars, including Alfas and Porsches, the arms, as supplied, were inadequate on the Ford GT.
At the point the first cracked A-arm was discovered last December, only 448 GTs had been produced, according to Automotive News. Of those, 289 had been shipped to dealers and just 106 had reached owners' hands. Ford had the cars trucked back to the factory for the fixes.
So Ford had taken a chance on a new-for-Detroit method of manufacturing the A-arms, and now it is paying the price—$5000 per car for the fix on the recalled ones. GTs built since then have new arms. But what will most likely annoy those first buyers even more is that some GTs have now been discovered to have an oil leak caused by an improper finish on the crankshaft. The leak on recalled cars was fixed with a device called a Speedi-Sleeve, a commonly used device in engine rebuilding that enlarges the diameter of a part of the crank so the engine no longer leaks. Cars made since this discovery will get cranks with the correct surface finish.
On the problem cars, Ford's solution will require the dealer to remove the transaxle and install a new rear main seal, retainer, and Speedi-Sleeve on the crankshaft. Ironically, the Speedi-Sleeve is a low-cost item, but the labor involved to get at the crankshaft is a big-ticket item.
But wait a minute—do buyers of those first cars want their 550-hp engines to be running with Speedi-Sleeves? Not to knock a tried and true product, but it sounds like a fix someone might use on an old pickup truck to squeeze another 100,000 miles out of it rather than just buy a rebuilt engine. So owners of those first cars may feel they're getting damaged goods instead of a perfect new car.
Now comes the blame game.
Ford could pummel John Coletti, the former head of the high-performance SVT group, who bulled the GT through all internal opposition from concept to production, but Coletti, who's only in his mid-50s, decided to retire a few months ago, before the problems surfaced.
Next come the suppliers. Ford was fully aware that it would have to outsource work on a 200-mph supercar, just as Chrysler had needed to go to outside suppliers to produce the Dodge Viper. So Ford lined up a raft of suppliers, all of whom had to relocate staff and/or facilities to within 250 miles of Dearborn.
A key choice of suppliers was Steve Saleen, a well-known builder of specialty Mustangs and his own $375,000 superexotic called the S7. Back in 2000, the technical virtuosity of the 200-plus-mph S7 [C/D, July 2003] impressed Ford executives, who reasoned that if Saleen could develop such a fine $375,000 car, building a $150,000 car ought to be duck soup. (In fact, Saleen bid out the principal work to a British firm, RML, which takes full credit on its Web site for designing and developing the S7.) With a Ford contract in hand, Saleen built a plant near Dearborn to assemble the body panels to the chassis (both come from other subcontractors), paint the cars, and perform much of the final assembly.
To be able to say that it builds the GT—and to keep the unions happy—Ford installs the powertrain and finishes the car's final assembly at its Wixom plant, but that move is said by industry observers to have been superfluous. Saleen has the capability to finish the GT at its plant.
When the problems arose, Saleen's operation went through an upheaval. The boss of the project was fired, as were 10 others, although it is not yet clear exactly why.
Observing all this with no small interest is Jack Roush, the enormously successful racer and Detroit-area shop owner who is also a Ford GT subcontractor (developing and testing the Ford GT's engine package). Roush has a history of coming through for Ford on many performance-car programs, although he also may be taking heat for not having detected the oil-leak problem. As we go to press, Saleen still has the Ford GT contract. Ford had previously mentioned Saleen as one of the subcontractors being considered for the follow-up cars to the GT, which could be the Shelby Cobra roadster or Shelby Cobra GR-1 coupe, or both, programs he has already contributed to. But the writing is clearly on the wall. Ford can't afford the embarrassment of any more ***** being dropped on the GT, or other suppliers will be interviewed for future limited editions, including Saleen's cross-town rival, Jack Roush.
The trials and tribulations of developing the Ford GT
BY WALLACE A. WYSS
ILLUSTRATION BY STEVE AUSTIN
June 2005
The Ford GT was expected to be the cat's pajamas of American cars, an exotic to rival the Ferrari Modena 360. This sensational project to produce a street version of Ford's most famous race car, the Le Mans-winning GT40 from the '60s, began five years ago with Ford's hailing it as "a technological wonder wrapped in the Ford GT40 concept car." It indeed met all its performance expectations, but it also wound up a $150,000 Ford with egg on its face.
The first running preproduction models were shown at Ford's centennial celebration in Dearborn in 2003. They were touted as '03 models, but that was a fiction created by Ford insiders for the benefit of management and the press. By making the GT the centerpiece of the celebration, these insiders were able to raid funds earmarked for the centennial that would instead go toward developing the exotic car.
The real production models are '05s, and when the GT officially went on sale in the summer of '04, the collector/investor crowd swarmed. Listed at $143,345, that number swelled to $157,000-plus with all the options. Dealers then marked them up as high as $220,000, some bypassing the showroom and offering them to the world on eBay, where they could pit one potential buyer against another. The feeding frenzy was fueled by the knowledge that Ford could make just nine GTs a day, or 1500 a year, which meant there weren't enough to give even one each to every Ford dealer in the country. This feeding frenzy happened before a little dark cloud on the horizon mushroomed into a thunderstorm.
At issue were flaws. Although 15 crude mules were built and tested on racetracks across America, using a different chassis, different engine, different gearbox, and different body, and further tests were run on preproduction "'03 models," apparently all these tests failed to sniff out problems cropping up on production models. The shocker now being reported is cracks found in a suspension control arm. The warning letters sent out by Ford were chilling, reportedly telling owners not to drive the car under any circumstances. Almost 400 cars were recalled for replacement arms. New arms cut by Roush from billet stock were a quick fix until new forged aluminum ones could be engineered.
There were other problems: a defective electrical component that caused the battery to drain, a climate-control bug, power-steering and engine-coolant leaks, a steering-column rattle.
But the A-arm glitch was humiliating. Supplied by Citation Corporation in Alabama, the originals used a novel Japanese casting method nicknamed "squish casting" to achieve higher density in the aluminum. Although the same material and method of manufacture are already in use on some foreign cars, including Alfas and Porsches, the arms, as supplied, were inadequate on the Ford GT.
At the point the first cracked A-arm was discovered last December, only 448 GTs had been produced, according to Automotive News. Of those, 289 had been shipped to dealers and just 106 had reached owners' hands. Ford had the cars trucked back to the factory for the fixes.
So Ford had taken a chance on a new-for-Detroit method of manufacturing the A-arms, and now it is paying the price—$5000 per car for the fix on the recalled ones. GTs built since then have new arms. But what will most likely annoy those first buyers even more is that some GTs have now been discovered to have an oil leak caused by an improper finish on the crankshaft. The leak on recalled cars was fixed with a device called a Speedi-Sleeve, a commonly used device in engine rebuilding that enlarges the diameter of a part of the crank so the engine no longer leaks. Cars made since this discovery will get cranks with the correct surface finish.
On the problem cars, Ford's solution will require the dealer to remove the transaxle and install a new rear main seal, retainer, and Speedi-Sleeve on the crankshaft. Ironically, the Speedi-Sleeve is a low-cost item, but the labor involved to get at the crankshaft is a big-ticket item.
But wait a minute—do buyers of those first cars want their 550-hp engines to be running with Speedi-Sleeves? Not to knock a tried and true product, but it sounds like a fix someone might use on an old pickup truck to squeeze another 100,000 miles out of it rather than just buy a rebuilt engine. So owners of those first cars may feel they're getting damaged goods instead of a perfect new car.
Now comes the blame game.
Ford could pummel John Coletti, the former head of the high-performance SVT group, who bulled the GT through all internal opposition from concept to production, but Coletti, who's only in his mid-50s, decided to retire a few months ago, before the problems surfaced.
Next come the suppliers. Ford was fully aware that it would have to outsource work on a 200-mph supercar, just as Chrysler had needed to go to outside suppliers to produce the Dodge Viper. So Ford lined up a raft of suppliers, all of whom had to relocate staff and/or facilities to within 250 miles of Dearborn.
A key choice of suppliers was Steve Saleen, a well-known builder of specialty Mustangs and his own $375,000 superexotic called the S7. Back in 2000, the technical virtuosity of the 200-plus-mph S7 [C/D, July 2003] impressed Ford executives, who reasoned that if Saleen could develop such a fine $375,000 car, building a $150,000 car ought to be duck soup. (In fact, Saleen bid out the principal work to a British firm, RML, which takes full credit on its Web site for designing and developing the S7.) With a Ford contract in hand, Saleen built a plant near Dearborn to assemble the body panels to the chassis (both come from other subcontractors), paint the cars, and perform much of the final assembly.
To be able to say that it builds the GT—and to keep the unions happy—Ford installs the powertrain and finishes the car's final assembly at its Wixom plant, but that move is said by industry observers to have been superfluous. Saleen has the capability to finish the GT at its plant.
When the problems arose, Saleen's operation went through an upheaval. The boss of the project was fired, as were 10 others, although it is not yet clear exactly why.
Observing all this with no small interest is Jack Roush, the enormously successful racer and Detroit-area shop owner who is also a Ford GT subcontractor (developing and testing the Ford GT's engine package). Roush has a history of coming through for Ford on many performance-car programs, although he also may be taking heat for not having detected the oil-leak problem. As we go to press, Saleen still has the Ford GT contract. Ford had previously mentioned Saleen as one of the subcontractors being considered for the follow-up cars to the GT, which could be the Shelby Cobra roadster or Shelby Cobra GR-1 coupe, or both, programs he has already contributed to. But the writing is clearly on the wall. Ford can't afford the embarrassment of any more ***** being dropped on the GT, or other suppliers will be interviewed for future limited editions, including Saleen's cross-town rival, Jack Roush.
07-08-2005 | 11:03 AM
#8
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Joined: Apr 2005
Posts: 2,162
From: Toronto, Ontario
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just goes to show you more of what "american cars/quality" can be 
maybe he just wanted to screw ford over "you know what, im retiring soon, so why not have a good laugh"
Ford could pummel John Coletti, the former head of the high-performance SVT group, who bulled the GT through all internal opposition from concept to production, but Coletti, who's only in his mid-50s, decided to retire a few months ago, before the problems surfaced.
07-10-2005 | 01:06 PM
#10
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Joined: Feb 2005
Posts: 1,153
From: T.O.
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Originally Posted by kaosfire
Its known that only ONE test mule, and only one, had cracked A-arms. Ford responsibly decided to take a preventative measure. There is not one production model that had a cracked A-arm.
