A forgotten ghost of GT40-inspired greatness
Try to suspend your disbelief for a moment and understand this: you’re looking at a Ford GT40. Not the four-times-Le-Mans-winning original, admittedly, but one man’s vision of a GT40 for the ’90s.
That man is Ray Christopher: co-founder of GT Developments and creator of some 300 recreations of the iconic GT40, who in 1991 decided to design a supercar of his own.
Powered by a mid-mounted Ford V8 motor and built around a GT40-style monocoque chassis, it eventually went to market as a very capable 175mph British supercar.
And, while it never fulfilled Christopher’s dream of racing at Le Mans, it definitely deserves respect today. Here’s its story.
Nom d’homage
Ray Christopher began sketching out the R42 (R referring to Ray, 42 the height in inches from ground to roof of the original GT40) in 1991.
Having created a scale model and prototype chassis by the end of 1992, work began on the first running car, due to be unveiled at the London Motor Show in October 1993.
Sold and saved
That goal was met, but development costs and a worldwide recession forced GTD into receivership late the following year.
The firm was revived, but only after the rights to the R42 were sold in 1995 for a reputed $2.5m to US-registered Spectre Motors Inc, led by 34-year-old former GTD sales agent Anders Hildebrand.
Straight to market
Hildebrand got the R42 into production just four months later and engineered various high-profile stunts to get Spectre into the public eye.
In 1996, for example, he persuaded racing legend Derek Bell to come aboard as chairman and development consultant, and announced the ALCO-Spectre racing programme with the R42 GTR.
Movie star car
Hildebrand’s greatest coup came the following year, as two powersliding R42s featured prominently in heist flick RPM – except the movie proved to be a stinker, going straight to video and being panned by critics, costing Hildebrand the exposure he’d craved for the car.
Unsteady introduction
On first impressions, the R42 might well have been due a similar reception: the use of glassfibre for the shell resulted in a slightly wobbly finish – perhaps because boatbuilders laid the panelwork, or simply because the template was created from scaled-up scans of the 1:4 model.
Sum of its parts
While many criticised the design outright, it’s mainly let down in the detailing: adding some sculpture to the air intakes and swapping the parts-bin door handles for bespoke items would help no end.
At the nose, MR2 indicators and pop-up headlights blend fairly neatly, but to the rear it’s a jumbled concoction of vents, seams and ill-fitting Honda Legend lamps.
Shapely inspiration
The shape itself, though, is pretty accomplished: compact and well-proportioned, it takes cues from a varied catalogue that includes the Jaguar XJR-15, Ferrari 288 Evoluzione and Lamborghini Countach.
It’s efficient, too, with a low drag coefficient of 0.28 achieved with the help of aerodynamics students at Stockholm University, who did the sums taken with the scale wind-tunnel model as an interesting practical project.
Blue Oval appreciation
Any doubts about the R42’s supercar credentials evaporate when you lift the engine cover: like a GT40 for the new millennium, Ford’s all-aluminium 4.6-litre Mustang Cobra unit drives the vast rear wheels.
That theme continues inside. Slide into an R42 and it’s clear that several cows, a couple of Walnut trees and a circa-1994 Ford Fiesta gave up their lives to furnish what Spectre called its ‘Racing car in a dinner jacket’.
Compact cabin
The flashes of cheap plastic that pervade the cabin contrast with Wilton carpets, anti-glare Alcantara, bespoke white dials and the blue leather of the slightly-too-reclined sports seats.
In fact, the seats have to be at that angle to afford the driver sufficient headroom – although it’s the lack of legroom that’s more likely to cause complaint, together with the lack of space between the gear lever and the air vents (likely to give knuckles a battering).
Surprise performer
But it’s best not to dwell on such things, because – in one of the biggest motoring surprises of the past two decades – some 80% of the Spectre experience proves to be genuinely very good.
The R42 is unusual in that it doesn’t intimidate: the clutch is a bit heavy, but the gears are amazingly light considering the torque going through them and the gate – borrowed from a Lotus Esprit – is well defined.
Background block
Then there’s the ride, which, despite the low-profile rubber, never crashes and gets more compliant as speed builds, without sacrificing body control.
In fact, apart from the tyre roar, the R42 is a relaxing cruiser: the 350bhp V8 is refined unless you’re really pushing and 80mph registers just 2500rpm, with the 4.6-litre lump offering little more than a distant grumble.
Quick on the move
That’s not to say it’s slow, mind – even if the maker’s 0-60mph claims (ranging from a ludicrous, F40-beating 3.7 seconds to a still-unlikely 4.2 seconds) seem beyond the R42’s standing-start capabilities.
It’s heavy (the prototype’s 1090kg kerbweight ballooned to 1550kg for the production car), but once it’s on the move the Spectre feels mighty rapid and that claimed top speed of 175mph doesn’t seem impossible.
Plenty of power
Plant the throttle in second, third or fourth gear and the surge is immediate and relentless.
Mercifully, the huge disc brakes and AP Racing calipers are similarly breathtaking, while the steering possesses a rare fluency: light enough to make the car feel agile, weighty enough to give confidence.
Traction for days
Grip is of the oh-my-god variety: the R42’s massive rubber footprint never shows any sign of relinquishing its hold on the asphalt, delivering monstrous traction out of corners – so there’s nothing to fear from unleashing all 335lb ft of torque as soon as you can see through the apex.
Excellent pedigree
As for the chassis, it was always going to be good. Not only is it innovative – a Group C-style monocoque with composite honeycomb bonded to an aluminium frame – but it was also inspired by a car that won Le Mans four times.
Oh, and Derek Bell – the bloke brought in to ensure it went round corners properly – was a five-time winner at the same event.
Fantastic all-rounder
A very decent junior supercar, then? Indeed – and one that’s easy for a novice to drive, docile around town and, as Spectre’s brochures suggested, ‘a super sportscar that is no more expensive to maintain than a family saloon’: the R42 required oil and filter changes every 12,000 miles, rather than monthly ministrations by an overpriced exotics expert.
Big money gamble
When it launched, however, there was rather a large elephant in the room: the price. It arrived in 1995 with a sticker price of £69,950 (£128,000 in today’s money). That was £18k more than an Esprit S4S, £1705 more than a Honda NSX and £1500 costlier than a Porsche 964 RS.
And with the R42 taking more than 2000 man-hours to build, even £70k a pop wasn’t enough to stop Spectre losing money.
Not good enough
At that price, even Lotus knew that well-heeled buyers didn’t want to see comedy glassfibre matting in the fuel-filler flap, ripples in the roof, nor Fiesta keys – still labelled with Ford badges – and wipers that lifted off the windscreen at 95mph.
The result? Spectre managed to shift a mere 23 R42s.
One last shot
Spectre Supersports tried again in 1997 with the R45 – a higher-tech, easier to assemble and better-quality product that, crucially, could be sold at a higher but more justified price of £90,000.
Alas, it was simply too late: the coffers were empty and, with just two R45 prototypes completed, the firm went bankrupt before the year was out.
Plenty to be proud of
There’s no question you’d need to have really fallen for the Spectre to buy into it the late ’90s – and clearly not enough people did. Absent of badges, even the R42 itself seems ashamed of its origins.
Yet there’s no shame in coming so close to greatness – not least given that, today, the R42’s rarity, ability and accessibility make it a far more intriguing prospect than the cars it struggled to match when new.
Best of all, that price tag has now plummeted: one sold with H&H Classics in 2016 for £26,320. The only challenge now is finding one.