Well-known machines that were tweaked at the 11th hour
We’re all susceptible to a last-minute change of heart – be it which shoes to wear to dinner or, indeed, where to go for dinner. Or, in fact, how to get to dinner.
Car manufacturers are much the same. Just when you think they’ve decided on a design – panic! It’s all-change at the factory.
And we’re not just talking about a tweak to the upholstery colors, oh no. We’re talking major body overhauls, mechanical changes and marketing back-tracks.
Not that it’s always a bad thing. In fact in almost all of the 10 examples we’ve shortlisted here, the result has been a better car. In most cases, indeed, the company concerned has pulled itself back from the brink of likely disaster. First thoughts aren’t always best.
Renault 8
When the production-ready R8 was shown to the Renault sales department in September 1960, the gawky prototype received a unanimous thumbs-down.
With the rival Simca 1000 on the horizon and a mid-’62 start-up planned, a panic-stricken Renault called in independent designer Philippe Charbonneaux to do a drastic restyle – albeit retaining all of the existing hard points.
Renault 8 (cont.)
In just three weeks, Charbonneaux reworked what he described as “a complete hash-up”, toiling day and night with a team of fabricators to fix the French marque's snafu.
“Not a single measurement was made,” he recalled in a 1996 interview. “I had a big blackboard and explained with chalk lines how to change things, and all the new panels were formed by hand. When it was finished, the sales department accepted it unanimously.”
Morris Six
After its first attempt at a six-cylinder version of the Bullnose proved a catastrophe, British marque Morris made a second attempt in 1927 with the Light Six.
The engine was new, but the rest was cobbled together from existing components: the chassis was the basic Oxford ladder frame, its wheelbase stretched but with the track unchanged – and it soon became clear the set-up was much too narrow.
Morris Six (cont.)
Soon after its unveiling at the 1927 Motor Show, the Light Six was rapidly tweaked, receiving a new lower-slung chassis with tracks a full 8in wider.
Relaunched in March 1928 as the Morris Six, the car received a mixed reception from the press – the brakes and steering in particular being subjected to criticism. Just 3470 were made before the Six gave way to the Isis in mid 1929.
Citroën Traction Avant
André Citroën knew he had to launch the Traction Avant before his money ran out. He also knew that, being cash-strapped, he needed the new car to be so technically advanced that it wouldn't need replacing for many years.
As such, the car was to be fitted with a fully automatic single-speed transmission – a plan which Citroën sprung on his engineers in autumn 1933. Except the transmission didn’t work: when the prototype machines tried to climb hills, there was substantial performance loss and massive overheating.
Citroën Traction Avant (cont.)
The result? In March 1934, just one month ahead of the Traction’s announcement, the idea was abandoned in favor of an orthodox three-speed set-up.
Hurriedly designed using parts from rear-drive Citroëns and crammed into the housing intended for the automatic gearbox, it was to become one of the car’s enduring weaknesses.
Ford Cortina Mk1
Much of the Cortina’s widespread success was down to strong styling – a key component of which was the round tail-lights, with their three-part design echoing the emblem of the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament.
However, the car nearly went into production with a much plainer rear end: when the Cortina was initially signed off in November 1960, it instead featured slanting lines at the back.
Ford Cortina Mk1 (cont.)
Only in January 1961 did a high-up at Ford decree that the lights of the approved design be replaced by the round units we know today, to match those on US Ford machines at the time.
Tooling for the rear panel was already under way, so the shape of the rear fender and trunk lid wasn't changed – yet, somehow, Charles Thompson’s new round lamps looked as if they had been there from the start.
Goggomobil T600/700
Re-engineering a car from front-wheel drive to rear-wheel drive at the last minute of the clock is pretty radical, but that’s exactly what Goggomobil maker Glas did.
Shown in Frankfurt in 1957 as a front-wheel drive prototype with independent rear suspension, the T600 launched nine months later with rear-wheel drive and leaf-sprung suspension.
Goggomobil T600/700 (cont.)
Why? Supposedly because of nose-heavy handling – though rear-wheel drive would also have lowered production costs.
It made the Goggomobil T600 and T700 (rebranded in 1959 as the Glas Isar) the only German small car with this set-up – which the company thought would align the model with bigger and more prestigious cars.
Kaiser-Frazer Saloons
When construction and ship-building magnate Henry Kaiser went into business with motor-industry dynamo Joe Frazer, their big idea was to have two contrasting cars that used the same body.
Where the monocoque Kaiser would use front-wheel drive and torsion-bar suspension, the Frazer would be rear-wheel drive and sit on a separate chassis with coil-sprung and leaf suspension.
Kaiser-Frazer Saloons (cont.)
Prototypes were shown in January 1946, but the Kaiser suffered from transmission problems and dramatically heavy steering and it soon proved pointless to offer two models with totally different engineering.
Even though some 250,000 orders for Kaisers had been received, the front-wheel drive set-up was abandoned and the Kaiser simply made into a lower-cost Frazer.
Austin Mini Metro
By summer 1977, the long-awaited replacement for the Mini was pretty much signed-off. Fully engineered prototypes were being built when three European styling clinics saw the design bomb.
With a planned autumn ’79 launch, key tooling had already been commissioned for the disastrous design – but British Leyland couldn't afford to have its life-saving new model become another failure.
Austin Mini Metro (cont.)
A crash redesign took place over three months, led by ex-Rover man David Bache. The car was made more stylish and upmarket by modifying every skin panel, while keeping as much as possible unchanged underneath.
As a consequence, the launch of what was by then coded LC8 was delayed by a year – but more than two million Metros of all types would eventually be built.
Citroën DS
With tooling already in the works, in the summer of ’54 Citroën got cold feet about the styling of the new DS.
At that stage, it had a six-light fastback configuration with a beetle-back rear – but the company’s executives were concerned that softer shapes were on the way out.
Citroën DS (cont.)
A last-minute revamp by famed stylist Flaminio Bertoni – begun in late 1954 – accordingly transformed the DS from a slightly bulky coupe into a rather more elegant machine.
While the raised rear roofline sat ill with the shallow rear-window, the genius addition of roof-mounted chip-cone indicators drew the eye away and added definition – all without requiring many tooling changes.
Triumph TR2
In early 1952, Standard-Triumph boss Sir John Black ordered his engineers to come up with a sports car in time for that year’s UK motor show – just months away.
The result was an ugly little pug cobbled together in eight weeks from whatever was available: a chassis based on the ’36 Standard Nine, a Vanguard engine and gearbox, with Mayflower front suspension and rear axle.
Triumph TR2 (cont.)
This unholy mish-mash was never going to compete with the Healey 100, and it drove like a pig. Having given his forthright views, former BRM test-driver Ken Richardson was drafted in to supervise an overhaul.
All of the mechanicals were revised, a new chassis was drawn up, and the body was restyled to eliminate the prototype’s stubby tail. Unveiled at Geneva in ’53, this was the definitive TR2 – and the start of a long and successful line.
Jensen Interceptor
Jensen knew that it had to replace its oddball CV-8 coupe with something less aesthetically controversial. The result? A resolutely dated convertible that revived the Interceptor name.
Unveiled at the 1965 Earls Court show, under its aluminum skin was a promising Chrysler V8, but there was little promise in the new effort.
A hardtop version followed, but by the time it was registered in January 1967, the project, coded P-66, was as dead as could be.
Jensen Interceptor (cont.)
Quite simply, the young new guard at Jensen, led by much-respected chief engineer Kevin Beattie, felt that the Jensen brothers and their long-time stylist Eric Neale were too far out of touch with modern trends.
Thankfully, they got their way: design house Touring came up with the delightful glassback Interceptor/FF for the 1966 show, less than a year later.
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