Andrew Frankel: What worked for Ford’s Mustang Mach-E hasn’t worked for the new Capri

I’m not sure I can remember an important new product from a major car manufacturer receiving a bigger kicking than did the new Ford Capri at its global unveiling at the Goodwood Festival of Speed. And yet what we  were looking at was no more or less than another electrically powered crossover SUV, unremarkable both on paper and in appearance. The problem, of course, lay not with the car, but its name.

Maybe the barrage of negative comments came only from punters old enough to remember the original Capri, and as the last of those was made 38 years ago, that’s not as big a number as some might think. It’s worth pointing out too that the negative reception I saw came in the main in comments sections and social media responses of the specialist motoring press, so not exactly representative of the constituency at which the car is aimed. And perhaps Ford can be forgiven for thinking that what worked for the Mustang when  it launched the electric Mach-E (or at least didn’t blow up in its face) might work again for the Capri.

But there’s a crucial difference. Because for those who think a Mustang will only, can only, be a two-door, rear-drive coupé with  a snorting V8 under the bonnet, that car is still out there and as true to its roots as the  EV Mustang is clearly not. And while the ‘real’ Mustang remains on sale I expect Ford will continue to earn the benefit of the doubt. Such is not the case with the Capri. People have long forgotten that the original Capri was never as good as it looked, lumbered as it  was with a live rear axle, four-speed gearboxes and meat-and-two-veg handling, and only remember Bodie and Doyle handbrake-turning their way through the latter series of The Professionals in their 3.0 Ss with the net headrests. Ford should have realised this and been more careful about how it chose to plunder its heritage.

Over the past month, I’ve spent some time in the new Porsche Taycan Turbo S and as part of the service I provide to you, dear reader,  I felt it incumbent upon me to get up early one morning, seek out a quiet, straight, dry piece of road, put my foot down and let you know what happens next.

When launched in 2019, the original Turbo S had 751bhp, enough to accelerate the car sufficiently fast for the limiting factor in the number of back-to-back full-bore starts it could do being the resilience not of its battery pack, but its driver’s stomach. That is not me exaggerating for effect, but literal truth. So of course this new one has 939bhp.

“It’s enough to propel this mainstream model to 62mph  in 2.4sec”

Porsche says it’s enough to propel this four-door, four-seat entirely mainstream model from rest to 62mph in 2.4sec, which happens to be the same time quoted by Bugatti for its two-door, two-seat and decidedly not mainstream £2m Chiron hypercar. Nobody is saying for sure, but it seems likely that, at least over this measure, a Formula 1 car is very little quicker. And I’d bet plenty that, for at least the first second, the Taycan is actually faster, not just because of the literally instantaneous response of its EV powertrain, but because getting an F1 car off the line has always been an exercise in restraint where only a fraction of the available power is used to stop vaporising the rear tyres.

And I’d love to tell how thrilling it is to go from rest to 62mph in half the time it takes  a conventionally very fast car. But the truth? You’d need to drive through a hedge to have a less-pleasant experience in a car. It’s horrible, not just because it messes with your inner ear which starts sending startled, garbled messages to your brain at significant variance to those relayed by your eyes, but because the noggin itself can’t process the information fast enough either. It’s constantly playing catch-up during those first few fractions of a second, trying to work out what the hell is going on while being bombarded with an onslaught of fresh and still conflicting information from your eyes and ears.

All the brain knows for sure is that being behind the game makes it anxious, it’s not enjoying this experience and would be obliged if you could make it stop. So it makes you feel sufficiently bloody awful to conclude you’ve done due diligence, professional obligations have been met and you’re never going to do anything so damn silly again. Except that  I will. Because this isn’t the flagship. That’s the new Turbo GT, which is 75kg lighter, has super-sticky track-day tyres for maximum traction, 1093bhp and a 0-62mph time of 2.2sec. I can’t wait.

By way of contrast, I’ve also spent a day driving a very early Mark 1 Mazda MX-5. Shockingly it’s 34 years since I wrote a full road test for Autocar and I’ve not been in one for at least 20. But  I have fond memories of them in period, particularly a holiday touring Scotland in one with a mate in 1992, spending each evening drowning our sorrows in the local brews having both just been dumped by our then girlfriends.

The Mazda was the perfect tonic then, and remains so. It’s so simple: light, small, with a fizzy twin-cam engine, brilliant close-ratio, quick-shifting five-speed ’box, rear-wheel drive and proper wishbone suspension. When you’ve got all this, you don’t need to be going fast to have fun. No wonder their prices are finally rising, and really good examples will now set you back a five-figure sum.

A former editor of Motor Sport, Andrew splits his time between testing the latest road cars and racing (mostly) historic machinery
Follow Andrew on Twitter @Andrew_Frankel