You’d
think the motor industry, with all its money and experience, would only offer
automobiles that had been thought through from every angle. Turns out… not.
Ford
Pinto (1971–1980)
Lesson:
Don’t design a car that explodes
In
order to cut costs on their new fuel crises-beating cheapie, the lads at Ford
decided to put the fuel tank behind the rear bumper. As a result, even a
low-speed rear impact would cause bolts protruding from both the bumper and
diff to puncture the fuel tank… and whumpff. Oh. And the doors had an annoying
tendency to jam. Cue multi-million dollar payouts. Conservative estimates put
Pinto fireball deaths at 500.
Lesson:
Don’t build cars if you’re Yugoslavian
The
Yanks have a high tolerance for terrible cars. But not even they could put up
with the Yugoslavian-built Yugo. It seemed like a good deal when launched in
the US back in ’84 – low price and a 10 year/250 000km warranty – but it’s
build quality was terminally bad… not that much of a surprise when “carpets”
were listed as a special feature. Interestingly, production ended when the Yugo’s
Zastava factory was bombed by NATO in ’91. America is part of NATO isn’t it?
Just saying.
Chrysler/Desoto Airflow
(1934)
Lesson: “Ahead of its time”
is not a good thing
Make
no mistake, this was a good car. A great one, even. Boasting a light-weight,
steel-spaceframe construction and near 50-50 front-rear weight distribution, it
should’ve been celebrated. But no. Unfortunately its ground-breaking,
streamlined body looked a little too utilitarian for American tastes… “Hell!
*spit* Looks it’s been designed by one of them damn Bolsheviks.” No-one bought
it.
Dodge Custom Royal (1955)
Lesson: Vinyl seats work in
car. Vinyl records don’t.
You
can see what they were thinking. After all, everyone listens to their iPods in
the car these days. Unfortunately playing the musical tech of the time –
records – in an automobile proved a little more problematic. Potholes and
turntable needles do not make for good bedfellows. Chrysler even developed
custom-made LPs that were the size of a 45rpm single, but played at 16 2/3 rpm.
It was an expensive flop.
Crosley Hotshot (1949)
Lesson: Don’t call your car
a “Hotshot” unless it actually is.
It
might work these days with a sophisticated motorbike engine, but no post-war
car weighing 500kg and boasting a 750cc engine was going to produce anything
resembling “hot” in the performance stakes. What was hot however, was its
dual-overhead cam engine brazed together by pieces of, not iron, but tin. When
the welds let go – which they frequently did – things did indeed quickly get
very “hot”.
As appeared in the Oct 2012 issue of the Kulula in-flight magazine
