The Muscle-Car Market

A man and a woman, both sleek and young, lean against the low expanse of sassy red car that evokes images of unlimited speed. Beneath them a caption blares: "If you haven't got a past yet . . . get a Mach I. Now."

That cryptic advertising message divides the Now Generation, steeped in arcane automotive lore, from the majority of Americans, who still regard autos as something to trundle them to the supermarket or station and to be used for occasional longer trips. As the initiate knows, the Mach I is neither spaceship nor sound barrier. It is a hyped-up Mustang--one of Ford's fast-moving contenders in what Detroit calls "the muscle-car" market, where the best sales pitch is neck-snapping acceleration. The new Mach I, which can be ordered with an engine of up to 335 h.p., already accounts for 22% of all Mustangs sold. There are many other muscle cars, and they now constitute at least 5% of the entire new-car market.

King Kong. Only a few years ago, when racing was banned and even a hint of extra horsepower was taboo, "performance" was a dirty word in Detroit. But speed sells cars. So the industry has gone back to offering more and more horsepower and speed.

General Motors has brought out its hairy Z/28 Camaro, which is available with front and rear wind "spoilers" that jut from the car body and improve handling at speeds of 100 m.p.h. and up. American Motors executives announced production of 500 tricolor SC/ Ramblers --steamed-up versions of the family economy car--and then watched delightedly as a flood of orders obliged them to triple the total. Sales of Plymouth's 1969 Road Runner--available with the "beep, beep" horn of its cartoon namesake and a 425 h.p. "King Kong" engine--have so far totaled 40,000, up 94% over the equivalent period last year.

Almost every manufacturer offers a super car. Pontiac has "the Judge" in honor of the Rowan and Martin line "Here come de judge." Dodge promotes the Charger R/T, Mercury the "Cyclone Spoiler." Externally, the cars are distinguishable by their fat, pavement-gripping tires and often by air scoops that bulge over the hood or sides. To be truly eligible for the club, a muscle car must be able to race down a quarter-mile strip of pavement from a standing start in under 15 seconds.

Taking the Temperature. It is a popular achievement. The modern counterpart of the pool shark is a kid in a hopped-up car, cruising the hamburger joints along New Jersey's U.S. 1 or the Strip in Beverly Hills, looking for a competitor with whom he can drag race for money. For most buyers, however, the appeal is only psychological: few ever utilize the full potential of their machines. The kick they want is a sense of power and a feeling of youthfulness.

The growing stable of muscle cars has given insurance executives a bad case of nerves. Neal E. Mann, executive secretary of the Independent Automobile Damage Appraisers Association, has proposed that cars be rated according to the six factors that contribute to acceleration--engine size, number of carburetor barrels, compression ratio, weight, pounds per horsepower and axle ratio. One Pennsylvania-based company, the Erie Insurance Exchange, already uses the horsepower-weight ratio to take the temperature of a prospective car and refuses to write new policies on any that register "hot." As Mann told a group of insurers in a speech: "It is obvious that performance cars are involved in a much higher number of accidents than nonperformance cars."

Despite the growing alarm, Detroit continues to promote the speed derby. General Motors has just introduced an all-aluminum 550-h.p. engine for the Corvette Sting Ray; with that power pack, the car costs about $9,000. Ford hopes to lure speedsters with a souped-up Mustang, called the "Boss 302." The auto is built with a wing across the rear deck to provide a downward thrust that adds traction to the wheels; it also has fixed louvres as bizarre sunshades on the rear window. The still more powerful "Boss 429" has a 375-h.p. engine that will whip the car from zero to 60 m.p.h. in less than six seconds. Even the Ford Fairlane, usually a sedate family car, becomes feverish when equipped with a new option: a 335-h.p. engine.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.