by
J.J. Gertler by
J.J. Gertler
Quick Look: 1995 Ford Mustang Cobra R
It has 300 horsepower.
It corners like a go-kart.
And you can buy it at your Ford dealer.
I recently spent a day with the Mustang Cobra R. This limited edition is just your ordinary Mustang -- with a Kevlar fuel cell, externally-adjustable Konis, and a Roush 351 with GT-40 heads. Toss in a fiberglass hood and deck, spartan interior, and no available creature comforts, and it becomes a Mustang in looks only.
You won’t see a lot of Cobra Rs at the drive-in, either. Ford's Special Vehicle Team only built 250, to be sold through SVT-authorized dealers only to those able to show membership in a relevant sanctioning body and evidence of a serious intent to race the car. Yes, friends, it’s a factory Q-ship, an IMSA terror with license plates. And with 300 horsepower moving 3300 pounds, as Mr. Elliott would say, the car rips.
When you settle into the Cobra R (white, with saddle interior, is the only color choice) it feels like a stock Mustang. Then you begin to notice what’s missing. A radio, for example. Air conditioning. The back seat. Fire up the 5.8 liter monster and you also notice the absence of sound deadening and heat insulation. But it doesn’t take very long before you just don’t care anymore. This car was not born to be pleasant.
Aside from those missing items, the interior would be familiar to the owner of a current Mustang. It reminds us of the Batmobile (the George Barris original), with separate cockpits for the front passengers. The instrument panel arc is echoed on the passenger side, with an airbag where the gauges would be.
The arc in front of the driver is chock-full of black on white instruments. Gauges indicate speed (to 160 MPH, and no idle threat), RPM, fuel level, water temperature, oil temperature, and battery condition. “What a simple cockpit layout!” exclaimed the Splendid Co-Driver, who particularly liked the arrangement of instruments. Despite the Spartan spirit of the car, the cockpit includes a clock, a cigarette lighter and ashtray, power mirrors, and an auxiliary power socket well-located for use with a radar detector. (Thoughtfully, the Ford folks also included the Club with our test Cobra. As if we’d let it out of our sight.)
The center console doesn’t open. Storage is provided by a small slot in front of the shifter, well-sized to hold your gloves when you’re out kissing Miss Road Atlanta. Oh, and there’s a couple of slots for change, in case Sebring puts in a toll booth. In the reasonably capacious glove compartment we found the title, a regular Mustang owner’s manual, and the adjustment knob for the Konis.
External styling is slightly exaggerated Mustang. Round foglights replace the rectangular units found in lesser ponies. The fiberglass hood includes a power bulge which helps to clear the air cleaner on the 5.8-liter. A rear wing advertises that this car is indeed something special, even if passersby aren’t always sure what. The wing also cuts down visibility a bit, which is a shame, because in the Cobra R, everything’s behind you. If there were truth in advertising, Cobra R’s mirror would say “Objects in mirror are about to be farther away than they appear.”
The clues to the Cobra R’s true nature are subtle, but there for the sharp-eyed to find. A red R on each of the 17" wheels -- and the 45-series Goodrich T/As around them -- provide one hint; the small “SVT” badge on the rear deck another. The guy in the Ernie Irvan shirt at the Falls Church, Virginia Burger King goggled as soon as he saw the fuel cell hanging beneath the rear valance. “You had to call Dearborn between 1 and 1:15 to get one of these!” he said admiringly.
“This is one burly mama,” we said into our tape recorder, somewhat breathlessly. And that was before leaving the parking garage. Briefly put, the Cobra R is a level of automobile beyond any -- including purpose-built race cars -- that we’ve ever driven. All of its responses are sharp and immediate. Squeeze the throttle -- even gently -- and the car jumps. Turn the steering wheel and the fast-ratio steering and Goodriches the width of Iowa translate your input to pure lateral G. Body roll is utterly absent. (All right, there’s the merest hint of body lean when taking on-ramps at triple the posted speed.) The brakes are huge and effective. In short, the Cobra R can press you into any part of the seat -- or into the belts -- with equal force. The rated top speed is 152 MPH (enforced by a fuel shutoff at 6000 RPM), but more impressive is the suddenness with which the Cobra R gets there.
That performance (who cares?) comes at the cost (who cares?) of some refinement (who cares?). The Tremec shifter proved the least thoroughbred part of the car; while obviously stout, its stiffness made fast shifts difficult, especially a 4-5. That stiffness, coupled with a brake pedal much closer to you than the accelerator, made heel-and-toeing quite an adventure. Hard- downshift corners, like the entry to turn 1 at Summit Point, are much better taken in the Jackie Stewart decelerate-before-the-corner manner than the Mark Donohue friction-circle-and-trailbrake school, simply because the shifting takes so much attention that steering simultaneously would be imprudent.
The persistent rattle from the back of our test Cobra R sounded like a loose fuel-cell strap. The 255/45x17 tires yielded a turning circle on par with the Kitty Hawk. And those looking for a boulevard ride would be better off at their local Trabant dealer.
But, again, ride and quiet aren’t what this car is about. It’s about the kind of driving that takes you 250 miles on a 95-degree day with the engine heat streaming all over you just because the car is such a joy. It’s about equal facility with the road course at Summit Point and the 3/8th mile bullring at Old Dominion Speedway, both included in that 250-mile loop. It’s about having a JATO bottle under your right foot and so much grip that you can add power in a tight corner and all you get is point and squirt becomes point and shout becomes point and HANG ON!!!!
The Cobra R makes it hard for a man to stay in touch with his law-abiding side.
That 9-to-1 compression 351 doesn’t sound very unusual until you stand on it, although one fellow pulled alongside in a Beretta blaring rap music. He looked over and turned it down just so he could hear the Cobra’s engine. Notably, it doesn’t have the lumpy idle typical of high-performance V-8s, which leads one to wonder whether an even wilder cam profile could yield bigger performance numbers. But unless you’re running Trans-Am, you’re unlikely to need any more oomph. Torque peaks at 365 lb/ft at 3750 revs, but it builds in a broad band from about 2000 (which is 60 MPH in 5th, more or less, or 5.4 seconds from rest). Drop below 1500 and the engine protests, but what on earth are you doing at 1500 revs anyway?
Indeed, the Cobra R’s sense of reserve capacity is quite reassuring. You may not need to just about triple the double nickel, but it’s very nice to know you could.
The velour seats have some bolstering, and hold you in place during moderate cornering. Somehow, we suspect, the stock seats don’t stay in these cars long.
Fill the 20-gallon cell (good for about 250 miles between pit stops, but again, who cares?) and you’ll notice the change in balance. The Cobra R becomes noticeably more tail-happy, but not beyond the bounds of the big Goodriches to control.
In sum, there are far worse ways to spend $35K or so. The Cobra R steers and handles the way cars should steer and handle. It has more power than you’ll ever need unless your destination is Tranquillity Base. And you’ll never get a complaint from the back seat.
Clyde Tolson was wrong. This is the best getaway car Ford ever built.
© Copyright 1995, Backyard Aerospace
Hard Drive is a trademark of Backyard Aerospace.
