Think of It as the $76,000 Ace Up Britain’s Sleeve
There has been a sly, wry Monty Python merriment to British automobiles since the first revolutions of serious motoring.
From this sceptered isle have come such chummy gems as the Berkeley Foursome, Skootamota, the very English-sounding Beverley Barnes (designed by two Dutchmen), the tres French-sounding Bleriot-Whippet (built by two Englishmen), the Ascot Gold Cup Six with less horsepower than the third race at Epsom, and an Airedale with the eponymous canine as a hood ornament. And, the Austin Chummy.
Roads here are infested with Morris Minors and Austin Sevens in use as daily drivers when they would be in storage as five-figure collectibles in the United States.
And historically, whenever car builders wanted steroid power for their typically British Sunbeam Tigers, Allard Ks, Daimlers, Triumphs, Range Rovers and Morgans, they stuffed them with quintessentially American V-8s.
All of which segues neatly to Britain’s latest purveyor of hybrid, custom-built motoring: AC Cars Ltd., which has mated its handsome AC Ace sports car to a Ford Mustang GT transmission and iron-block, 5.0-liter V-8.
The first of the few Aces--only 100 cars will be built this year, ascending to 450 by 1997 with 40% aimed at North America--are in production. The car was launched at the recent North American International Motor Show in Detroit, aroused much lust and stirred a dozen orders.
Federal safety and smog certification currently is in the hands of a California company. Pricing remains a juggle thanks to the unsettled dollar and fluctuating freight rates. But the Ace is expected to cost about $76,000, with initial U.S. deliveries by midsummer.
AC Cars, of course, is a genuine antique. It has been around since the turn of the century when AC meant Autocars & Accessories, builder of three-wheeled delivery carts for Selfridges department store.
AC Aces powered by Ford have been part of the two-seater scene for more than four decades. Its piping times, of course, were the ‘60s, when Carroll Shelby came to London and exported this aluminum and steel roadster to California to be implanted with Ford’s 330-horsepower V-8.
By 1965, the brutal AC Cobra had thundered past Ferrari to win the World Sports Car Championship. Shelby became a legend, and his car a lodestone for world collectors.
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Now comes Brian Angliss, latest purchaser of AC Cars, a helicopter pilot, hoarder of antique motorcycles, restorer of World War II fighters, builder of updated AC Cobras--and a man who believes the world is again ready for an Anglo-American two-seater combining British aplomb with Yankee mechanicals that suggest tattoos and arm-wrestling for Pauli Girls.
“The Ace is sportier than the Mercedes SL500, but not so sophisticated as to be boring,” Angliss explains. “It’s not a TVR (a limited-production British sports car) that’s rough and ready and goes like hell.
“I like to think we’re in the middle, offering the best of both worlds . . . the heritage of a British sports car that’s lovely looking, and a Ford V-8 that can be tuned by any speed shop in North America.”
The 1995 AC Ace is born to be a convertible, but with a detachable, optional hardtop. There’s a five-speed manual for those who believe happiness is stirring a gearshift and a four-speed automatic for lesser enthusiasts.
It is equipped with everything expected of a performance car priced above a Porsche 911 and Dodge Viper, but below an Acura NSX and Mercedes SL320--air conditioning, anti-lock brakes, power top, 16-inch alloy wheels, dual air bags, power windows and central locking.
Included in its price are little comforts that are norms on hand-crafted British cars--Connolly hides on heated Recaro seats, deep-pile wool carpets and elm veneers.
The Ace, as the British describe any great beauty, is a smasher. And that’s with top down or top up.
Hooded headlights frown from a front end with a grating for a grille that’s a glimpse of history. Yet there are wraparound fog lights and a deep air dam saying this is very much a performance car of the ‘90s.
The back end is another racing look formed by four large, round taillights, Le Mans style, and exhaust pipes yawning wider than the Chunnel.
The Ace is low, its sides forming surging curves, almost a Raymond Loewy-Coke bottle shape, with a suggestion of running boards beneath the doors. If it adds to anyone’s perception of seriousness and road stability, the Ace is shorter yet wider and with the same road clearance as Ferrari’s new F355.
There’s not an awkward angle to the whole and ne’er a line lifted from somebody else’s product. This is an exclusive car, a distinctive vehicle--certainly a heady advantage in these days when too many cars are birthed by one Xerox machine.
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Now remove the sheep’s clothing.
Key the engine, light up that 225-horsepower V-8, and Lady Chatterley becomes Billy Bob. Why not? Clothes don’t maketh the car. This is the same grumbling, rumbling, unmistakable chatter of a hamburger-fed Mustang GT flexing its reputation as big dog of American interstates.
It growls like one. It bites like one. It clunks a little through the gears; the shifter’s set is too high, so the throw seems long. But hooked to this friendly old engine, the car shows off hairy legs that stretch from here to Brighton.
Zero to 60 m.p.h. whistles up at about six seconds. At 100 m.p.h., the Ace is suggesting fifth gear for a final run to somewhere north of 140 m.p.h.
Yet this is not a Mustang, nor a Cobra.
This is a car of massive construction: a stainless-steel alloy monocoque chassis rivaling the Blackpool Tower for strength and lack of flex.
Ergo , the super-starched Ace is reluctant to lean, doesn’t buck at bumps in quick corners, and changes directions nimbly with no huge suggestion of lightness on the top side.
Of course it oversteers. That comes with any 3,175-pound lightweight delivering 300 pound-feet of torque to the rear wheels.
But when ends start switching, the departure is far from wicked (unlike Cobras, which regularly bite the foot that feeds too much oomph), and the car’s exquisite balance and reduced profile (almost three inches lower than the Mustang) allow for quick, precise recovery.
It is an easy car to drive. The clutch has been given oodles of travel so the Ace doesn’t lurch and shriek from rest. Steering is speed sensitive, but biased toward the manual requirements for sportier paces on twistier roads.
Incredibly, at speed, with the top down and windows up, the slipstream wouldn’t flutter Kato’s kurls. Of all the convertibles we have driven, only the Mercedes SL series offers this level of cockpit calm.
Our test car was right-hand-drive prototype No. 2, rattle- and clatter-free despite several thousand test miles, but needing refinements.
There is no dead pedal on which to rest the clutch foot when cruising. The transmission tunnel denies it. But, Angliss says, left-hand-drive models headed for the United States have the gas pedal against the tunnel so there’s room aplenty on the left side for a dead pedal.
Angliss recognizes the high set of the gearshift. Others have complained. It will be lowered.
Although the steering wheel adjusts for rake, it doesn’t advance beyond the awkward setting of dead vertical. Angliss thinks that can be changed.
He’s also very aware that in the highly competitive U.S. market, no matter the exclusivity and hand-formed quality of his car, $76,000 is a lot of beans. But by turning to emerging nations for parts, by reducing in-house labor costs, Angliss believes he can push the price down.
Some may be concerned by an interior that has all the luxurious ingredients but not that overall elegance of a suite at the Dorchester. It even seems to expose that fine distinction between homemade and handcrafted.
Angliss denies the point. He says this is a front-engine, rear-drive British sports car for enthusiasts. And these are purists who want simplicity of line and function.
But can this be a typical British sports car?
We think not.
After four days at the wheel, the heater hadn’t melted our Reeboks. When the weather was grim outside, it didn’t rain inside the car.
The King is dead, long live the King.
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1995 AC Ace
Cost
* As tested, estimated, $76,000. (Will include two air bags, anti-lock brakes, leather Recaro seats, power top with automatic hardcover, alloy wheels, air conditioning, power windows and locks, elm wood trim.)
Engine
* Ford 5.0-liter V-8 developing 225 horsepower.
Type
* Front-engine, rear-drive, two-seater sports car.
Performance
* 0-60 m.p.h., as tested, with five-speed manual, 6.6 seconds.
* Top speed in excess of 140 m.p.h.
* Fuel consumption, estimated city and highway, 17 and 20 m.p.g.
Curb Weight
* 3,175 pounds.
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1995 AC Ace
The Good: Smooth redux of Anglo American motoring passions of the ‘60s. Goes like a British bat out of Detroit. Buffet-free driving at high speed with top down. Looks sculpted by Henry Moore.
The Bad: Could be priced beyond its customers. Oversimplified interior. Deep thrist for premium unleaded.
The Ugly: Ever seen a vertical steering wheel?
