A Daydreaming Designer Imagines The Mercury Version Of The Ford GT40 That Never Existed

You would think that the long-dead Mercury nameplate would not deserve a (sort of) weekly deep dive, but we’ve made it our job here at the Autopian to find the most intriguing and strange offerings from what was Ford’s typically superfluous brand. Today, we’re going to explore what was arguably the ultimate Mercury- a high performance luxury touring coupe called the 4900GT. Before the Jaguar XJ220 and Bugatti Veyron, this was pioneer in the world of iron-fist-in-a-velvet-glove sports machines for the street, even if was never given a chance to succeed.

(Word of note: just as there are no Volkswagen Karmann Ghia radiators or gallon containers of blinker fluid, there is no such thing as a Mercury 4900GT. It exists only in my sleep-deprived mind and in the coming paragraphs for you to hopefully enjoy).

Some great things were born of conflict. Whether it be the paintings made by Van Gogh fighting his personal demons or the four albums recorded by The Police while the band members were trying to kill each other, the visual and musical masterpieces that artists can make during troubled times are often outstanding. In the automotive world, it’s the same situation, and strife helped to create arguably the greatest racing car of all time.

source: Wikimedia/edvvc and Ford

You’ve likely all heard the story of how Ford tried to purchase Ferrari in the early 1960s with the intent of gaining victories at races like LeMans. Ultimately, after Ford had spent millions auditing the Italian car maker, Enzo Ferrari refused to give up control of the racing team in a Ford deal, walked away, and used the exercise to leverage a deal with FIAT (who gave him autonomy with his Scuderia Ferrari). Henry Ford II (“The Deuce”) was less than pleased, and he was not one to piss off. There are likely apocryphal but believable stories of a meeting in Ford’s office where he held up a sports page from a newspaper and declared “this will say FORD WINS AT LEMANS.” When asked about budget and company resources, he supposedly stated once again that “this will read FORD WINS AT LEMANS.” You know, when you run the second or third biggest automobile company in the world at the time, and the title of this firm is your last name, you can do this kind of shit and nobody can stop you.  I’m quite glad that nobody did stop Henry II from throwing money down the toilet on a grudge, since the result was the legendary GT40.

credits: wikipedia/Hugo van Gelderen / Anefo  and wikipedia/Rainer W. Schlegelmilch

Of course, the GT40 went on to be victorious and kick Ferrari’s ass, but for such a purpose built racing machine this Ford seemed to have the makings of a fabulous road car as well. Ford engineers created the Mark III version of the GT40 to a street-legal and more user-friendly animal to hit Enzo’s consumer car business as well.

source: wikimedia/signac

Unfortunately, the Big Guy was not moved. At one point, Henry II looked at the Mark III and questioned how Ford could ask such I high price for a rather stripped-down car and sell it alongside Falcons and F-150s. The Deuce’s suggestion was to ‘upcontent’ the car and move it to a higher brand, meaning Mercury. The poor GT40 was about to get a makeover that would cause designers and race fans to weep, but what Henry II wanted, Henry II got.

First, the wheelbase received a stretch to move the motor further back and enlarge the interior space; The Deuce demanded that the car be more useable than other exotic GTs even at the expense of, well, everything else.

source: Chrome Cars via Classic Driver (recreation for sale)

‘Bling’ was not a term that existed in 1967 but Ford certainly added it to the austere GT40’s exterior. The race car’s nose gained pop-up lights and an electric-razor looking grille as seen on a Cougar. Chrome accents to the rocker panels and Cougar taillights gilded up the formerly clean shape.

source: Chrome Cars via Classic Driver (recreation for sale)

Like the GT40, the entire rear body section of the car tipped backwards for engine access, but the Mercury added a standard trunk lid to make access to the little cargo box in back easier.

source: Peterson Automotive Museum

Mechanically, the Mercury 4900GT diverged further from the GT40 Mark III with the most controversial changes. Driveability was given precedence over finicky race car traits, but the chosen K-Code ‘Hi-Po’ 289 V8 still had a respectable 288 horespower with the low restriction exhaust (in a car smaller and lighter than a ‘Stang). The ride was softened up considerably from the street version of the race car, but the crowning glory was that the only transmission available was to be the three speed Cruise-O-Matic. While Henry II could certainly drive stick, he likely didn’t want to, and surmised that much of his target audience probably didn’t either. Sad but true.

Inside, Mr. Ford wanted to take the truly clean and European-looking GT40 interior and add splashes of chrome, fake wood, and toggle switches to make it look like an American’s unrealistic idea of European-looking. Removing vestiges of race car, the once-hollow doors were now upholstered and flaunted power roll down windows and door locks, while dead center on the console was a T-stick automatic transmission selector from a Mustang.

source: Mecum (car for sale)

The back seats for individuals without legs were flanked by big box structures housing enormous air conditioning components and a giant ‘reverb’ speaker (an early attempt at stereo sound) for the 8 track tape player.

As cheesy as the 4900GT seemed, it could have even been worse. Henry II even tried to have the team mock up a Lincoln version of the GT40 as well, complete with squatty chrome grille and tiny spare tire hump in back. Note the mechanically interesting ‘elevator’ headlamps that sit low to the ground but raise up to legal height when they are turned on:

source: Peterson Automotive Museum

Blessedly, the project eventually died, but how? Well, a little thing called reverse psychology. Ford second-in-command Lee Iacocca rightly hated this thing, not to mention that he was planning on importing cars from his friend Alejandro DeTomaso to sell at Lincoln-Mercury stores instead. His ploy was to pretend to champion the Mercury 4900GT project, which he knew would get Henry II’s goat; The Deuce couldn’t possibly agree with Lido and make him happy.

Such was beginnings of the animosity between the two men that ultimately led to the firing of the one who’s last name was NOT on the logo of the company. Ironically enough, Lee went on to make a car nearly as embarrassing with DeTomaso during his time at Chrysler (the Maserati TC).

Only three 4900GTs were actually built. One was reported ‘stolen’ but in reality was wrecked by a Ford employee racing a foreign exotic on Telegraph Road. A second car was semi-converted back to more tasteful GT40 specifications. The third car? To this day, we don’t know if it’s in a landfill or sitting in some Saudi Arabian car collector’s basement. Is an example of the greatest Mercury ever built still out there?

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