Attention German People In 1959: I Have Some Issues With This Ford Taunus Brochure

Are you from Germany? Are you looking for a new car? Is it 1959? If so, then I have some important news for you: I have some issues with this Ford Taunus brochure. Now, none of these are a big deal, really, but I do think that as a potential car buyer from 67 years ago, you really should be made aware of what I, an as-yet-unborn weirdo from across the ocean, have feelings about. So let’s get into it.

First, I don’t have any real problems with the Taunus, though to be fair, this generation of Taunus (known as the Streifentaunus (1959–1962), which means “side-stripe Taunus) was pretty obviously and embarrassingly out of date, mechanically at least, by 1959. The 12M (1200cc) version was still using an inline-four engine with side valves, which were pretty outdated even back then.

The body design was a fairly up-to-date pontoon-fender sort of design, so unless people made you stop and open your hood, you could save yourself some embarrassment. I mean, you still only had around 35 horsepower or so, but that wasn’t that low, back in the day. Anyway, let’s get into some important issues in this brochure, the most important of which has to do with the interior room and seating.

The brochure devotes a lot of time to noting the interior room and that the seats can slide forward and back, which is, of course, great but hardly revolutionary. They really want you to understand this, so you get that striking-looking double exposure of the woman in multiple positions. Well, two, which is the absolute minimum one needs to qualify for “multiple,” but it makes it. And below the double-lady, I just wanted to show that diagram because I really like how those schematic square-jawed men have hats on. Honestly, that head shape is wonderfully minimal and evocative, and were I making an Indiana Jones video game for a system that used vector graphics like a Vectrex, I’d totally steal that.

But my real issue is with this image:

Okay, a cutaway of a car interior is pretty common in these brochures, and I get they want to show how much room is in back, but look how far forward the driver’s seat is! Now, I’m short and tend to push the seat pretty far forward, but this feels like a lot even for me. The steering wheel bottom is about over the halfway point of the seat bottom cushion. Only my 4’9″ mom who drives a Fiat 500 and sits on an extra seat cushion would pull the seat that close. This feels a little deceptive.

Plus, this cutaway – which was physically done to an actual car and isn’t some photographic or illustrative trick – just makes me realize that perhaps the Taunus should have been a four-door. For whatever reason, Germany in this era seemed to prefer two-door cars – Volkswagen, for example, didn’t have a mass-market four door passenger car (not counting the Type 2 bus or wartime Kübelwagen) until the Type 4 in 1968 – but with the Taunus being marketed as a family car, once you get a taste of what direct access to the rear seat could be like as in that cutaway, you’d think it’d be hard to go back to two-door reality.

I’m just including this picture because I like it. That’s a lovely, steep hill there! Go little Taunus! You can do it!

Oh, and this picture I’m including because of how much it looks like Los Angeles, even though I think all these pictures were shot in Germany. Taunuses of this era came to the US in low numbers, but were never really popular. This image, though, really does feel like what a Taunus would be like existing in late-50s Santa Monica or something. The house is even that adobe-style!

It’s also worth showing this illustration that shows just how many colors these cars were available in, which is impressive, and also what I think is a warning illustration about the danger of your car getting re-painted by farbzwerg, or “color gnomes,” a severe problem postwar Germany was dealing with, where large populations of tiny gnome-like creatures who manufactured their own crude paints would come out at night and sloppily repaint cars, building, streets – anything not covered by a tarp or sprinkled with paprika, which kept them away.

By 1964, a German task force was able to lure most of the color gnome population onto a ship, where they were secretly taken to Antarctica and released. They appear to have integrated themselves and interbred with the local penguin population, which is why so many penguins, when given access to paint, will create large-scale Jackson Pollack-like works.

Finally, we have one of my favorite sorts of improbable-parking car brochure scenes. What’s happening here? It kind of looks like they’re on the campus of a university, and just drove onto the quad or a quad and parked wherever. But that umbrella and table suggest a café? But what’s going on with that kid and that dog? The copy says the men are just drinking beer and talking about cars, and the dude in the sunglasses owns the Taunus behind him. Which is fine, but there’s still so much left unexplained.

Anyway, once again: German car buyers of 1959, please consider these issues carefully before you decide to buy a new Taunus 12M!

All images: Taunus