The Ford Mustang's Future Starts at Le Mans
The future of the Ford Mustang goes through France. Not just the 24 Hours of Le Mans, but the country. There’s no more American car than Ford’s only remaining car, but America isn’t enough. Ford is sending the Mustang out into the world. Its Mustang GT3 at Le Mans is establishing a beachhead. And France knows beachheads.
Before the start of the 24 Hours of Le Mans, there’s a “grid walk” opportunity. Stroll amongst cars; see the drivers up close; stand on the main straight. There’s a band playing familiar music as the spectators come up to the walk. What is that tune? Is it the Les Marseilles? That’s France’s kick-ass national anthem, but it ain’t what the band is selling. Maybe it’s a riff on some French folk song. Nope.
It's the theme from CHiPs! Yeah, Ponch and Jon on Kawasaki KZ1000Ps prowling SoCal in the 1970s and 1980s. That CHiPs. Junk American TV… in France! In 2024! God bless the USA!
Le Mans is more NHRA than Formula One. It’s built for the masses, not the elites. It’s a party and a mash-up of any culture that bothers to show up. The infield is filled with RVs with the most luxurious of them being American imports. Baguettes and cheese are to the French what burgers and brats are to Americans. And wine is beer. Le Mans, it turns out, is French for Talladega.
“Whoa,” I say to myself spotting a newer Ram 2500 amid the Peugeots and Citroens. “That doesn’t seem right.” I would’ve asked the guy who was parking it about how it got there. But as he slammed its door shut, he looked at me and instantly said “No English.” And I don’t speak a lick of French.
Last year, a Camaro stock car appeared at Le Mans and was instantly beloved. But that was a one-off and, so far, nothing more. This year, Ford’s Mustangs GT3s are racing to win. At Le Mans this first time, that didn’t quite happen.
The Mustang is already Ford’s last car in America and seems destined to become the last car it makes for the rest of the world too. It’s the sole survivor of the muscle wars after the passing of the Challenger and Camaro. “We sell V-8 Mustangs in Europe,” said Jim Baumbick, Ford’s Vice President, Product Development, Operations and Quality. “If you’re going to drive a Mustang in Europe, you want the full experience.”
The Mustang GT3s sounded different from the other cars during the 24 Hours. Its cross-plane crank meant it bellowed like a NASCAR racer instead of the flat-plane crank Corvettes that scream with a contralto fervor. It was a familiar sound; a lot like the Mustang GTs with obnoxious aftermarket exhausts seen leaving car meetups and power sliding into YouTube infamy. Germany’s Proton Competition was behind the three Mustang GT3s, but the cars were so blisteringly American.
As SUVs have come to rule the universe, the automotive market has become less and less nationalistic. What sells in Cleveland also sells well in Paris, Bangkok, and Sydney. An American Ford used to be a very different thing than a European Ford. Now, the products are converging as the market goes transnational and crossover-centric. The Mustang is destined to be the product that defines Ford’s character in every country.
“There were Mustangs that made it to Europe before we started selling them here. Somehow, they made their way over,” Baumbick says with some bravado. “So we knew people loved Mustang in Europe and when we finally arrived, these same fans were saying, ‘What took you so long?’”
Beyond their love of CHiPs, the crowd at Le Mans was sheathed in American brands. Nike shoes, T-shirts from Harvard, Stanford, and Cal Poly San Luis Obispo, Carhartt caps, and jerseys for the Lakers, Kansas City Chiefs, and Edmonton Oilers were all apparent. Sure, there was plenty of gear from European league football clubs, but that’s stuff showing up in the United States too. The world’s culture is flattening and one of the great events that brings it together is the 24 Hours of Le Mans.
But there’s only so much any spectator can take. No one sane sustains a 24-hour fascination with the race. Ford invited (and paid for) a slew of us journalism types to come to Le Mans to follow its campaign in the world’s greatest endurance race and ogle the new Mustang GTD with slobbering passion. But a full day of racing, much of it in the rain? Come on. How much safety car can anyone take?
Except for layovers at the airport, this was my first chance to see France. I've long loved Le Mans, but I wanted to see more.
So, I begged for and borrowed a red, manual transmission Mustang GT coupe from Ford, and at 6:30 on Sunday morning, left Le Mans setting a course west towards the Normandy coast. The goal was to get to the American Cemetery there above Omaha Beach, pay respects to those D-Day soldiers whose lives preserved Western civilization, and be back at the race by two that afternoon to watch the last couple hours.
The GT is the essential Mustang upon which racers like the GT3 and thrillers such as the GTD are built. There’s nothing exotic about it. Some steel stampings spot-welded together, a straightforward (albeit all-independent) suspension, a lot of ordinary other stuff, and an interior with a touch too much 1980s Winnebago Chieftain chintz. Compared to, say, a BMW or Mercedes, it’s kind of raw. And gregarious.
It's also a better car for covering ground than its stablemate, the Dark Horse. The GT has plenty of power, but it’s a bit quieter, rides softer, and doesn’t tram on pavement grooves as assiduously as the DH. The trip to the Normandy coast was almost traffic-free that early in the morning and the GT romped across the A23 with giddiness. I made it to Normandy in about an hour and a half including a stop at a Relay convenience store for a French Snickers bar.
French Snickers are better than American Snickers. There’s more roasted peanut taste.
Only a few weeks from the 80th anniversary of the D-Day landings, there were still banners and flags throughout Normandy’s small towns. A dread that D-Day had been commoditized into a tourist attraction entered my mind. That vanished the moment I got to the American Cemetery.
Besides being a profound and dignified presentation of 9387 graves, the cemetery and Omaha Beach beyond it is one of the most staggeringly beautiful places on Earth. That it was drenched in blood 80 years ago would seem incomprehensible if not for the headstones.
“The Germans should be paying for this,” I overheard a lady with an American accent say near me. “They started it.” I couldn’t disagree more. That my tax dollars help pay for this profound place is their best possible use. These men, taken when young in the cause of defeating fascism, are ours to cherish. It’s an honor to tend to their care.
I would have taken photos of the cemetery. But it would have felt filthy with an iPhone in hand like it was Disneyland or Pebble Beach.
Maybe it’s inevitable that Omaha Beach will become more touristy as the events that happened there in 1944 become more distant. The generations that have come after that one know how World War II turned out and can afford to take it for granted. But back then, the Nazis could have won. And there wouldn’t be anything good to take for granted today.
The Mustang GT was parked next to a series of MB Jeeps and as I started it to leave, that V-8 voice seemed doubly precious. It was hardly the most important thing that the Allied victory in the war achieved, but the Ford Mustang wouldn’t exist except for that win. And the Mustang name wouldn’t have anywhere near the resonance it has if there hadn’t been P-51 Mustang fighters helping get that victory. The Normandy coast is where the world we live in was saved.
Stop at any boulangerie in France and a phenomenal baguette is only a single Euro. That they do Snickers bars better than us too seems almost unfair. We owe the French for Lafayette and supporting our revolution, the Statue of Liberty, Antoine de la Mothe, sieur de Cadillac who founded Detroit, and that whole Louisiana Purchase thing. Western Civilization is a big concept that spans across great nations. The cemeteries for the Canadians and British who died on D-Day are nearby.
Getting back to Le Mans and the transparent spectacle seemed more precious. Sure, it’s crass and commercial. Yeah, it’s loud and hardly an efficient use of resources. But it’s one thing that emerges from the freedom our fathers, grandfathers, and great-grandfathers fought to preserve.
Right now, Paris is hosting the 2024 Summer Olympics. The French know how to party. But every person who gets to the games should head to Normandy, and see the pastures and fields where wars were fought to make our lives so good today. And give a moment of thanks.
Ford promises plenty of variations on the Mustang as it becomes a product of the world. My thought is that a variant like the Lamborghini Huracan Sterrato or Porsche 911 Dakar would be perfect. A Mustang with long travel suspension and BFGoodrich All-Terrain T/A K02s. A pre-runner with style. The Ranger Raptor is already a hit in Europe, Asia, Australia, and all the Americas, so why not? A Mustang Raptor is both wicked insane and a natural follow-up. I couldn’t get anyone at Ford to say that such a machine is on their mind. But I’m sure it is.
Because they have the freedom to think wild thoughts. And so do we all.
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