# data.attributes.title
"Modest power, exhilarating effect": why the Ford Racing Puma is a proper hero car

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
"Modest power, exhilarating effect": why the Ford Racing Puma is a proper hero car | Top Gear

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Think of it as a hard-top, high-rise Caterham

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
"Modest power, exhilarating effect": why the Ford Racing Puma is a proper hero car

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Think of it as a hard-top, high-rise Caterham

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Think of it as a hard-top, high-rise Caterham

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
"Modest power, exhilarating effect": why the Ford Racing Puma is a proper hero car

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
"Modest power, exhilarating effect": why the Ford Racing Puma is a proper hero car

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
"Modest power, exhilarating effect": why the Ford Racing Puma is a proper hero car

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Think of it as a hard-top, high-rise Caterham

# data.attributes.body.value
Time can treat heroes unkindly. The great grow old, the powerful fade, the mighty fall. Then there’s the Ford Racing Puma. It was a hero to me 25 years ago, and driving it again... well, this is the zingiest thing I’ve driven in years.

That’s the word that defines the FRP. It’s a hard-top, high-rise Caterham. It drives like Mentos in Coke, so full of fizz it can’t contain itself. If it was a dog it would be a Jack Russell.

So of course, it was a borderline failure. The regular Puma (basically a Fiesta coupe with a 1.7-litre engine), on sale since 1997, had been a rip-roaring success. So when Ford showed a Puma ST160 concept at the Geneva Motor Show in 1999, great things were expected. Within a few months it appeared things had been watered down – the Racing Puma that went into production didn’t even have the promised 160bhp of the concept.

Its 153bhp was only 30bhp more than the regular Puma, yet instead of £13,000, this was now a £23,000 car. You could see why, though. So it didn’t trigger homologation rules, it was sold as an aftermarket kit: a regular Puma was built, and then shipped to Tickford in Daventry to have all the mods made. And yes, while the extra 30bhp wasn’t enough when any hot hatch worth its name had 200bhp, the high-lift cams, airbox and exhaust work did fundamentally alter the 1.7’s character.

But that wasn’t the half of it. Seemingly inspired by Ford’s Puma F2 rally car, track widths were up 80mm, with new blistered body panels necessitated. This obviously meant new wishbones, longer and beefier driveshafts, but the rally inspiration went further: stiffer Eibach springs and dampers, shot-peened lower gears, 295mm Alcon four-piston brakes, Sparco seats, Alcantara trim and options that included a limited slip diff.

The plan had been for 1,000 to be built, for sale across the UK and Germany. In fact Germany never got any and by the time production was wound up, UK buyers had purchased less than 490. And this despite really positive media coverage.

Some of which I was responsible for. I didn’t go on the original launch in San Francisco, but once back in the UK I found any excuse to drive one, because it was so exciting. The FRP thought it had 500bhp, the way it went about its business. And that hasn’t changed at all over the years. Throttle response is absolutely electric, you brush the pedal and it’s off, surging, it just wants to go. You let it go and it’s all fizz and eagerness, everything’s at the top end between 5,000 and 7,000rpm, gearshifts zip through. There’s no muscle here, it’s all nerve.

I found any excuse to drive one, because it was so exciting

And in the chassis they’re drawn tighter than a bowstring. And this isn’t even as stiff as the main man behind the project, Ford legend Richard Parry-Jones, wanted to make it. On the options list was a set of RPJ dampers. Apparently only 15 or 20 cars had them fitted, while around 80 had the diff. This one – car 1/500 no less – has neither. It bobbles around Dunsfold, stilted and eager, just desperately wanting to be pointed at a corner.

The steering brims with information, and I can’t ever remember driving a car with more throttle adjustment than this. People go on about original Peugeot 205 GTi’s having lift-off oversteer, but this is in a different league. You tip it in, take up an angle with the steering and then do everything else on the throttle. Roundabouts must be mesmeric in this. Back off the throttle too much and the rear axle goes ‘wahey! Let’s have some fun!’

And you really do. I find two things amazing here. That in recent years Ford has appeared willing to surrender it’s reputation for ride and handling. And that older fast Fords have gone to the moon in value, yet a tidy FRP is still city car money. Values deserve to skyrocket. Because I can’t think of a car that uses modest power to more exhilarating effect.

Photography: Jonny Fleetwood

# data.attributes.body.processed
Time can treat heroes unkindly. The great grow old, the powerful fade, the mighty fall. Then there’s the Ford Racing Puma. It was a hero to me 25 years ago, and driving it again... well, this is the zingiest thing I’ve driven in years.

That’s the word that defines the FRP. It’s a hard-top, high-rise Caterham. It drives like Mentos in Coke, so full of fizz it can’t contain itself. If it was a dog it would be a Jack Russell.

So of course, it was a borderline failure. The regular Puma (basically a Fiesta coupe with a 1.7-litre engine), on sale since 1997, had been a rip-roaring success. So when Ford showed a Puma ST160 concept at the Geneva Motor Show in 1999, great things were expected. Within a few months it appeared things had been watered down – the Racing Puma that went into production didn’t even have the promised 160bhp of the concept.

Its 153bhp was only 30bhp more than the regular Puma, yet instead of £13,000, this was now a £23,000 car. You could see why, though. So it didn’t trigger homologation rules, it was sold as an aftermarket kit: a regular Puma was built, and then shipped to Tickford in Daventry to have all the mods made. And yes, while the extra 30bhp wasn’t enough when any hot hatch worth its name had 200bhp, the high-lift cams, airbox and exhaust work did fundamentally alter the 1.7’s character.

But that wasn’t the half of it. Seemingly inspired by Ford’s Puma F2 rally car, track widths were up 80mm, with new blistered body panels necessitated. This obviously meant new wishbones, longer and beefier driveshafts, but the rally inspiration went further: stiffer Eibach springs and dampers, shot-peened lower gears, 295mm Alcon four-piston brakes, Sparco seats, Alcantara trim and options that included a limited slip diff.

The plan had been for 1,000 to be built, for sale across the UK and Germany. In fact Germany never got any and by the time production was wound up, UK buyers had purchased less than 490. And this despite really positive media coverage.

Some of which I was responsible for. I didn’t go on the original launch in San Francisco, but once back in the UK I found any excuse to drive one, because it was so exciting. The FRP thought it had 500bhp, the way it went about its business. And that hasn’t changed at all over the years. Throttle response is absolutely electric, you brush the pedal and it’s off, surging, it just wants to go. You let it go and it’s all fizz and eagerness, everything’s at the top end between 5,000 and 7,000rpm, gearshifts zip through. There’s no muscle here, it’s all nerve.

I found any excuse to drive one, because it was so exciting

And in the chassis they’re drawn tighter than a bowstring. And this isn’t even as stiff as the main man behind the project, Ford legend Richard Parry-Jones, wanted to make it. On the options list was a set of RPJ dampers. Apparently only 15 or 20 cars had them fitted, while around 80 had the diff. This one – car 1/500 no less – has neither. It bobbles around Dunsfold, stilted and eager, just desperately wanting to be pointed at a corner.

The steering brims with information, and I can’t ever remember driving a car with more throttle adjustment than this. People go on about original Peugeot 205 GTi’s having lift-off oversteer, but this is in a different league. You tip it in, take up an angle with the steering and then do everything else on the throttle. Roundabouts must be mesmeric in this. Back off the throttle too much and the rear axle goes ‘wahey! Let’s have some fun!’

And you really do. I find two things amazing here. That in recent years Ford has appeared willing to surrender it’s reputation for ride and handling. And that older fast Fords have gone to the moon in value, yet a tidy FRP is still city car money. Values deserve to skyrocket. Because I can’t think of a car that uses modest power to more exhilarating effect.

Photography: Jonny Fleetwood

# data.attributes.field_standfirst
Think of it as a hard-top, high-rise Caterham