The 2004 Ford Svt Cobra Coupe, a Piece of Hotrod Heaven

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The New York Sun

More Viper than mere pony car, the 2004 SVT Cobra is the most powerful regular-production Mustang Ford ever built. Ignore the two-plus configuration – the SVT Cobra is a sports car in the American fashion, with a supercharged V-8 that starts with a rumble and uncoils out of its basket at the first millimeter of accelerator travel.


This motor, equipped with go-faster elements such as an air-to-water intercooler and aluminum-alloy cylinder heads, can produce 390 horsepower at 6,000 rpm. Working a six-speed manual transmission, it enables the coiled Cobra to strike 60 miles per hour in a five-second leap.


The Cobra’s looks are also striking. The Mustang’s stylists have been, well, mavericks in the way they have resisted altering their car’s sleek lines any time a focus group fell victim to some foreign make’s passing charms. With its more aggressive front fascia, clean rocker panels, horizontally finned side scoops, and integrated rear spoiler, the Cobra builds on this model to stand on the imagination’s sun-drenched mesa as a Ford with classic, as-seen-on-TV beauty.


Not that the Cobra is distinguished among Mustangs by looks alone. In addition to the 4.6-liter V8 and six-speed manual, an independent rear suspension is also a Cobra exclusive. The American-built cars, which come in coupe and convertible body styles, were a key factor in the rear-drive Ford’s triumph over its age-old Chevrolet and Pontiac rivals. And while the more luxurious Chrysler Crossfire is a similarly sporty machine, it can’t quite catch the Cobra for speed.


The $35,000 Cobra’s interior is simple and lacking in such deluxe features as navigation systems and automatic climate controls. Ford has covered the Cobra’s shifter, steering wheel, and firm seats in plush leather, but much of the rest of the cabin’s panels are hard plastic. A twin-cowled dashboard extends before the driver and front passenger, who enjoy the Mustang’s excellent head- and legroom. However, as you might expect in any two-plus, long-term rear seat comfort is unattainable.


Ford had given the test car one of the “Mystichrome” paint jobs that is also an SVT exclusive. This meant that, depending on the angle at which you viewed it, the Cobra’s sparkling clear coat would slither from an indigo blue into an iridescent green in reptilian fashion. This effect, along with a “unique” steering wheel and 17-inch chrome wheels, were included as options and helped bring the Ford’s price up to more than 38 grand. The options came in addition to the gas-pressurized front shock absorbers, all-speed traction control, and stainless-steel exhaust that all Cobras carry as standard equipment.


Getting behind the wheel of the Cobra involves a sense of getting ready to undertake demanding, if rewarding, work. First, the wheel seems too close; then, the shifter’s farther slots too remote. Work the stick and its notchy movement obscures neutral with an initially terrifying effect. Depress the clutch and enter into a contest of foot pounds in which the Cobra gives as good as it gets. All this seems the stuff of action-movie driving – something more suited to, say, retrieving a parcel of plutonium from a collapsing warehouse inferno than antiquing in the country.


Gradually settling into its idiosyncrasies, we headed the Cobra off in the direction of whatever unstable plutonium we could find. With its clear coat strobing teal like an electrocuted gecko, the car accelerated with a subdued roar, as its independent rear suspension supplied composure over rough roads. On smoother surfaces, the Cobra readily rocketed to speed. It was a surprisingly steady highway driver, and on back roads its excellent lateral grip, quick steering response, and extraordinarily powerful antilock brakes kept the Cobra’s belly snaking along with poise.


In all, the Mustang SVT Cobra was no genteel Sunday driver. It’s difficult to maneuver around town, but give it the open road and it’ll give you the kind of performance that has once competing Camaros rending sheet metal and gnashing gear teeth somewhere in hotrod heaven.


The New York Sun

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