In post-war America, people became enamored with the fun sports cars from Europe, but domestic manufacturers only produced vehicles that were neither small nor nimble.
 Chevrolet rushed to make its Corvette show car the first American post-war production sports car in 1953. Ford, on the other hand, took its sweet time to produce its own sports car, taking to heart complaints regarding the Corvette’s flimsy design, poor weather protection, underpowered six-cylinder engine, and overall lack of comfort. The Blue Oval brass concluded Americans wanted more than a rickety road rocket--they wanted a luxurious personal car.
The sleek two-seat 1955 Thunderbird upped the ante with roll-up windows, power features, and a powerful V8 engine. It quickly became the car that tugged at the hearts of American men and women alike. GM even benefited from increased Corvette sales when the sleek T-Bird focused media attention on the new domestic sports car segment.
Continue reading after the jump.
Last week I had the chance to drive one of the most original ‘55-‘57 Thunderbird I’ve seen in many years. This ’56 ‘Bird still proudly wears its factory-applied paint: Peacock Blue body with contrasting Colonial White hardtop. The matching turquoise interior is perfectly aged, and the mechanicals are stock. It has an impossible to duplicate patina, which makes it more valuable to many collectors than an over-restored car.
As with all 1956 models the car has a continental kit, solving the complaints directed at the 1955’s lack of trunk space. Its hardtop correctly does not have opera windows. Those were phased-in later in the year to remedy large blind spots.
One quickly understands why these cars are generally associated with woman drivers such as Suzanne Sommers in “American Graffiti.” The hardtop, small doors and industry-standard large diameter steering wheel require a dainty frame to clear. So break out the shoehorn--6’4” Sam is going in.
The interior is upscale for sports cars, with turned aluminum and liberal use of chrome. Circular tachometer and clock cleverly flank each side of the half-moon speedometer. The AM radio offers both “town” and “country” settings.
When I turned the dash-mounted ignition, the engine turned over and fell immediately into a quiet purr. Grabbing the automatic transmission lever sprouting from the floor, I pulled it into drive. I navigated the steep gravel road down to the street, on which the Thunderbird could spread its wings. The 312-cubic-inch V8 serves just 215 horsepower, but the prodigious torque sling-shots the 3100-pound car on demand. When new, T-birds were feared stoplight bandits, especially 1957 models with the rare 300hp supercharged “F-code” option and manual transmission.
The Thunderbird’s reputation as a boulevard cruiser comes courtesy of its supple ride and relaxed demeanor. Getting into the throttle and attacking the twisties, though, the car responds with surprising handling, even on its 30-year-old bias ply tires. Steering is similar to early Corvettes and modern presidential talking points--somewhat vague. Compared to its contemporaries, though, it’s well weighted and more communicative. Body roll is minimal and brakes bite well, but are notorious for fading as quickly as a California sunset.
As the Beach Boys said, T-birds ensure “fun, fun, fun.” Despite its capabilities and admirable sales of more than 53,000 Birds through ’57 (compared to 4,640 units in Corvette’s first three model years) Ford brass turned the car into four-seat tourer in a successful search of a larger market for 1958.
The two-seater T-Bird came back in the new millennium, but history repeated itself and the car was cancelled after sales came in well under four-seat convertible competitors. Still, the recipe of personal sporty luxury honed by the 1955-1957 Thunderbird changed the way Americans looked at cars back then, and the way manufacturers design cars for today.
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