By '51, the Ardent 400 Series was in its sophomore campaign. With a wide variety of bodies and trims available, but only one engine, Ardent had a difficult choice to make when providing Motor Review World with a test vehicle.
Which one would they pony up?
A 410 Custom sedan, in Lemon Creme.
I found this thread now but I am not interested in joining the 1952 round, I can join a round set in 1954 or later, and I want to do this if possible. Does that mean that I can (and have to) register my company now for future competitions or is it too late now?
Extra! Extra! Read All About It! Sinistra Motors Built a Luxury Car! (Lore Link)
“Well, that’s just great.” Luke Sinistra said, throwing the newspaper in the bin.
“What’s wrong, Boss?” A man stepped into the room, Luke’s test driver, Mark Jasper.
“Got this place up and running, and another bloody war starts. They’re talkin’ about commandeering the rail-lines. Guess how we get all the steel we need out here, Mark. The damn railways. They take the rails from us, we sink.” Luke said.
Mark gave Luke a wicked grin, then said, “I’ll go convert some Swift Trucks. You’ll get your steel by road, not rail.”
“Not a bad idea. Gets us some more truck drivers, employs new people who might be coming back from this conflict. Gives me time to finish this project.” Luke said.
“The hell is that, Luke?” Mark asked, seeing Luke had recovered the old crashed Swift sedan from the storage room. “Looks like the one you crashed, but that one, you shifted the rear axle about two feet to the left and busted the driveshaft.”
“Same car. Just testing some things.” Luke said.
“Well, it ain’t gonna go anywhere with this mess under the back. No axle, no differential, no driveshaft.”
“Bet you $25 it’ll go around the factory twice, just as it is.” Luke replied back. Mark rolled his eyes, then said, “Never seen a car go around without the back end. Fine, I’ll take your bet.”
Luke got in the car, started the small inline 6, and sped around the parking lot in a cloud of tire smoke, the cross-ply tires screaming as Luke hustled the battered old Swift around the factory once. Mark was standing in the parking lot, his jaw dropped as he watched this battered old car racing around the factory, spinning a front tire and dragging the back end on a sled. The second lap was done, and Luke hustled the monsterous machine back over toward Mark.
“What witchcraft is this!?” he asked.
“None. This is a car of the Future. Take a look under the hood, you’ll see…”
“That’s a funny lookin’ oil pan.”
“That’s because it’s a transmission. And a differential.”
“So that’s your plan? Drive the front wheels?” Mark asked.
“It’s a good plan. Easy to recover from a slide or skid. Easy to drive in winter snow or while it’s chucking down rain. Trust me when I say, give it 30 years, this will be as common as rear wheel drives, and give it 50, you won’t find much other than these.” Luke said. “And I’ll take that $25.”
Down by the station, early in the morning, Sam Worthington stood out in the cold drizzle, waiting. Many people thought it was strange, him not having a driver’s licence, and doubly so when they found out that he worked for a car company. It wasn’t that he didn’t want one, lord knows he tried, but after that time over in Belgium… Sam shivered, stamping his feat to get warm.
In the distance there was the sound of a car approaching rapidly. Sam strained his ears, recognising the growl belonging to a tweaked v8, but couldn’t pick the model. As the sound became louder, Sam got more curious. He knew Dave was going to pick him up in “something special” that he had just bought, but had left the details very sparse.
Tyres squeeling, a large dark blue sedan roared around the corner and then came to a halt in front of him, raindrops glistening off the hood and faint whips of steam from the exhaust. Sam really was surprised, he honestly had no idea what this car was, and it was his job to keep track of these things. Sam jumped in the passenger seat, and looked across to Dave who was wearing a massive grin.
“Now I know you ain’t seen one of these before have you Sam?”
Sam shook his head, “Not that I recall, no. What is it? It’s seriously nice!”
Dave laughed, “Just a little toy that I’ve been searching for a while. It’s a JFM 2800, about 170cui six good for 90 horsepower, and the Dames love it!”
“Dave, this isn’t a six…”
Dave’s grin got even bigger, before stepping on the gas and rocketing off, “Yeah, that’s why this is my unicorn… Some guy somewhere converted a small handful. Dropped the larger 280cui from another model into it and tweaked it a bit… Probably around 160 horses by now.”
Sam couldn’t help but flinch as the car took off, “I… couldn’t… tell…”
Dave’s grin was now threatening to split his head in two as he laughed, "well Sam, this is why I got you to come out and meet me. THIS is the sort of car that every red-blooded American wants! This is what you folks should be aiming for, not some little tin-can child’s toy like the Model 10. Something with real power and real presence, something with style and pazzazz, something that people will fall in love with and aspire to own… Make them feel good about the future… "
“Dave, we’ve been through this…”
"I know, I know, your cars are for the eveyman and you are helping pull people out of their misery blah blah blah. Seriously Sam, I understand that, hell I respect that, but even the poor sods that can only afford a Model 10 deserve to dream don’t they? You cant build your following without things to aspire to… Without things to make people want to better their situation for… "
Sam sat quietly for a while, listening to the rumble of the v8 and enjoying the comfortable ride, contemplating…
"You could be right Dave… We didn’t do too well with our Model 10, and the competition obviously has a better idea of this country than us… But we’re not going to go exclusive any more you know? If we do something, it has to be affordable for everyone eventually… "
If the 5000 wasnt luxury enough, try this. All new and all exclusive without any of the drawbacks. 4speed manual or 2 speed auto available. Sarthe trim with 5500cc V8 shown
You can register any time from now up until the submission date for the first round you’d like to participate in. The sooner the better.
Click on the image to link to the main ACA thread
Also ignore the fact it says 1956, I honestly don’t have enough time to change it
At this time I have received 8 of 14 eligible entries for this round. A little more than 2 days left in this round, guys!
That said…
Jack stood in front of the yellow-white sedan, arms folded. Its chrome glittered in the sunlight as a high cloud passed on by.
“Tell me what’s wrong with this picture, gentlemen,” Jack growled.
The designers gathered around him exchanged nervous glances, but none spoke up. John Case gazed solemnly at his creation, his lips pursed.
“Come on,” Jack taunted. “No one’s got the balls to tell me what’s gone wrong here?”
“Wrong engine,” Stanton Glass muttered from his position in the middle of the throng.
“What was that, Stanton?”
“Wrong engine,” he reiterated, this time loud enough for all to hear.
Jack nodded emphatically. “It’s bad enough that we couldn’t get the V8 ready by launch. It’s flat out embarrassing that it’s still not ready a year later, and we’re stuck with just a six cylinder. So many of our competitors have eights. ACA. PMI. Olympus. Even those kit car guys have one. And the best we can do is a hundred-ish horses? Out of a 173 six?”
Desmond Wainwright gritted his teeth, but said nothing.
Jack turned around and shot a dirty look at the gathered crowd. “We have to do better. You’re all dismissed.” As they started to turn away, he added, “Except for you, John and Desmond.”
The remaining engineers shuffled away, whispering among themselves. Desmond sheepishly made his way to Case’s side.
“You know,” Jack snarled. “At the rate you two are going, these damn Bogliq upstarts are going to run circles around us.”
“Sir,” John protested. “We did what we could…”
“No excuses, John.”
Desmond’s irritation finally reached the boiling point. “So that’s it? Ask us the impossible, tear us to shreds, and then move on? Is that your plan, Mr. Chancellor?”
Jack blinked in disbelief, taken aback by the outburst. He then narrowed his eyes. “Don’t give me any…”
“Why shouldn’t I give you shit?” Desmond continued. “It’s all you give me. You throw three projects on me at once, but only give me enough staff for one and a half. And then you have the audacity to blame us? What about no excuses, huh, Mr. Chancellor? What’s your excuse for this?”
John put his hand on his friend’s shoulder and turned away from their boss. “Come on, Desmond. Calm down, let’s take a walk.”
Desmond tore the hand from his person and took an aggressive step toward Jack. “Why don’t you take responsibility for YOUR shortcomings, huh? Why does everyone else have to fall on the sword for YOU?”
“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” Jack sneered.
John urged Desmond again to walk away, but was ignored.
“You really want to know? A madman. Someone completely out of touch with reality, and angry because he can’t get his way.”
“I’ll remind you that we have sharehold…”
“Oh, don’t give me that line of shit, SIR. You can get rid of me if you want, hell, you can get rid of Stanton or John or Eugene too. Eventually the shareholders will figure out that you’re the problem, not us. Then where are you going to be, huh?”
“Get the hell out of here,” Jack growled hoarsely. “I’ll have your shit in a box for you.”
Desmond’s face twisted into an eerie smile, and he began to laugh as he walked away. “Thank you, Jack. Prove me right. Again.”
John glanced back and forth between Desmond and Jack, before hurrying to catch up with his friend.
Jack took a deep breath before reaching for his phone’s handset. He plucked it from the receiver and deftly spun 7 digits into the rotary dialer, each pulse click in his ear almost a taunt to his senses.
God Damnit, he thought
The line rang once. Twice.
Dammit.
Thrice. There was a click, and a familiar man’s voice came through the other end.
“Wainwrights.”
“Desmond,” Jack sighed. The line was silent. “Desmond?”
“Yes, Mr. Chancellor?” he replied coldly.
“I… I’m sorry. You were right.” Silence again filled the line. “I thought you were just shitting with me that you’ve been understaffed. Like Stanton does. But no, you’re right.”
“Staffing is your problem, Mr. Chancellor,” the engineer replied, no warmer than before.
“Indeed it is. I seem to have made a mistake in that aspect.”
“And how is that?”
Jack took a drag from his cigarette, then cleared his throat. “I… I seem to have mis-filed some personnel paperwork. It appears that I somehow fired you last Wednesday. I can’t imagine the kind of numbskullery it would take to make THAT big of a mistake, right?”
“I can,” Desmond shot back.
God dammit, Jack thought, his anxiety level increasing.
“OK, you’re right again. I should never have fired you, Desmond. I need you back.”
“Twenty percent raise,” the reply was immediate, and sure. “Immediate doubling of my staff, and another 20 percent increase over the next two years.”
Jack sighed in relief. “Of course.”
“Oh, and a five percent across the board pay raise for my entire staff, in addition to regular annual raises,” Desmond added.
“Hey now, that’s not…”
“This isn’t a negotiation, Jack. My way, or you find someone else to run Powertrain. I guarantee your Golden Boy can’t do it all himself.”
“Fine, you win.”
Jack could almost hear Desmond smiling through the phone. “See you Monday, sir.”
Jack grumbled and hung up.
Birmingham CEO Roland Fenster analyses the other cars set to release this year.
Sinistra: “looks like strong competition, but what is front wheel drive?”
Bogliq: “looks a bit too downmarket for us”
ACA: “we had better be careful with this one, looks like something that could steal our sales unless it is slightly lower end”
Ardent: “not bad looking, but looks more family oriented”
Caliban: “this is for a different kind of person than the 7000”
Jason sits at his desk, crunching numbers like he always does. Since they started selling cars they the numbers got bigger and they were much more. On one side he loved it. All the data he was getting. Everything what was happening was written in here. Each time the sales went up he got euphoric! Each das the number got bigger and bigger. But on the other hand the more numbers he had the longer it took him to look at them. Maybe it was time to…
“You are already working on the book ?” William was standing next to him, looking over Jasons shoulder.
Jason jumped in his new chair
“JESUS GOD WHAT THE HELL!”
“Oh God. Did i scare you ?”
“OF COURSE YOU DID”
William laughed out loud
“Hahaha. Sorry i didn’t mean to”
Jason straightens his shirt and gets seated correctly again
“So what you want you evil man?”
“Ah right”
William throws a newspaper infront of Jason
“Mhh ?”
Jason takes the newspaper and reads the highlighted text
““…a very good selection for rural owners and farm work, we still hoped that the Fallow would be a bit more rounded of a truck. We felt its motor was just too small to do an adequate job for large loads or for heavy towing work. On the other hand, it looks to be an inexpensive, reliable option.””
“Sooo what do you say ?”, William broke the silence
“Well i say, that we will give him what they want. I have an idea…”
This was a remake of the very first car I submitted. The original version was built in one of the Fall 2017 UE4 builds and has long since been lost to the sands of time. Furthermore, its styling was not up to snuff with what I am capable of now. I tried to maintain the original’s look as much as possible and merely embellish it. Also this is a 1951 model, not a 1949, so there would be some styling updates regardless.
The 1951 Fenton Grand Touring
C Fenton Trunt Company (later Fenton Holdings Ltd. due to corporate reorganization in the late 1960s) caught the established Detroit automakers by surprise in 1949 when the Grand Touring rolled out. New car brands simply didn’t happen; if anything they went away. So when Fenton couldn’t keep up with demand, everyone was – needless to say – flabbergasted.
The man himself Charles Fenton Trunt, could barely believe the success. His car brand was a gamble to save the company from either massive downsizing or outright bankruptcy after it lost its government contracts at the conclusion of the Second World War. But without missing a beat, he jumped on the Grand Touring’s instant success.
“I want this car everywhere in America. I want people to see this car and think, ‘Wow! That’s the car I want to be driving someday’,” he ordered.
Engineering was concerned by his instructions though. The Grand Touring was a low volume car, built with a welded box-steel chassis and complicated race-inspired 4-wheel independent suspension. They were already seeing orders for the car start to back up past available stock.
“Sir, how are we to get this car to everywhere in America? There are orders backed up as it is,” one of the lead engineers protested.
Fenton Trunt did not like this protest one bit. “Do I have to do your job for you!?” he retorted. “You either figure out how to build more of this car or figure out how to build each one faster! As for the orders, let marketing take care of that.”
Marketing did take care of that. Ads went up everywhere like this one for the 1951 models:
They made sure to backlog orders, provide discounts while spinning the pricing to come out even, and went so far as to send personalized letters to people on the waiting list. Meanwhile C Fenton Trunt Company’s engineering department worked tirelessly to expand production. In addition to more shifts and plans for another factory, the chassis was changed from welded to riveted and from box-steel to C-channel which made it quicker to produce and also saved weight. They also changed the window framing to avoid expensive and hard-to-manufacture wrap-around windshields. The original wire wheels were changed stamped steel with a decorative hub-cap. And probably most significantly, they changed away from fully hand-made interiors on the base V8 model.
By mid 1952, Fenton Trunt was getting his wish as surplus stock was finally able to be accrued, though it never lasted long. The success only continued, so much so that the other automakers had started to take serious notice.
On 3 April 1952, Fenton’s right-hand man and also the president of C Fenton Trunt Company – Everette James Haverford – came into his CEO’s office carrying a memo. He placed on the desk and made one simple remark “Well?”
Fenton looked it over. “A buyout offer…?”
“A big one,” nodded Everette. “From the biggest.”
Fenton gave a quick scoff and then grinned ear to ear at his partner. Everette got the message.
“That’s what I thought.” he smirked back. “My gut says they’re up to something. Aaaaand they don’t want… our competition,” he slowly stated back while glossing over the memo one more time.
“Well then, lets give it to them then.” Fenton replied.
“Yes, sir!” Everette said and then turned to leave. Before he exited the office however, Everette relayed one parting query. “Just a thought. This isn’t going to last forever. What do you propose as our next step?”
Fenton, who had already resumed his activities, looked up, pen still glued to the documents on his desk. “Tell you what. Lets get dinner tonight and we’ll talk about that.”
And that fortuitous day was the day when a buyout request sealed FHL’s fate as one of the greats. Because little did their competitor know, they had no intention to sell out and the request triggered the founding of the now ubiquitous Everette brand.
ACA HQ: Lansing, Michigan. | October 31st 1946
Almosrt one year has passed and the ACA factory is back up and running, producing new cars throughout the day. While not the best car on the market, the Model 38 was received well and managed to keep selling…
Conway steps into his office with Louise waiting for him there.
Louise: Ah sir, are you all ready for your flight this afternoon?
Conway: Yep, got everything packed. Have you sent that letter the design team yet? I need them to hurry up with the design of the new Model 48. I want that done ASAP.
Louise: Yes sir, they’ve called back saying that it’ll be done by next month and that retooling the factory can start before the year is done.
Conway: Good, that’s the kind of news I want to hear. I don’t want to appear as if our company is behind to Lord Mach of course.
Louise: Well, hopefully the negotiations go well sir.
4 years later…
ACA HQ: Lansing, Michigan. | December 29th 1950
4 years have passed since the ACA factories reopened. The Model 48 was released to a decent success and after two years of negotiation, the ACA, Caliban partnership went through, with ACA providing support to Caliban US…
Conway steps into his office with Louise waiting for him there.
Louise: Good morning sir, how was the meeting in Detroit?
Conway: About as well as you can imagine, everyone complaining at each other, shareholders bitching about how they want to see more profit. Any new mail for me?
Louise hands Conway a fat stack of letters
Conway: Perfect, lemme flick through all these then…hm…Maine Motors…right…hahahahahaha. These guys wanna sell cars in Maine. Good luck there, I’m pretty sure Ardent’s pretty much king there. Oh, another new Bog…Bogliq. Right, why the hell did they choose such a hard name for a company. No wonder why hippies buy that crap. Huh? Louise? Who the hell are Sinistra?
Louise: Not sure, I heard about them a month ago from Susan. She says its one of the most comfortable car’s she’s been in.
Conway: Damn. I wasn’t expecting that from a start up… Louise, send a letter to the design team. I want them to try and get them to make next year’s car to be more comfortable. Well anyways, looks like Lord Mach’s making a new sports car. Can’t wait to get those Whittingmore brothers to shove our latest 300 CI plant in that, I’m pretty sure that Mach’s gonna be happy about that. Anyway’s that all?
Louise: Yes sir. Ah, you’ve got a visitor downstairs.
Conway: Ah, yes that’ll be our new lead designer, Ross Becker…
Cardiff, 1st January 1951. Lord Mach I’s residence.
Lord Mach sat in a luxuriously ornamented table. As usual, Mach had gathered his colleagues and advisors for, a New Year’s lunch, but this time two new people were present there. Lady Nell was present, as well as a young toddler; Mach couldn’t help but glance at both Nell and the child, knowing that child’s existance was his mistake, although partially relieved by the fact that he would be the next Lord Mach.
On the opposite end, Zacharias, his economic advisor, and Brown, lead designer of his cars sat looking at Mach. Mach raised his cup of wine.
Mach: “I want to thank all of you for sharing this meal with me one more year. This is going to be an important year for us, starting what I expect to be a fruitful era for the company now that we are backed by the Auto Corporation of America to operate in the United States. I want to thank Lady Nell, my beautiful wife, and my child for being the reasons I keep doing what I do each day. Here’s hope for this company to go on for decades to come.”
After a short applause and a meal full of expensive, exotic dishes, Zacharias excused himself out of the event. Walking into his office and locking the door, he opened one of his drawers, taking a syringe and a small flask labeled ‘morphine’. He loaded the syringe, making sure he had not left any bubbles in it, and started pushing it into his skin.
Two months later.
Mach and Brown had met at the workshop, with Brown writing a letter.
Brown: “That’s the plan Sir. We’ll be sending the engineers at ACA the blueprints for the Type SC for them to rebadge it.”
Mach: “Good. The more support we get from ACA, the better. By the way, get working on a replacement for the Thunder as well. We shouldn’t forget about our domestic market either.”
Brown: “Yes Sir.”
