Ford Capri 2.8i Special
Sold/no built 1984-’86/1,886,647 (all Capris) Engine ohv 2792 cc V6; 160bhp @ 5700rpm; 162Ib ft @ 4300rpm Transmission five-speed manual, RWD Suspension Macpherson struts (f), live axle, leaf springs (r); telescopics f/r Steering powered rack and pinion B
Nearly two million of the things having rolled off production lines over a 27-year stretch, there’s no shortage of Capris on the market. But for a child of the ’80s, the one to have is a 2.8i Special. Or rather, the one to have is a 280 Brooklands in fetching metallic green – but fat chance of finding one of those limited-edition beauties for less than £15k. No matter, because the 2.8i Special, which you can find for under the £15,000 mark, is a worthy alternative.
Until the arrival of the Mk3 2.8i in 1981, the Capri flattered to deceive, its ‘UK Mustang’ tag hardly justified by meagre power outputs. Even the range-topping 3-litre Essex V6 put out a weedy 138bhp – don’t even get us started on the 1.3, which made about as much sense as putting Billy Vunipola in a touch-rugby team.
Although not as torquey as the old unit, the new Cologne V6 brought 160bhp and Bosch K-jetronic fuel injection, with a five-speed ’box soon following. The suspension was stiffened and the whole package was jazzed up to give the Capri a new lease of life. Three years later the 2.8i Special brought a limited-slip differential, while seven-spoke alloys, half-leather Recaros and a colour-coded grille all added to the sense that this was the most characterful Capri yet.
Nearly 35 years on, it still is. From the outside, its sleek lines and long nose seem a world away from the prosaic people-carriers and thuggish SUVS that clutter up 21st-century Britain. Inside, the low-slung driving position takes some getting used to and, coupled with the sizeable – and very visible – bonnet in front of you, it leaves you feeling as if you’re piloting a fighter jet over Cold War-era Hungary. Or something like that; I’ve never flown a fighter jet. But regardless, it really does the job of cradling you in a way that today’s high-set and more detached seating just doesn’t. If we were to get all zen about it, we’d suggest that it brings you closer to the road both physically and spiritually. Ahem.
Fire it up and the throaty roar of the V6 is a life-affirming thing. You’re not merely going somewhere in the Capri, you’re driving there. It handles tidily in the dry, albeit with a little lean, and though the five-speed ’box has a long throw, there’s no stickiness through the change.
The suspension is better than in any previous Capri, but that live rear axle is still a bit of a shock – with no radius arms, and only staggered dampers to cure the inherent axle tramp. If you’re used to a more modern, dampened experience, and given the pothole epidemic sweeping the UK’S roads right now, you’ll want to choose your path carefully or be prepared to be shaken, not stirred. The brakes need a little signalling ahead, too, but both of these foibles are easy enough to get used to.
And when you do, your reward will be a drive with few of the corners sanded off – and one that’s all the better as a result. MM
‘A 1.3-litre engine in a Capri made as much sense as putting Billy Vunipola in a touch-rugby team’