Our 1981 Ford Corcel II L – A Renord, a Forault… A Car To Remember

Aside from trim details, this ’79 Corcel is not too different from my brother’s. 

In our last installment, I shared details about my dad’s health problems and his purchase of a really nice ’79 Opel Rekord. At that time, both of my brothers were also looking to buy new cars.

While car financing was not new to Uruguay by any means, long-term ones (5 years) were. In 1980, after many years the ban on importing assembled cars was lifted and the market was flooded with foreign vehicles, both from well-known and lesser-known brands. Many of these, especially the less-known ones, were sold on very advantageous terms; like Skodas. My father’s generation knew exactly what a Skoda was, but if I hadn’t been an avid reader of automotive magazines and books, I probably wouldn’t have known about them. Anyway, everyone was a bit curious about why the engine was in the rear. Many families had owned rear-engined Renaults, but by the ’80s people felt that the only car still morally authorized to have a rear engine was VW, in its various models. Well, I digress… none of us ever went to take a look at the Skodas.

My brothers visited a GM dealer offering a really good deal on new, locally-assembled Chevrolet Chevettes, complete with some accessories and loans for 60 months. They ordered two identical, white, 2-door sedans and went home. Then someone remembered that the owner of that dealership also had two other stores—one for Fiat and one for Ford. There was an interesting car, the Brazilian-made-and-assembled Ford Corcel II. I won’t go into the history or characteristics of the Ford Corcel here, as you can read all about it in this great article by Rubens HERE. Of course, the car had evolved a lot since it first appeared in 1969, but essentially, it was the same car with a different coat.

1979 Ford Corcel II photo from the Cohort by Alberto Simon. 

It’s time to tell you about some interesting facts in our car market that changed perhaps 10 or 15 years ago. Before that date, there was no such thing as a test drive. Occasionally, a brand would organize a huge event where they would let you drive around the block. Once a year. The model they had might have had 50,000 km on it. Period. Only in recent years, with the rise of large dealerships along the highways with huge lots, have buyers been able to try a car before purchasing.

So, in those pre-test drive days, my brother called several of my father’s friends who already owned a Corcel (there were many). Three of them said, “Of course!” and one said, “Come, pick it up and bring it home tomorrow.” Even though the “test drive” car was technically new, it had already accumulated many kilometers. In all, my brother was satisfied, so the order was changed from two Chevettes to a Ford Corcel II L (mid-level trim, at the time the cheapest available) and a Corcel II L Belina (same, but in station wagon form).

There were no options, as was often the case; the accessories were part of what would be optional in Brazil but mandatory in Uruguay. These included a 1.6 engine instead of the 1.4, a 5-speed transmission instead of the 4-speed, electric windshield washers, power brakes, and an AM/FM radio. Due to our proximity to Brazil, it was common to visit the border to have accessories like trim, passenger-side mirrors, extra lights, remote-control mirrors, and even air conditioning installed. Brazil, being as hot as it is, was an early market for A/C, and there were successful installations in small engines like this one. However, air conditioning was not common in Uruguay at the time.

The interior could be had in black or brown. The above photo is from an L model. The LDO added longer armrests, a quartz clock, a cassette player, and some extra lighting. On the other hand, the Corcel II came with only a rubber carpet, vinyl upholstery, an uncovered, black-painted metal dashboard, no console, no gear lever protection, and only an AM radio. We’ll delve more into those versions in the next installment, as my family had several Corcels, and I think they deserve their own story. However, if I had to pick, today’s Corcel could be my only COAL –Choice Of All Life, since this was the car I learned to drive in (I took brief stints at the wheel of the Opel, but I never drove it as much as the Corcel).

1979 Ford Corcel II photo from the Cohort by Alberto Simon.

So, on what I think was Friday, June 5, 1981, we drove with my father and my older brother to the dealership to pick up the car. (About the wagon, I had already picked up the wagon with my middle brother at a different location, but unfortunately, that car was sold after only six months, so there’ll be no further mention of it). We had to wait quite a while, as six or seven cars were waiting for delivery that afternoon; most of them white and blue. There was also a red one, which was rare. My brother had ordered a white one, and when he was handed a blue one, he asked about it and they told him, “No problem, kid. You can wait until next week.” He took the blue one.

The Ford Corcel had something that endeared me before I even drove it; the car was absolutely silent. It was hard to believe that such a small engine (which in the Renault 12 wasn’t nearly as smooth) could make so little noise. I still don’t know the reason. Obviously, the exhaust had something to do with it, but I think the assembly was also just really good. Rustproofing, however, was not.

My brother, a lover of the open air, fishing, and travel, was delighted with the traction and ability of the FWD Corcel to seemingly take him anywhere. I believe that if Ford had known about the kind of use and abuse the car endured over 184,000 km, they would have given him one for free. That’s not to say the car was flawless, far from it. It went through four gearboxes under warranty (the third wouldn’t engage), and a similar number of clutch cables were replaced at the firewall.

I also got caught in a heavy rainstorm without wipers, which had ceased to function, and I had to stop every few meters to clean the windshield with a rag since I was in the middle of a very wide avenue. I also nearly lost all braking power (it had twin circuits), just managing to stop as I entered downtown; I downshifted to second and first and got further assistance from my passenger with the parking brake. And no, none of those issues happened when the car was already old.

As always in my country’s history, Brazil and Argentina often change their exchange rates, making it either cheaper or more expensive to travel between the two. In 1982, all hell broke loose. We had a fixed exchange rate to the dollar, which the government stopped honoring. So, on a Friday, businesses closed with the dollar at 14 pesos, and a lieutenant general appeared on TV explaining that we’d be leaving that system immediately. The dollar skyrocketed to 30 pesos. Those who earned dollars (like exporters) benefited, while most of the population lost huge chunks of their salaries.

As bad as our situation was, in 1983, Argentina’s was worse. So, many products were cheaper over there. My brother, a friend, and I hopped into the Corcel and drove to Buenos Aires. On the way, we were stopped by Argentine police for a supposedly malfunctioning light, which, of course, was just an excuse to ask for a “contribution.” On the way back from Buenos Aires, where we had some amazing food, we brought back about 30 boxes of alfajores. If you don’t know what an alfajor is, look up “dulce de leche” and then “alfajor.” This brand was the absolute best of its time, and still is a leader in the market. Let’s just say that if the Corcel is still around (which I greatly doubt), it would have a hard time towing 550 lbs of my older brother and me combined, thanks to a lifetime of eating alfajores.

Once, in the summer of ’82/’83, I went with my brother to a swampy area near the Brazilian border. Although he’s a CPA, his true passion has always been reptiles. He was the first Uruguayan turtle breeder and has described many husbandry techniques and behavioral traits of native species.

So, there he was in the swamp (I said I’d never go there), while I stayed in the car, eating cheese, schnitzels, and drinking milk. I think we also had hard-boiled eggs. He could live like that for days, as long as the milk came in life-long boxes.  After several hours, he decided he’d had enough of the place and came back to the car so we could sleep for the night. By morning, the swamp had taken its toll on him, and he wasn’t feeling too well. “Rafa, you’ll have to drive.” “What if a control point stops us?” “I don’t think there will be any.” I drove for quite a while on that route (which no longer exists since the swamps have dried up, and towns and beaches have expanded). I didn’t see another person, much less police control points.

Finally, we reached a main road, where he took over, and we went to the nearest town, where I had the best glass bottle of my addiction-inducing cold drink. I still remember it.

1979 Ford Corcel II photo from the Cohort by Alberto Simon. 

The car always smelled of something animal-related. But nothing compares to the time we carried an ammonia thermometer in the back seat. The ammonia was in a small glass vial, probably no bigger than the smallest vial you can find. You can guess what happened; the vial fell and broke. For years, there were towels used exclusively to ride in the car, as well as old rags. I can’t remember anything as overpowering as that smell. And no, at the time, he didn’t have a girlfriend, though, by the time he met my sister-in-law, the smell probably still lingered.

The Corcel likely had a more interesting life than most cars. Hard economic times hit just when it was ready to be traded in, so my brother kept it for several more years, with rust everywhere, the engine smoking, and the gearbox whining. Finally, in January ’92, I drove it to the dealership where my brother had purchased a new car, and where, amazingly, they agreed to take the Corcel as a trade-in. I drove it carefully, knowing that I didn’t have brakes, but unlike before, I was prepared for it.

Compared to the Corcel, the new car was a footnote, because it was kept for just three years, was as steady as a rock, and was driven for 100,000 km with nothing but oil changes. Thirty years later, my brother still says the ’92 Chevrolet Chevette he briefly owned (with its rear-wheel drive, outdated mechanics, and design) is the most reliable car he’s ever had. And he’s probably right.

The next installment won’t be a surprise, as I told you, there were so many Corcels in my immediate family that I feel they deserve their own article.

Related CC reading:

Curbside Classic: 1979 Ford Corcel II – The Confusing History Of A Brazilian Multinational Classic