Pub quiz time: what was the first non all-terrain production car to feature four-wheel drive? Audi Quattro? AMC Eagle? Subaru Leone perhaps? You can keep your Vorsprung durch Technik in this case, this was progress through technology put into practice across the channel, the efforts of a British manufacturer that had become a liquidated soup by the time Audi delivered their first Quattro systems to showrooms. In 1966, ten years before it ceased trading altogether, Jensen Motors released the FF. It was somewhat of a mongrel of a design aesthetically speaking, but one that not only bought four-wheel drive to the roads, but ABS as well.
To the untrained eye, the FF is easily mistaken for the more famous Jensen Interceptor, the two models sharing the Italian lines drawn by Carrozzeria Touring, with one or two subtle differences to distinguish them aside from badging, such as the twin air vents that appeared on the FF’s front wings.
They differed from each other more significantly in terms of popularity. While the rear-wheel drive Interceptor went on to sell some six and a half thousand units, FF production dispatched just 320 cars across its five-year lifespan. This was largely due to “quirks” in the FF’s design that made it all but impossible to build them in left-hand drive configuration. Both prop shafts protruded into the left-hand seat space, and as you can imagine there was a complete lack of room for the steering gear and brake servo on that side of the vehicle. This limited the car’s sales potential massively, as Jensen’s principal markets shifted overseas towards the start of the 1970s. It was expensive too, some 30% pricier than other GT cars from more prestigious manufacturers at the time.
For all of the lack of foresight though, and despite less-than-impressive sale figures, the FF was and remains a good car, though perhaps not a great one. The 6.3 liters of Chrysler V8 wedged into the front of the machine was never going to win awards for beauty, but this is a solid power plant, developing 330hp to translate to the road through the Jensen’s automatic ‘box. The transmission leaves something to be desired (namely an ability to shift it on your own), but the powertrain was potent enough to tease 140mph out of the machine, which was some 20mph faster than a Jaguar XJ6. The motor still feels reasonably sharp these days, and while it’s never going to accelerate in the fashion that pins your eyes back into your skull, as a touring machine with a torquey-enough V8, it’s a pleasure to cruise about in.
Then of course there is the four-wheel drive aspect, designed by Ferguson Research and giving the Jensen its FF (Ferguson Formula) designation. Up to that point, such a system had only been seen on all-terrain vehicles and various one-offs or race cars like the Ferguson P99 and BRM P67 F1 machines. The Ferguson system for the street was designed to deliver a 33:67 split of power between front and rear wheels respectively, a ratio that was thought to give absolutely perfect roadholding abilities. It was said that you could take the car on a skid pad and struggle to get it to misbehave, if you could even manage to upset it at all. Adding to its element of safety and security was the Dunlop Maxaret ABS, the mechanical system had achieved noteworthiness in the aviation world and although not as good as the electronic systems that started to appear in later decades, its addition to the Jensen FF alongside the four-wheel drive technology lead to Sports Illustrated declaring the FF as being the safest car in the world. What they know about automotive safety is beyond me, but you get the point.
The thing is though, when we talk about cars, as important as safety is, it’s just a little, well, dull. It’s necessary and should be celebrated, but it doesn’t capture the imagination in the same way that speed and style can. Thankfully, for the most part, the FF manages to adequately deliver on those fronts. I say “mostly” because this car, just like the Interceptor, is one of those odd beasts that changes character depending on which angle you view it from.
For example, the front end looks great: bold and striking, every inch a muscle car. The rear of the machine delivers as well, the great expanse of curved glass that protrudes from the somewhat bulbous haunches, but then there’s that bit in the middle where it all goes a bit Reliant Scimitar. Sacrilege to say, maybe, but I’m just not a fan. Luckily, it all goes right again on the inside, the luxury humidor of an interior with the leather-clad clock binnacles and sumptuous wooden steering wheel, all enjoyed from wonderfully comfortable seats.
So, a classic success story, or an innovative design that failed to deliver? The arguments for both sides of the coin are compelling and, just like the exterior styling, depend on which side you’re viewing the facts from. But isn’t that a great thing? Even after a day in the company of the FF, on loan thanks to my friends at The Classic Motor Hub, I’m still undecided as to if I would want to own one or not, and that speaks volumes in its own way because cars that you immediately accept or reject never ask you to study them as much as the so-called middle-grounders like this Jensen. I’d love to hear your opinions on this landmark of engineering design that seems to have been more or less buried under the likes of AWD and 4WD cars that came later but won more races—what’s your take on the FF?
