1999 Mercury Sable Gs Sedan 4-door 3.0l on 2040-cars

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Ford finds flex-fuel engine design plays big role in emissions output

How bad is ethanol for your engine? There's been a lot of debate on this issue as the US considers upping the biofuel content in the national gasoline supply from 10 percent (E10) to 15 percent (E15). The ethanol industry and some scientists say higher ethanol blends show no "meaningful differences" in new engines while the oil industry says ethanol creates health risks. Researchers working at the Ford Research and Innovation Center decided to take a closer look at how a wide range of gas-ethanol blends - E0, E10, E20, E30, E40, E55 and E80 - affected the emissions coming out of a flex-fuel 2006 Mercury Grand Marquis. To see the full report, printed in the journal Environmental Science & Technology, requires payment, but there is an abstract and Green Car Congress has some more details. The gist is that, "with increasing ethanol content in the fuel, the tailpipe emissions of ethanol, acetaldehyde, formaldehyde, methane, and ammonia increased." At least NOx and NMHC emissions decreased. The researchers say that the effects are due to the fuel and "are expected for all FFVs," but that the way that a manufacturer calibrates the engine will affect NOx, THC, and NMOG emissions. It's this last bit that's important, since the researchers found, "Higher ethanol content in gasoline affects several fundamental fuel properties that can impact emissions. ... These changes can have positive or negative effects that can depend on engine design, hardware, and control strategy. In addition to direct emissions impacts, higher ethanol content fuel can also provide more efficient combustion and overall engine operation under part-load conditions and under knock-limited higher-load conditions." So, as we head towards more ethanol in our fuel supply (maybe), manufacturers are going to need to learn how to burn it most efficiently.

Junkyard Gem: 1991 Mercury Capri

Ford has gotten a lot of use out of the Capri name in the United States. First, there was the Lincoln Capri in the 1950s, followed by the Ford Capri Mk1 (which was sold by Mercury dealers in the USA but never actually badged as a Mercury). Then came the 1979-1986 Mercury Capri, built on the very successful Fox Platform and essentially a clone of the Mustang. Finally, in 1991, the Australian Ford Capri came to the United States. Here is an example of this rare car that I spotted in a Northern California self-service yard not long ago. Mechanically speaking, the 1991-1994 Capri was a Mazda 323 under the skin, complete with a member of the same B-series engine family that went into such cars as the Miata and Ford Escort. So, for a few years in the early 1990s, car shoppers who wanted a sporty Mazda convertible could choose between a Miata and a Capri. The Capri had front-wheel-drive, but could be had with factory turbocharging. These cars were reliable and fun, but had a tough time competing with the Miata in the showroom battles. You'll see the occasional example now and then, but most of the 1991-1994 Capris have met the same fate that awaits this one. Related Video:

Car Stories: Owning the SHO station wagon that could've been

A little over a year ago, I bought what could be the most interesting car I will ever own. It was a 1987 Mercury Sable LS station wagon. Don't worry – there's much more to this story. I've always had a soft spot for wagons, and I still remember just how revolutionary the Ford Taurus and Mercury Sable were back in the mid-1980s. As a teenager, I fell especially hard for the 220-horsepower 1989 Ford Taurus SHO – so much so that I'd go on to own a dozen over the next 20 years. And like many other quirky enthusiasts, I always wondered what a SHO station wagon would be like. That changed last year when I bought the aforementioned Sable LS wagon, festooned with the high-revving DOHC 3.0-liter V6 engine and five-speed manual transmission from a 1989 Taurus SHO. In addition, the wagon had SHO front seats, a SHO center console, and the 140-mph instrument cluster with mileage that matched the engine. When I bought it, that number was just under 60,000 – barely broken in for the overachieving Yamaha-sourced mill. The engine and transmission weren't the only upgrades. It wore dual-piston PBR brakes with the choice Eibach/Tokico suspension combo in front. The rear featured SHO disc brakes with MOOG cargo coils and Tokico shocks, resulting in a wagon that handled ridiculously well while still retaining a decent level of comfort and five-door functionality. I could attack the local switchbacks while rowing gears to a 7,000-rpm soundtrack just as easily as loading up on lumber at the hardware store. Over time I added a front tower brace to stiffen things a bit as well as a bigger, 73-mm mass airflow sensor for better breathing, and I sourced some inexpensive 2004 Taurus 16-inch five-spoke wheels, refinished in gunmetal to match the two-tone white/gunmetal finish on the car. That, along with some minor paint and body work, had me winning trophies at every car show in town. And yet, what I loved most about the car wasn't its looks or performance, but rather its history. And here's where things also get a little philosophical, because I absolutely, positively love old used cars. Don't get me wrong – new cars are great. Designers can sculpt a timeless automotive shape, and engineers can construct systems and subsystems to create an exquisite chassis with superb handling and plenty of horsepower. But it's the age and mileage that turn machines into something more than the sum of their parts.