1965 Ford F-100 Short Bed Step Side on 2040-cars

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Ford recalls 277,000 Super Duty trucks over foggy rear-view camera

Ford has issued a recall that applies to around 277,000 units of the Super Duty pickup built between the 2017 and 2020 model years. The campaign also includes about 13,000 units of the Lincoln Continental, and it aims to fix an issue that makes the rear-view camera foggy. Assigned recall number 22V-644 by the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA), the recall includes 139,131 units of the F-250, 109,960 units of the F-350, 14,830 units of the F-450, and 13,119 units of the Continental. The affected trucks are all fitted with the Ultimate Trailer Tow Camera system and were built between November 12, 2015, and March 10, 2020, while the affected Lincoln models are equipped with the 360-degree camera and were made from November 30, 2015 to March 10, 2020.  Ford explains "degradation of the coating on an internal rear-view camera lens can lead to a progressively foggy or cloudy image." It adds ultraviolet radiation causes the problem and that this issue increases the risk of an accident, though it's not aware of accidents or injuries. Owners of affected cars and trucks who have already paid to get the issue fixed have until September 30, 2022, to ask Ford for a refund. The company will begin notifying customers about the recall by mail on September 12, 2022, and it will ask them to take their vehicle to the nearest authorized dealer to get the rear-view camera replaced free of charge. Related video: This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings. Restoring Headlights | Autoblog Details | Complete Detail Bonus

Nuclear-powered concept cars from the Atomic Age

In the 1950s and early 60s, the dawn of nuclear power was supposed to lead to a limitless consumer culture, a world of flying cars and autonomous kitchens all powered by clean energy. In Europe, it offered the then-limping continent a cheap, inexhaustible supply of power after years of rationing and infrastructure damage brought on by two World Wars.
The development of nuclear-powered submarines and ships during the 1940s and 50s led car designers to begin conceptualizing atomic vehicles. Fueled by a consistent reaction, these cars would theoretically produce no harmful byproducts and rarely need to refuel. Combining these vehicles with the new interstate system presented amazing potential for American mobility.
But the fantasy soon faded. There were just too many problems with the realities of nuclear power. For starters, the powerplant would be too small to attain a reaction unless the car contained weapons-grade atomic materials. Doing so would mean every fender-bender could result in a minor nuclear holocaust. Additionally, many of the designers assumed a lightweight shielding material or even forcefields would eventually be invented (they still haven't) to protect passengers from harmful radiation. Analyses of the atomic car concept at the time determined that a 50-ton lead barrier would be necessary to prevent exposure.

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.