The De Tomaso Pantera is a unique blend of Italian style and American muscle – a mid-engine exotic born from an unlikely partnership between a boutique Italian carmaker and the Ford Motor Company. Conceived in the early 1970s, this sharp-edged sports car combined a sleek Italian design with a brawny Detroit V8, creating an automotive love child of two continents. It emerged in the quirky automotive landscape of the 1970s as an “odd mid-engined supercar” that “never earned acclaim as Ferrari and Lamborghini did; yet its iconic design and Ford-sourced engine made it an icon of the time”. For car enthusiasts, the Pantera’s story is a compelling tale of ambition, innovation, quirks, and raw horsepower – all wrapped in a package that could make a Ferrari owner sweat. In this article, we’ll dive deep into the Pantera’s origin and design, its technical feats and foibles, how it stacked up against Italian rivals, its evolution through the years, and even its modern rebirth in spirit. Buckle up (and maybe keep a fire extinguisher handy) as we explore the legend of the Pantera.
Origins and Design: An Italian-American Lovechild
The Pantera’s birth was the result of a transatlantic romance between Alejandro de Tomaso’s Italian sports car company and Ford’s desire for a European-style exotic. Alejandro de Tomaso was an Argentine-born racing driver turned automaker who set up shop in Modena, Italy – the heart of Italy’s sports car territory. By the late 1960s, De Tomaso had produced the Mangusta (Italian for “mongoose”), a striking Ford-powered sports car with a backbone chassis, but it was a bit rough around the edges. Sensing potential, Ford executive Lee Iacocca – head of Ford North America – saw an opportunity. Ford hadn’t had a true sports car since the early Thunderbirds, and Iacocca “wanted a sports car that his dealers could offer to match the Corvette”. In fact, lore has it that Henry Ford II (aka “The Deuce”) was still smarting from Enzo Ferrari’s rejection of Ford’s buyout in the 1960s and was eager to beat Ferrari at his own game; after winning at Le Mans with the GT40, Ford “hooked up with De Tomaso Automobili to beat [Ferrari] on the showroom floor”. The business motivations and egos aligned to give De Tomaso the backing to create a new supercar for Ford.
De Tomaso’s task was clear: build a mid-engine “Panther” (the English translation of Pantera) that could be mass-produced, sold in the U.S. through Ford’s Lincoln-Mercury dealers, and offer Ferrari-level thrills at a Ford price. To achieve this, De Tomaso drew on both local and imported talent. The car’s design was crafted by Tom Tjaarda, an American-born designer working at Carrozzeria Ghia in Italy, who was just in his mid-20s at the time. Tjaarda penned a timeless shape: low-slung and wide, with crisp lines and a aggressive wedge profile that looked every bit the Italian exotic. The Pantera’s form featured pop-up headlamps, a long, vented hood, and muscular haunches – distinctly Italian in flair. In fact, when the Pantera made its debut at the New York Auto Show in March 1970 (after a premiere in Modena), journalists were so impressed that they remarked the Pantera’s design made the Corvette look tame by comparison, predicting they had seen “the future of sports cars.” The car’s name and badging underscored its unique identity: the logo included a T-shaped icon (a cattle brand used by De Tomaso’s ranching ancestors) and a subtle Argentine flag motif in tribute to Alejandro de Tomaso’s heritage.
Under the skin, the Pantera was just as advanced. Unlike the Mangusta’s odd backbone frame, the Pantera used a steel monocoque chassis – the first time De Tomaso employed a full unibody structure. This not only improved rigidity and crash safety, but also made production easier at higher volumes. The engineering was overseen by Gianpaolo Dallara (whom De Tomaso poached from Lamborghini’s engineering team), ensuring the car’s suspension and dynamics were up to supercar standards. The result was a car with an Italian chassis and design, ready to accept some Detroit muscle.
Crucially, to meet Ford’s performance and reliability goals, the Pantera was built around an American heart – a powerful Ford V8 – making it a true Italian-American hybrid. Final assembly took place in Italy (initially by Vignale coachworks), but the cars were destined for American showrooms. This international parentage gave the Pantera a bit of an identity crisis (was it Italian or American?), but also a broad appeal. It was both a sleek Latin exotic and a brutish American hot-rod, all in one. And thanks to Ford’s involvement, it came loaded with features that U.S. customers expected; amenities like power windows, air conditioning, and even buzzing warning chimes for open doors were standard – niceties that seemed extravagant to European sports car buyers at the time. The Pantera was shaping up to be a “marriage made in heaven” between Italian style and American substance, as some observers called it.
The Beast Beneath: Technical Specs and Engineering
To compete with the era’s top supercars, the Pantera needed serious firepower and engineering prowess. De Tomaso and Ford delivered exactly that. At the core of the Pantera lurked a Ford 351 cubic inch V8 (5.8-liter) sourced from Ford’s high-performance Cleveland engine family. In the earliest Panteras (1971 models), this pushrod V8 churned out about 335 horsepower (330 bhp) in European tune. Even in emissions-tamed U.S. form, it produced roughly 300 hp, giving the Pantera a brawny, torque-rich character. In fact, the engine’s high torque output at low revs meant the Pantera was surprisingly tractable around town – unlike a high-strung Italian V12, it didn’t need to be revved to the sky to make power. Period reports noted that the Ford V8’s torque “reduced the need for excessive gear changing at low speeds,” making the Pantera “much less demanding to drive in urban conditions” than many European exotics of the day.
Power was fed to the rear wheels through a sturdy ZF 5-speed manual transaxle, the same German-made gearbox used in the mighty Ford GT40 and the Maserati Bora. This transaxle was mounted behind the engine, driving a fully independent suspension at the rear. The Pantera featured double A-arm independent suspension at all four corners with coil springs and shock absorbers, along with rack-and-pinion steering and power-assisted four-wheel disc brakes as standard. These specs were cutting-edge for the early ’70s – many American cars were still on leaf springs and drum brakes – so the Pantera was thoroughly modern in its running gear. The car rode on wide alloy wheels (15-inch wheels were big for the era) and performance tires, giving it a menacing stance and plenty of grip.
Importantly, the Pantera’s construction was relatively straightforward despite its supercar layout. The steel monocoque made it robust, and Ford’s production savvy helped iron out some early build issues. Initial batches of Panteras were essentially hand-built by Vignale in Italy – the first 75 U.S.-bound cars even had quirky push-button door handles – and these early cars suffered from typical Italian cottage-industry woes: minimal rust proofing and sloppy fit and finish, with body solder slathered on to hide panel gaps. However, once Ford got involved more directly, they applied precision stamping for body panels and better quality control, “resulting in improved overall quality” for later cars. In other words, Ford muscle not only powered the Pantera but also whipped its production into shape.
In terms of dimensions, the De Tomaso Pantera was low and sleek. It sat only about 43 inches tall (just over 1.1 meters), with a width around 1.7 m (67 inches) in early models – remarkably narrow by modern standards, but typical for a two-seat exotic then. Its wheelbase stretched 98.4 inches (2,500 mm), placing the cockpit relatively far forward and the engine snug behind the seats under a rear deck. With a curb weight around 3,100 lbs (1,420 kg), the Pantera wasn’t a featherweight, but it was lighter than its V12 competitors, thanks in part to its compact size and simple steel construction.
The car’s layout bestowed a near 50/50 weight distribution, promising balanced handling. Cooling was handled by front-mounted radiators ducted through the nose – a design that would later prove only just adequate (more on that when we discuss its flaws). The interior was a two-seat cabin with a dramatic driver-focused dash. Early Panteras had twin pod instrument clusters, later replaced by a unified dash with all gauges angled toward the driver. The shifter for the 5-speed was gated, Ferrari-style, and the pedals were famously offset toward the center (a consequence of that wide engine and footwell packaging). Despite being a “luxury” supercar with standard AC, the cabin was snug: drivers over 6 feet tall found headroom limited and footwell cramped. Still, the Pantera offered more everyday comfort than many rivals – it even had a decent-sized front trunk and a parcel shelf over the engine that doubled as a luggage bin (albeit a warm one).
On paper, the Pantera’s performance was formidable. Ford’s V8 gave it muscle-car-like acceleration, and the mid-engine traction helped put the power down. The 0–60 mph sprint took about 5.5 seconds in the 1971 Pantera, according to Car and Driver tests, and top speed was in the 160-170 mph range depending on gearing. These numbers placed the Pantera squarely in supercar territory: in the early ’70s, a Ferrari 365 GTB/4 “Daytona” did 0–60 in ~5.5 sec and topped out ~174 mph, and the Lamborghini Miura was in the 5.5–6.5 sec 0–60 bracket with ~170 mph top end. In other words, the Pantera could hang with the world’s fastest. It even outran Maserati’s Bora (another V8 mid-engine GT) in contemporary comparisons – one 1973 report found the Pantera a full 1.7 seconds quicker to 60 mph than the Bora. Clearly, the decision to stuff a big American V8 amidships paid off in raw performance.
Numbers aside, what was the De Tomaso Pantera like to drive? Contemporary accounts – and the tales of owners – paint a picture of a car that was thrilling but also demanding in certain ways. The Pantera’s acceleration was fierce: mash the throttle and the Holley carburetor-fed V8 would launch the car forward with a wall of torque, accompanied by an American V8 bellow quite unlike the shrill wail of a Ferrari V12. Shifting through the ZF gearbox was a mechanical delight (if a bit heavy in effort), and thanks to that broad torque curve, you didn’t need to shift often. In fact, one reviewer quipped you could “drive around ants on the freeway at 80 mph” in higher gears, highlighting the car’s flexible power and stable handling. Another wrote that a hard launch in the Pantera “would leave most American muscle car owners with their necks wound up like rubber band airplane motors” – a colorful way to say the Pantera could give even big-block Camaro drivers a case of whiplash.
As speed built, the De Tomaso Pantera really came into its element. The mid-engine balance gave it excellent stability at high speeds – no small feat in an era when aerodynamics were still rudimentary. The car’s nose tended to stay planted (especially after the 1972 Pantera L added a small chin spoiler for front downforce), and drivers reported that the steering actually lightened as the car went faster, as if urging you to take that next corner a little quicker. The unassisted rack-and-pinion steering was quick and gave solid feedback, though at parking-lot speeds it could feel like wrestling a panther (no pun intended) thanks to the wide front tires and lack of power assist. On a twisty road, however, the Pantera could be coaxed into a beautiful rhythm: it had a natural agility, turning in sharply and clinging to curves with impressively neutral balance. One advantage it held over some rivals was a lower polar moment (the engine was in the middle, not over the front axle), so it didn’t understeer like a front-engined GT car. If anything, the Pantera could snap into oversteer if provoked – dumping 350 lb-ft of torque through 1970s tires in a mid-engine chassis required a judicious right foot. But keep it smooth, and it would reward you with sports car grace.
Not all aspects of the drive were rosy. The brakes, while four-wheel discs, were reported as strong but prone to fade under hard use (a common issue of the era before modern brake pad compounds). The suspension, comprising unequal-length A-arms and coilovers, was tuned on the firm side, which kept handling tight but also meant a rough ride on bumpy American roads. Some owners found the Pantera’s ride harsh and the structure prone to the occasional rattle or squeak – reminders of its semi-handbuilt nature. The cabin ergonomics were also a mixed bag. The low roof and shallow windshield gave a racy feel but also a somewhat limited view out (rear visibility in particular, past the engine deck, was challenging). The seating position was reclined and sporty, but as mentioned, taller drivers had to slouch or risk brushing the headliner. The pedals being offset toward the center made long drives a bit uncomfortable for some. And then there was the infamous cigarette lighter placement: early Panteras had a lighter on the center console edge where a driver might rest their elbow – several unsuspecting drivers found they’d inadvertently branded their elbow or turned on the lighter with their arm, an issue even noted in period reviews. Quirky, to say the least.
When it came to city driving or traffic, the Pantera revealed a temperamental side. That big V8, when stuck idling in summer heat, had a tendency to push the limits of the cooling system. Overheating became one of the Pantera’s notorious issues – owners often dealt with rising coolant temps in traffic jams, and many later retrofitted better radiators or fans. The cabin, with the engine right behind, also got toasty; the AC was a welcome feature, but it struggled to counteract the heat soak (especially if your Pantera decided to vent some hot coolant underhood). The clutch was heavy, and the throttle, while responsive, could be a bit touchy – not ideal for inching along in a traffic crawl. In short, the Pantera was happiest devouring open roads, not sitting in downtown gridlock.
That said, the De Tomaso Pantera was overall more user-friendly than many Italian exotics of its day. It had real trunk space (the front trunk could fit a couple of soft bags), a synchromesh transmission that was easier to shift than Ferrari’s dogleg gearboxes, and an engine that, at its core, was a simple American V8 – meaning it could be serviced by any mechanic familiar with Ford engines. In an era when owning a Ferrari meant constant tuning of multiple carburetors and finicky ignition systems, the Pantera’s Ford V8 could go thousands of miles between adjustments and didn’t mind if you skipped an oil change or two (not that you should!). It would happily idle in traffic (overheating aside) without fouling spark plugs, and it drank broadly available 91-octane fuel once compression was lowered for the U.S. models. This relative ease of use was a selling point for the car in America.
Strengths, Flaws, and Quirks
Every great car has its strengths and its flaws, and the De Tomaso Pantera had plenty of both – which only adds to its character. Let’s start with what the Pantera got right, because that’s what earned it a loyal following:
- Stunning Design and Presence: The Pantera looked like a supercar should. Low, wide, aggressive – it was a head-turner everywhere it went. Many consider it one of the best-looking cars of the 1970s, full stop. It had the visual drama to park next to a Lamborghini Miura or Countach and still hold its own. From the pointed nose to the decklid slats over the tail, it just oozed cool. Exotic Italian styling? Check.
- Power and Performance: In stock form, the Pantera was fast – easily a 150+ mph machine when many contemporary Corvettes and Jaguars struggled to hit 130. It accelerated with authority, and its mid-engine layout gave it a level of handling prowess uncommon in American-market cars. In a straight line or around a racetrack, a well-driven Pantera could embarrass much pricier machinery. Owners loved that it had the heart of a muscle car (Ford 351 V8), meaning cheap and effective horsepower upgrades were available. With simple mods (cam, carb, exhaust), Panteras could push well beyond 400 hp, turning them into absolute rockets.
- Affordability (for a supercar): Perhaps the Pantera’s biggest strength was value. At roughly $10,000 USD new (around 1971-72), it was literally a fraction of the cost of an equivalent Ferrari or Lamborghini, which ran $20,000–$25,000+ in the early ’70s. One dealer even dubbed it a “bargain basement Ferrari and Lamborghini killer”. This meant a broader range of enthusiasts could aspire to own a Pantera. Even today, classic Panteras trade for significantly less than a vintage Ferrari Daytona or Lambo Miura. As one source put it, “you can buy a classic Italian supercar at less than muscle car prices” with the Pantera, and still get parts for it through Ford specialists. It truly democratized the supercar concept in some respects.
- Easy Maintenance and Upgrades: Because the Pantera was “basically a Ford” mechanically, service and parts were easier to come by (especially in the U.S.) than for exotic Italian engines. Need a new water pump or alternator? You could find one at a Ford dealership. The engine had a simple pushrod V8 architecture – no exotic overhead cams or six-Weber carburetor setups to sync. This also meant many Panteras got hot-rodded: owners would bolt on performance parts from the Ford catalog or aftermarket. The downside is that original, unmodified Panteras are harder to find (purists bemoan that “cafe racer” mentality), but the upside is that the car invited personalization. It was a tinkerer’s supercar.
- Transatlantic Charm: The Pantera’s mixed heritage turned out to be endearing. It had an Italian soul but spoke with an American accent. Enthusiasts love that it brought together the best of both worlds – you get to attend Italian car shows and muscle car meets and be welcomed at both. It’s a conversation piece, a car with a great story (how many cars can you talk about Lee Iacocca and coachbuilder Vignale in the same sentence?). This unique identity is a strength unto itself, giving the Pantera a special place in automotive history as a successful “joint venture” car.
However, the Pantera was far from perfect. In fact, it earned a reputation for a laundry list of flaws and gremlins that could frustrate owners (and in at least one famous case, led to literal gunfire). Some of the notable issues:
- Overheating and Cooling Woes: As mentioned, the Pantera had a habit of running hot. The mid-mounted radiator and engine bay didn’t get enough airflow at low speeds, and the early cars’ fans were inadequate. Many a Pantera would start to boil over on a hot day in traffic. Owners joked that “Pantera” was Italian for “runs hot” (it’s not). The problem was so prevalent that numerous fixes exist – from upgraded aluminum radiators and better fans to adding vents. But in stock form, it was a real problem and could lead to blown head gaskets if not minded.
- Electrical Gremlins: Like many Italian cars of the time, the Pantera’s wiring and electrics could be flaky. Everything from power window failures to starter issues were reported. The combination of Italian wiring harnesses and American electronics wasn’t always harmonious. Headlights sometimes refused to pop up or down, the AC was known to quit, and gauges weren’t paragons of accuracy. Keeping a Pantera’s systems in tune was part of the ownership challenge.
- Build Quality and Rust: The early Panteras especially were, to put it kindly, roughly assembled. As noted, they “weren’t assembled well” – body panels didn’t fit perfectly, interior trim could be loose, and rattles were common. Rust was another demon: with scant rust-proofing, the steel monocoque could succumb to corrosion, especially in wet climates. Floors, rocker panels, and wheel wells were typical rot zones. Later cars improved a bit (and many surviving Panteras have been restored with modern rust-proofing), but it’s an Achilles heel. If you see a Pantera with suspiciously perfect bodywork, check closely – it might be more bondo (body filler) than steel underneath!
- Mechanical Weak Spots: While the drivetrain was stout, the Pantera had a few component weaknesses. The suspension bushings and components could wear quickly, leading to clunks or alignment issues (some owners reported the suspension “used to fall apart” under hard use – a bit hyperbolic, but it did need periodic rebuilds). The clutch, handling so much torque, could burn out faster than on a mild-mannered car. And the ZF transaxle, while strong, was expensive to fix if you did manage to damage it. There were also reports of minor engine bay fires due to fuel line issues (giving a mid-engine car a bit of a “Italian supercar” cliché).
- Ergonomics and Comfort: We touched on this – the Pantera wasn’t exactly a grand tourer in terms of refinement. Noise levels were high (there’s basically a thin firewall between you and a roaring V8). The cabin would get hot. Long trips could be tiring with the heavy controls and constant sensory assault. And if you or your passenger were large-framed, well, you’d get to know each other real well in that tight cabin. Some of these issues were par for the course in 70s exotics, but since Ford marketed the Pantera to some first-time exotic buyers, it caught a few folks off guard.
Perhaps no anecdote captures the Pantera’s mix of passion and frustration better than the story of Elvis Presley and his Pantera. The King himself bought a used 1971 De Tomaso Pantera in 1974 – supposedly for a song, about $2,500, as it had some issues – and soon experienced the car’s less endearing traits. One day, when the Pantera refused to start (one too many click-click with no vroom), Elvis lost his temper. His solution? He pulled out a handgun and fired two shots into the troublesome Pantera’s dashboard, reportedly blowing out the gauge cluster and windshield. That’s one way to fix an electrical problem! The car did eventually start after that “persuasion,” or so the legend goes. Elvis’s Pantera, bullet holes and all, has since been preserved in a museum, a testament to both the car’s rock ’n’ roll cool factor and its ability to drive owners up the wall. Not many cars can claim an Elvis bullet hole in their resume.
As Jay Leno once quipped, De Tomaso had a habit of not fully sorting out their cars before selling them – “De Tomaso just never quite completed their cars, and the Pantera was no exception.” Owners were effectively beta testers, finishing the job through modifications and improvements. Indeed, many Panteras on the road today are far from factory-spec: enthusiasts have added better radiators, modern ignitions, upgraded brakes, stainless steel coolant pipes, etc., to turn the Pantera into the car it deserved to be.
But for all its foibles, the Pantera’s strengths usually outweighed the flaws in the eyes of devotees. As one modern reviewer put it, turning your nose up at the Pantera isn’t necessary, because for the price it’s an incredible machine. And many of the issues can be remedied or at least tolerated as “character.” After all, if you want an easy, drama-free ride, buy a Lexus – if you want character, buy a classic Italian supercar with a roaring V8 and a hint of madness.
Rivals and Comparisons: Taking on Ferrari and Lamborghini
In the early 1970s, the supercar arena was dominated by Italian thoroughbreds like Ferrari and Lamborghini, with a few entries from Maserati, Aston Martin, and others. The De Tomaso Pantera barged into this exclusive club with something to prove. How did it stack up against its rivals, and was it truly the “Ferrari/Lambo killer” some had hoped?
Ferrari at the time was selling the 365 GTB/4 “Daytona”, a front-engined V12 grand tourer, and preparing its first mid-engine 12-cylinder road car, the 365 GT4 Berlinetta Boxer (launched in 1973). The Daytona was an icon: 4.4L V12 with ~352 hp, 0–60 in ~5.4 sec, top speed about 174 mph. On paper, the Pantera was surprisingly close: its 5.8L V8 had similar horsepower (albeit measured differently), and it too hit 60 in the mid-5-second range and topped out around 160–170 mph. In a drag race, a well-tuned Pantera could nip at a Daytona’s heels, and through twisty roads, the Pantera’s lighter weight and mid-engine balance gave it an edge in agility. But the Ferrari had a higher revving engine, a chassis honed by racing experience, and of course, the prancing horse prestige. The Pantera couldn’t match Maranello’s finesse or mystique – it was more brute force than finesse, more muscle car than thoroughbred. That said, for half to one-third of the price, the Pantera delivered 90% of the performance. It’s no wonder Road Test Magazine actually named the Pantera its 1973 “Import Car of the Year,” beating out Ferrari, Maserati, Lamborghini, and Porsche offerings – a huge upset that spoke to the Pantera’s capabilities when it was sorted out.
Lamborghini’s flagship in the early ’70s was the Miura, the original mid-engine supercar. The Miura had a 3.9L V12 (around 350 hp) mounted transversely behind the seats. It was a bit lighter than the Pantera and had the advantage of that scream-to-8000rpm engine note and jaw-dropping looks. But the Miura was also famously delicate – lift-throttle oversteer could be lethal, and front-end lift at high speed was scary. Performance comparisons are interesting: a Miura P400 did 0–60 in about 6.5 sec, the later Miura SV in around 5.8 sec. The Pantera could do it in ~5.5 sec, so it could out-accelerate a Miura. Top speed for both was similar in the 170 mph range, though Lamborghini liked to claim 180+ for the Miura which was optimistic. In terms of handling, both were engaging but could bite back – the Pantera perhaps a bit more forgiving due to a slightly better weight distribution. Lamborghini’s next act, the Countach, debuted in 1974 just as Ford bowed out of the Pantera deal. The early Countach LP400 had ~370 hp from a 4.0L V12 and could blast 0–60 in 5.5 s and top ~170 mph. By the late ’70s, the Countach gained more power (LP400S, LP500S) and eclipsed the Pantera’s performance, but again, at many times the cost. Lamborghini offered more extreme styling (scissor doors and all) and exclusivity – only a few hundred Miuras and Countaches were built, versus thousands of Panteras. So while a Lambo owner could boast of having something truly rare and exotic, a Pantera owner could retort that his car will run with the bull and perhaps even be easier to live with (at least the Pantera’s doors open normally – useful in a tight parking spot!).
Maserati’s entry, the Bora, was a direct competitor conceptually: an Italian mid-engine V8 GT, launched in 1971. The Bora packed a 4.7L (later 4.9L) V8 with about 310 hp, mated to a ZF 5-speed, clothed in a Giugiaro-designed body. It was more luxurious and civilized than the De Tomaso Pantera – Maserati, under Citroën ownership then, even gave it soft hydraulic Citroën-sourced seats and adjustable pedals. The Bora was praised for its refinement and high-speed stability (it had better aerodynamics), but it was heavier and slower off the line. One test in 1973 clocked the Bora 0–60 in about 7.2 sec, notably behind the Pantera. The Bora also cost nearly three times what a Pantera did (roughly $25k vs $9k). So, while the Bora might have been the banker’s choice for a comfortable mid-engine cruiser, the Pantera was the hot-blooded enthusiast’s choice – rawer but more bang for the buck.
And then there’s the homegrown competition – the Chevrolet Corvette. Iacocca wanted the Pantera to combat the Corvette in dealerships. In truth, the two cars had different philosophies. The C3 Corvette of the early ’70s was front-engined, still had a leaf-sprung rear, and prioritized boulevard comfort as much as performance. A ’71 Corvette with an LT-1 350 V8 or LS5 454 V8 could hustle (0–60 in mid 5s for the big-block, top speed ~135-140), but it lacked the exotic feel, the mid-engine handling, and the European styling flair. Price-wise, the Vette was cheaper (around $6k), but not by as big a margin as one might think – Ford initially hoped Pantera could sell in the thousands per year to steal some Corvette buyers who wanted something more exclusive. In reality, the overlap was limited; the Pantera attracted a different buyer – one who might cross-shop a used Ferrari or a Porsche 911, rather than a Corvette. However, for an American enthusiast, it was undoubtedly interesting that you could walk into a Lincoln-Mercury dealer and choose between a Cougar on one side of the showroom and a Pantera on the other, much as you might cross-shop a Corvette at a Chevy dealer. In sheer performance, the Pantera could best all but the wildest big-block Corvettes, and its Italian styling was in another league. But the Vette had its advantages: it was better built (arguably), had dealer support everywhere, and a proven track record. It’s telling that when the Pantera first arrived, some skeptics called it a “foreign Corvette” – yet those who drove it realized it was something altogether more feral.
Overall, the Pantera’s presence shook up the supercar hierarchy. Here was a car that could legitimately threaten the established Italian exotics in performance, offered at a sticker price that undercut them drastically. As one period writer proclaimed, the Pantera “would leave most American muscle car owners with their necks wound up…,” and it could “steal the thunder” from just about anything on four wheels. Its weaknesses (build quality, finesse) kept it from truly dethroning the likes of Ferrari, but it certainly gave them a scare. In a way, the Pantera was a precursor to later efforts like the Acura NSX in the 1990s – bringing reliability and (relative) affordability to the supercar realm dominated by temperamental Italians. If the stars had aligned (no oil crisis, a bit more development time), the Pantera might have firmly established De Tomaso as a peer to the big names. Even so, in the annals of the 1970s, the Pantera stands proud as a genuine alternative to the Ferraris and Lamborghinis – the underdog that could hunt with the big cats, so to speak.
Evolution and Significance Over Time
The Pantera’s initial run under Ford’s wing was brief – from 1971 to 1974, a few thousand were sold in the U.S. – but that was not the end of the story. After Ford disengaged from the project in late 1974 (citing new emissions/safety regulations and the impact of the oil crisis), Alejandro de Tomaso wasn’t about to let his prize creation die. De Tomaso kept building the Pantera in Italy in “ever smaller numbers” through the late ’70s and ’80s, continually evolving the car to keep it relevant.
Several variants appeared over the years. The De Tomaso Pantera GTS was introduced in Europe in 1972 as a higher-performance version, with a higher-compression engine (~350 hp) and racing aspirations. European GTS models sported flared fenders, bold black hood and decklid accents, and uprated suspension – they were essentially street-legal race cars for Group 3 competition. Ford even brought a version of the GTS to the U.S. in 1974 (stripped of De Tomaso badging due to legal squabbles, and minus the high-compression engine), but by then the partnership was ending. After Ford’s exit, the standard Pantera continued with modest improvements and whatever engines De Tomaso could source. (Ford stopped making the 351 Cleveland in 1974, but De Tomaso managed to get Australian-built 351s for a few years after, and when those dried up, later Panteras even used a 5.0L Ford Windsor V8 in the ’80s.)
In 1975–1979, De Tomaso produced small numbers of Panteras, often built to order. Then, in 1980, the Pantera GT5 was launched – a truly wild wide-body iteration. The GT5 featured radical fiberglass fender flares, making it several inches wider, with steamroller tires to match. It also donned a big front air dam and often a huge rear wing. If the original Pantera was a lithe panther, the GT5 was an all-out race-prepped beast, looking like it was ready to pounce on a Countach. In 1984, the Pantera GT5-S arrived, which kept the wide stance but with smoother, integrated steel fender flares (the “S” stood for steel) and a slightly more refined body kit. These 1980s Panteras gained more luxurious interiors and better brakes to handle the increased performance. Some GT5 and GT5-S engines were tuned by aftermarket specialists to make ~350-400+ hp to keep up with contemporaries like the Ferrari Testarossa and Lamborghini Countach 5000QV.
Production numbers in those later years were extremely low – we’re talking dozens per year, essentially artisan output. By 1990, De Tomaso introduced the last hurrah: the Pantera 90 Si (sometimes just called Pantera Si). This version had a restyled body by Marcello Gandini (designer of the Countach) with pop-up headlights and a modernized look, and it packed a Ford 5.0 with twin turbochargers in some cases. However, only 41 Pantera 90 Si models were made before production finally ceased in 1992. It was the end of an era – the Pantera, largely unchanged in concept since 1971, gracefully bowed out after a two-decade run.
All told, De Tomaso built about 7,200 Panteras over 20 years – the vast majority (around 5,500) during the Ford-backed early ’70s, and the rest in the subsequent years as rarer variants. This made the Pantera by far De Tomaso’s most successful model and one of the longest-running exotic cars in production. It outlived many flash-in-the-pan rivals and became a cornerstone of De Tomaso’s brand. In fact, after the Pantera’s end, De Tomaso struggled; there were attempts at new models (like the Guarà in the ’90s) and a few concept promises, but eventually De Tomaso Automobili went into bankruptcy in 2004 and again in 2015. The Pantera remained their high-water mark – a true swan song for the company.
The significance of the De Tomaso Pantera over time is multifaceted. Culturally, it cemented itself as a 1970s performance icon – posters of Panteras hung on teenage walls alongside Lamborghinis. It was helped by a dose of celebrity cachet (beyond Elvis, other notable Pantera owners included actors and musicians; for instance, rock guitarist Dean Martin Jr. raced one). The Pantera also made a mark in motorsports in privateer hands, racing in events like the 24 Hours of Le Mans and various GT series in the ’70s. While not as storied as Ferrari’s or Porsche’s racing careers, Panteras did see podiums in endurance racing, proving the car’s mettle.
For enthusiasts, the Pantera became a cult classic. Owners formed clubs like POCA (Pantera Owners Club of America) and exchanged tips on how to keep these Italian-American hotrods alive. There’s a strong restomod scene – many Panteras have been modernized with fuel-injected engines, updated suspensions, and even custom interior work, all to make the car more usable while retaining its vintage charm. Conversely, truly original Panteras (especially those early “push-button” cars or mint GT5-S examples) have become highly collectible. What was once “underpriced” – in the ’90s you could snag a Pantera for the price of a used Corvette – has steadily appreciated. Today, a good 1970s Pantera commands into the six figures, reflecting newfound respect for the marque.
Importantly, the De Tomaso Pantera demonstrated the feasibility of mixing American and European traits in a supercar. It wasn’t the first (the Iso Grifo and Bizzarrini, for example, were 1960s GTs with American V8s), but the Pantera was the highest-profile example of that formula and arguably the most successful in volume. It predated the era of globalization by showing how an American V8 could live in an Italian body, foreshadowing things like the Dodge Viper’s Lamborghini-engineered V10 or later collaborations in the auto industry. As one retrospection nicely put it, “the Pantera forever remained an example of a good-looking and affordable supercar, born in Italy and brought to life in the US.” Its legacy is exactly that – a progeny of two automotive cultures that left a lasting impression.
A particularly rare variant is the De Tomaso Pantera Topless, converted by Carrozzeria Pavesi. This open-air version, produced in extremely limited numbers, featured structural reinforcements and bespoke detailing, offering a unique blend of Italian design and American power.
The Modern Homage: Ares Design’s Panther and Pantera’s Lasting Allure
The Pantera’s legend refused to die. In fact, in recent years it has inspired a modern reinterpretation that shows just how beloved this 1970s supercar remains. In 2018, an Italian boutique firm called Ares Design (headed by former Lotus CEO Dany Bahar) unveiled the “Panther ProgettoUno,” a car explicitly modeled as a 21st-century Pantera tribute. Ares described it as “a comprehensive reimagining of the legendary 1970s Pantera”, and it stays true to the recipe: Italian design meets high-octane power. This time, the “American” V8 is swapped for a Lamborghini Huracán platform – indeed, a Huracán provides the Panther’s bones (chassis and drivetrain) – which means a screaming 5.2-liter V10 engine, cutting-edge suspension, and electronics. But Ares went to great lengths to give the car its own Pantera-esque identity. They reskinned the car in all carbon-fiber coachwork with a classic wedge shape and even engineered pop-up headlights – a retro touch and a nod to the original’s hidden lamps. The result is stunningly faithful: from certain angles, the Ares Panther looks like a modernized Pantera, complete with the low stance, curvy hips, and a roofline that instantly recalls the ’72 original. Underneath, however, it’s a modern supercar with all the reliability and performance that entails.
The ARES Panther ProgettoUno boasts a 5.2L naturally aspirated V10 pumping out 650 hp and 600 Nm of torque – far beyond anything the old 351 Cleveland could dream of. It uses a 7-speed dual-clutch transmission (with a clever retro-styled manual shifter mechanism to mimic the gated shifter feel) and all the wizardry of a contemporary Lambo. Performance is accordingly ballistic: 0–60 mph in around 3 seconds, top speed over 200 mph. In essence, it’s what the Pantera might be if it had kept evolving without pause. The production is extremely limited – Ares announced only 21 units would be built, each carrying a price tag starting around €515,000 (over $600,000). Despite that, they quickly sold out, proving that the allure of the Pantera’s concept (and perhaps the nostalgia it evokes) still commands serious attention.
This modern homage speaks volumes about the Pantera’s lasting influence. While De Tomaso’s Pantera is long out of production, its spirit lives on not just in the Ares project, but in the reverence of car enthusiasts worldwide. In 2019, the De Tomaso brand itself was resurrected by new investors, and they introduced a supercar called the P72 – a retro-styled machine inspired by 1960s race cars. Though not a Pantera reboot, the fact that the De Tomaso name still carries weight is largely thanks to the indelible mark left by the Pantera.
From an automotive history standpoint, the Pantera’s story is rich with significance. It’s a case study in international collaboration, in pushing boundaries of performance vs. price, and in the importance of character in car design. Its triumphs and tribulations make it an enduring favorite among collectors and petrolheads who appreciate that sometimes the things that are a little rough around the edges are the ones with the most soul. The Pantera had plenty of soul – a growling, prowling panther that could both delight and infuriate, but never bore you.
In the end, the De Tomaso Pantera has solidified its place in the pantheon of cool cars. It was the wild child of the 1970s supercar world – part Italian exotic, part American hot-rod, and 100% charismatic. Whether remembered for smoking its tires down Main Street, trading blows with Ferraris on the track, or even eating a couple of bullets from Elvis, the Pantera’s legend only grows with time. And with modern tributes like the Ares Panther keeping its memory alive, a new generation of enthusiasts is discovering what made this car so special.
To quote a modern reflection on the car, the De Tomaso Pantera truly is “a good-looking and affordable supercar, born in Italy and brought to life in the US” – and it’s one that still brings a smile to anyone who appreciates the rumble of a V8 in an Italian suit. Engaging, a bit humorous, yet oddly professional in its own way, the Pantera’s story is one of East meets West, speed meets style, and ambition meets audacity. Not a bad legacy for a panther on four wheels.
