Your first impression of this 1959 Ford Thames 300E might be that someone left a panel wagon in the dryer a bit too long.
Indeed, Ford — especially during the 1950s — wasn’t well-known for its tiny cars. But across the pond, folks drove these pint-size vans for years. For years, Ford’s European offerings were — and still are — significantly smaller than many of its American-market vehicles.
The Thames was the car-based delivery van version of the Anglia/Prefect saloon cars, with an 1,100-cc four making a laughable 36 horsepower. Ford briefly sold a few of these vehicles Stateside, but they predictably never caught on with American buyers.
This Thames has been with owner Mark Daneska since the 1970s when he was in high school. On a random drive when he was a teen, he caught a look at a Thames and actually chased the driver down to find out what he saw. The driver let him know where two others could be found.
The pair of wagons he found were nothing more than bodies, and both had been rolled and had significant damage. He paid $20 for the least-damaged wagon and brought it home to work on.
In those days, van customization was all the rage, with shag carpeting, disco balls and elaborate murals covering the slab sides of Dodge, Chevy and Ford full-size vans. Daneska had the idea to turn it into a miniature custom van. Daneska didn’t yet have car-restoration skills, so he had to learn as he went along.
“All I had was an arc welder and side grinder,” he said.
The guts for the Thames came from another European Ford, his mother’s 1960 Escort. That version of the Escort was mechanically identical to the Thames, and many of the body panels were interchangeable.
The engine and transmission came from a 1974 Pinto a friend had wrecked. It was the 2.3-liter OHC four that powered countless vehicles for years and came to him with only 30,000 miles.
Before long, he parked it when life — college, career, children, etc. — took over. It sat in a damp garage for 35 years until Daneska decided it was finally time to haul it out of mothballs.
Two years ago, he began work on it again, this time with the intent of giving it a bit of a rat-rod feel.
“It’s the way it had to be,” he said.
He was worried it would be full of problems from the dampness, but to his relief everything was well-preserved. He redid everything he did wrong, especially the metalwork. In the spirit of the rat rod, he left many of the welding beads visible from where he grafted panels into the body. He capped everything off with a matte-black finish. There were a few subtle touches that set the car apart, like piston-shaped bolts on the air cleaner, a skull shifter sits between the seats.
Fortunately, th
e years were kind to the Pinto four, and all he had to do was dress up the engine bay a bit and do a few minor things. He backed the 2.3 with — of all things — the five-speed manual from a Merkur, a long defunct Ford brand sold in the late 1980s.
Daneska’s not shy about driving it — he’ll even take it to work a couple of times a week. It’s happy at 50 mph, but 70 is about all she’ll do with the current gearing. He’s looking to swap the rear end eventually for something with taller gearing. Still, he said the Thames drives straight and better than he thought it would.
“It’s a blast,” he said.
The Motor Mouth 