History in 5 Minutes or less

Introduction: The Anatomy of a Feud

The history of motorsport is littered with great rivalries, but none possess the operatic drama, the sheer corporate spite, and the monumental scale of the battle between Ford and Ferrari in the mid-1960s. This was more than a race; it was a transatlantic conflict fought with steel, gasoline, and vengeance, spurred by one of the most spectacular boardroom insults in industrial history.

In 1963, Ford Motor Company—the ultimate American giant, built on the gospel of mass-production and assembly lines—decided it needed a shot of cool. Specifically, it needed a racing pedigree to appeal to the emerging youth market, the burgeoning Baby Boomer generation hungry for performance and speed. The quickest way to acquire that pedigree, thought the company’s powerful and imperial chairman, Henry Ford II, was to buy the existing, undisputed master of endurance racing: Ferrari.

The resulting clash between Henry Ford II, known simply as “The Deuce,” and the irascible, monkish founder of his company, Enzo Ferrari, did more than launch a racing program; it created the legendary GT40 and changed the face of motorsports forever. The subsequent effort was an uncompromising, multi-million dollar war waged for the sole purpose of humiliating one man in front of the entire world.

Part I: The Boardroom Brawl (1963)

Henry Ford II, the grandson and namesake of the company’s founder, had hauled Ford Motor Company back from the brink of bankruptcy after World War II. He was a man accustomed to getting his way. When his market analysis suggested that Ford was losing the battle for “performance image” to rivals like General Motors and their Corvette, he saw a quick fix: acquire Ferrari S.p.A.

Ferrari, under the firm hand of Il Commendatore, Enzo Ferrari, was struggling financially. Enzo’s lifelong obsession was racing—the road car division merely existed as a necessary evil, a way to fund the glamorous, bank-breaking endeavors of Scuderia Ferrari. He needed cash, and Ford had barrels of it.

Ford sent a delegation of accountants, engineers, and lawyers to Modena, Italy, in the spring of 1963. The Americans spent weeks meticulously auditing Ferrari’s books, eventually settling on a figure rumored to be around $10 million—a substantial sum at the time. The deal was essentially done, the contracts drawn up and translated, and the ink was ready to flow.

But at the eleventh hour, Enzo read the fine print.

The draft contract contained a critical clause that, while giving him control over the racing side of the operation, ultimately stipulated that all major racing budget decisions and participation approvals—specifically for events like the prestigious 24 Hours of Le Mans—would require approval from Ford’s new high-performance unit in Dearborn, Michigan.

For Enzo Ferrari, a man who viewed his racing team as an extension of his own soul, this was an unforgivable intrusion. He could not, would not, surrender the autonomy of his Scuderia. He abruptly balked.

According to various historical accounts, Enzo—renowned for his temper and sharp tongue—didn’t just politely suspend negotiations; he tore up the contract and reportedly insulted Ford II and the entire Ford Motor Company. Some accounts suggest he claimed Ford built “ugly cars” and that Henry Ford II would never measure up to his grandfather’s legacy. Whether every word is apocryphal is irrelevant; the result was real: the deal was dead, and Henry Ford II was publicly humiliated and incandescently furious.

He slammed his fist down and declared war. The edict that came back across the Atlantic was simple, absolute, and chilling: “Go to Le Mans. Build a car. And beat Ferrari.”

Part II: The Birth of the GT40 and the Baptism of Fire (1963–1965)

Ford’s response was swift and total. Within weeks of the failed deal, Ford II founded the High Performance and Special Models Operation unit with a single, brutal mission: create a racing GT capable of winning at Le Mans. The project that emerged was the Ford GT, which soon became the GT40—the number referring to the car’s astonishingly low height of 40 inches (1.02 meters), adhering to the race rules for Grand Touring prototypes.

Initially, the project was outsourced to Lola Cars in the UK, leveraging the chassis designs of Eric Broadley and putting a Ford engine inside. But getting a winning car built was one thing; winning Le Mans was another. Endurance racing is a crucible, and Ford’s first two attempts were catastrophically short-lived.

The First Humiliations

In 1964, Ford arrived at the Circuit de la Sarthe with three GT40s, armed with high hopes and even higher budgets. The result was disaster. The cars were fast—blisteringly so on the Mulsanne Straight—but they were fragile. All three retired due to gearbox failures and engine overheating. The lesson was harsh: raw speed means nothing if the car doesn’t survive 24 hours.

1965 was arguably worse. Ford had learned lessons, but the cars were still teething. Despite more rigorous testing and engineering changes, a total of six Ford entries (including those from Shelby American) failed to finish the race. Ferrari, meanwhile, cruised to its sixth consecutive Le Mans victory, cementing its dominance and turning Ford’s multi-million-dollar effort into an international joke.

Enter the Texans and the Mad Brit

Faced with two years of abject failure, The Deuce knew he had to stop throwing money at the problem and start throwing talent at it. He handed the entire GT program over to the one man who understood how to win with American ingenuity: Carroll Shelby.

Shelby, the legendary former racing driver and creator of the Shelby Cobra, was a unique blend of good ol’ boy charm, shrewd engineering insight, and raw, uncompromising aggression. His first job was to bring the program back to the U.S., specifically to his operation in Venice, California, where he could apply a hearty dose of American muscle and reliability to the fragile British chassis.

Shelby’s right-hand man and chief test driver was a fiery, brilliant, and deeply unaccommodating Englishman named Ken Miles. Miles was an engineering genius whose insights into suspension and braking were critical, but he was notoriously difficult and refused to tolerate corporate interference. He was the essential, abrasive talent the program desperately needed. Together, Shelby, Miles, and the Ford engineering team went to work.

Part III: The War Machine (1966)

The 1966 campaign was not a racing effort; it was an invasion. Henry Ford II declared it a “must-win” year and poured an estimated $25 million into the program (an astronomical sum for the era).

The key innovation was the GT40 Mark II. Shelby discarded the smaller, fragile 4.7-liter engine used in previous attempts and replaced it with a massive, NASCAR-proven, 7-liter (427 cubic inch) V8 engine. This engine was built for brute endurance, capable of chewing up the high-speed Le Mans circuit for 24 hours straight.

Ford’s strategy was not to out-design Ferrari, but to overpower them with sheer, relentless force and preparation.

The 48-Hour Engine Test

To ensure reliability, Ford implemented a revolutionary testing program. Instead of simply running the engines on a dyno for 24 hours, they created a simulated Le Mans cycle and ran the engines for 48 hours straight—twice the length of the actual race. If the engine survived that, it was considered ready. This brutal regimen ironed out every weak point, from gaskets to valves.

The Triple Crown Prelude

The team was ready. Ford fielded a massive, highly professional team, including the Shelby American unit and the robust NASCAR specialists, Holman & Moody. In preparation for Le Mans, they dominated the two other major endurance races of the year:

1. 24 Hours of Daytona: The Ford GT40 Mark IIs finished 1-2-3, decisively crushing the Ferrari challenge.
2. 12 Hours of Sebring: Ford repeated the feat with another 1-2-3 sweep. Ken Miles was a central figure, winning both races.

Miles was now poised to become the first driver in history to win the “Triple Crown” of endurance racing in a single year—Daytona, Sebring, and Le Mans.

Part IV: The 24 Hours of Vengeance

On June 18, 1966, eight factory-backed Ford GT40 Mark IIs lined up on the grid against a meager three factory Ferrari 330 P3s. Ford’s plan was simple: overwhelm the Italian opponent.

The Race Unfolds

From the start, the Fords were a steamroller. They took the early lead, setting a blistering pace that was designed to break the Ferraris. Enzo Ferrari’s P3s were elegant and nimble, but they couldn’t withstand the American onslaught. By the 10th hour, all three official factory Ferraris had retired due to mechanical failures. Ferrari was out. The race was now a matter of which Ford team would survive the final 14 hours.

The leading car was the No. 1 GT40 driven by Ken Miles and his co-driver Denny Hulme. Miles drove with precision, managing his pace and maintaining a comfortable lead over the No. 2 car of Bruce McLaren and Chris Amon. Miles was in command, leading nearly the entire duration of the race, skillfully navigating the treacherous nighttime runs and the unpredictable weather.

As the final hours ticked away, Ken Miles was ahead by four clear laps—a massive lead in endurance racing. The dream of the Triple Crown was within reach. The humiliation of 1964 and 1965 was about to be washed away in a flood of American victory.

Part V: The Bitter Taste of Victory (The Finish)

With less than an hour remaining, the Ford victory was assured. The GT40s occupied the entire podium: Miles/Hulme in first, McLaren/Amon in second, and Bucknum/Hutcherson in third (several laps behind).

This is where corporate ego, politics, and a technicality collided to create one of the most controversial finishes in motorsport history.

The PR Stunt

Ford competition chief Leo Beebe, thrilled by the imminent victory, decided that a single winner was not enough to symbolize Ford’s total, crushing dominance over Ferrari. He wanted an image that would be plastered on every newspaper in the world: three Ford GT40s crossing the finish line simultaneously in a perfect, three-wide formation. It would be a visual declaration of war won.

Ken Miles, who was leading by several laps, was ordered to slow down dramatically to allow the other two cars to catch up. Miles, furious but professional, obeyed the team orders. He waited, and soon, the three Fords were running nose-to-tail for the final circuit.

The Technicality that Cost the Crown

As the three cars approached the finish line, they lined up for the staged photo finish. However, the French race organizers, the Automobile Club de l’Ouest (ACO), informed Ford officials that a true “dead heat” was impossible under the rules of the day.

The winner of the 24 Hours of Le Mans was determined not only by who completed the most laps but, in the event of a tie in laps, by the car that had covered the greatest distance in 24 hours. Because the start of the race was staggered based on qualifying position (the traditional Le Mans running start), the No. 2 car of McLaren and Amon had started slightly further back on the grid than Miles’ No. 1 car.

To put it simply: if they crossed the line side-by-side, the No. 2 car, having started from behind, would technically have traveled a few meters further and would be declared the winner.

Ford management was fully aware of this technicality, yet they pressed ahead with the plan, seemingly prioritizing the iconic photo finish over Miles’s personal victory and the coveted Triple Crown.

As the cars crossed the line in a nearly perfect side-by-side formation, it was Bruce McLaren and Chris Amon who were officially declared the winners of the 1966 24 Hours of Le Mans. Ken Miles, who had led for the vast majority of the 24 hours and had done the lion’s share of the development work, was classified second.

It was a victory for Ford—the ultimate victory for The Deuce’s revenge—but a personal tragedy for Miles, the brilliant, unsung hero of the effort.

Conclusion: A Legacy Forged in Fire

Henry Ford II got his revenge. He beat Enzo Ferrari on his home turf, ending Ferrari’s five-year winning streak. The GT40 went on to win Le Mans for the next three consecutive years (1967, 1968, and 1969), becoming the only American-made car to ever take the overall victory at the world’s greatest endurance race.

The controversy of the 1966 finish, and the tragedy of Ken Miles’s death later that year in a testing accident, only cemented the legend. It remains a powerful story of human ambition, engineering genius, and the cold, hard reality that sometimes, the needs of a massive corporation outweigh the triumph of an individual. Ford conquered Le Mans, yes, but the cost of that photo finish lingers in the historical memory.

Sources

• Ford Motor Company Official Archives: Details on the 1963 negotiations and the formation of the GT program.
• Go Like Hell: Ford, Ferrari, and Their Battle for Speed and Glory at Le Mans (A.J. Baime): Comprehensive account of the rivalry and racing efforts.
• Ford GT40: Production and Racing History (John S. Allen): Detailed technical and race analysis of the GT40 program.
• THE EXPLOSIVE TRUTH Behind Ford’s Ken Miles Le Mans Betrayal 1966: Video analysis of the controversial finish.