Tim Blair

FORD ESCAPE LIMITED

This review first appeared in the Sunday Telegraph:

In 1955, the Ford Motor Company hired poet Marianne Moore to come up with a name for its latest model*. Moore supplied 6,000 suggestions ... and every single one of them was rejected by alarmed executives. They didn’t believe that American motorists would be willing to buy something called Mongoose Civique or Pastelogram or Silver Sword or Resilient Bullet; also knocked back were The Intelligent Whale, Magigravure, and Turcotinga. Even Utopian Turtletop failed to impress the suits.

If only Marianne were still with us. She might be able to provide a name for the Ford Escape that would lend this mid-size 4WD what it most needs: some distinctiveness and character.

Let’s run through the list of good things about the Escape (and there are quite a few):

The 3.0 litre V6 (standard equipment in the top-of-the-range Limited version tested) is zesty and mostly smooth, although possibly a little wanting for thrust at low revs. Steering is perfectly geared for urban dodgem driving; roundabouts, carparks, and the like. Other primary controls -- brakes, automatic gearshift -- are impressively light, as are secondary controls like doorhandles and rear folding seat. It’s plenty roomy, for people and luggage. Handling is sound. Ride is friendly, as you’d expect from a car-based, all-independently suspended vehicle.

Now, the bad things (and you’ll note that most on this list are minor complaints):

The Escape isn’t really a four-wheel-drive. It’s a front-driver with four-wheel-drive that kicks in when conditions demand. The rest of the time you’ve got 200 horsepower mainly being delivered through the front wheels, which transmit an irritating amount of torque steer back to the driver. Fuel economy isn’t great (11.6 litres per 100 km during speed-cautious highway driving) and is compounded by a small fuel tank. Brakes pull up sharpish enough, but in 2004 it’s wrong to pay more than $30,000 for something equipped with drum rears. The Limited’s leather seats are of the gripless variety; unless you drive bolt upright (hello, bowling ladies!) you’ll find yourself sliding down, down, down towards the pedals during long drives. Remember column shifts? The Escape has one, which in itself isn’t bad, but it’s placed so as to interfere with easy use of the radio/CD player (also, the steering wheel’s large centre often obscures the dashboard gear display; three-point turns involve a lot of neck-craning to work out whether you’re in R or D or N). Big tyres contribute to more road noise than you’d anticipate.

Those are the good and bad things. Trouble is with the Escape is, it mostly falls into a bland “middle” area. Start with the styling. In a market sector now producing some playful and innovative designs, the Escape stands out as a non-stand out. It’s the sort of car that would ideal for anyone in a witness relocation program. Interior-wise, you’re looking at a generic ‘90s layout. Technically ... well, the engine is loaded with a bunch of valves and camshafts, but the rest of the Escape is just your standard point A to point B human transportation module.

Even the name is middling and ambivalent. Do you want to escape in your new Ford, or escape from it? Far better to imagine yourself aboard a stunning Turcotinga or Resilient Bullet than in this unadventurous machine.

*The safety-first name Ford eventually chose, Edsel, didn’t work. In fact, sales were so poor the company lost nearly quarter of a billion dollars and came close to collapse.

Posted by Tim Blair at May 10, 2004 05:06 PM