First impressions are everything, a fact that’s especially true
when it comes to automobiles. One just has to think about the
Pontiac Aztek or Ford Edsel as two blatant examples of what
happens when bad design hits the showrooms. Once you muck up the
first glance, it’s over. Design, however, requires risk. Being
too tame—à la Ford Five Hundred or the second-generation
Oldsmobile Aurora—fails to generate any emotional connection,
which is just as bad as making a bad first impression. It’s
finding the proper balance of risk and appeal that’s key to the
success of any car or truck.
When it came time for Ford to commit to the quirky design of the
Flex crossover—more boxy and upright than the rest of the Ford
family—it created huge controversy within the automaker’s
executive ranks. Some, probably those behind the design if the
Ford Freestar and Mercury Monterey minivans, thought it stood out
too much from everything else, while others said the unique
design was exactly what Ford needed to inject new thinking inside
the company. The latter crowd won out, but did they make the
right decision?
The first time I set eyes on the production version of the Flex
was outside the doors of the Bellagio Hotel in Las Vegas, where
Ford was holding a dealer meeting. It was a great opportunity to
watch the public’s reaction to the design: “Is that the new Mini
Clubman?” one woman asked. “Who makes this car? Ford? Wow!” said
another. In all, it seemed pretty positive.
A few months later, while spending a week with the Flex, the
reaction from onlookers was, well, mixed. “Oh my God, you have
the Flex! I have to sit in it,” one of my neighbors gushed.
During a trip to the mall with my mother and my aunt, they tried
to remember what vehicle the Flex reminded them of: “Now I know
what this car looks like – your dad’s old Rambler wagon,” said my
aunt. “You’re right!,” said my mom, “although I thought it looks
more like an old bread truck.” Uh-oh!
Give Ford credit for taking a risk with the Flex design. Doing
another me-too crossover that looks like a modified Explorer
would have been a predictable solution; too lame. The boxy design
of the Flex helps to disguise its hugeness—it’s 8.7 in. longer
than the Honda Pilot and nearly 8 in. longer than the
Explorer—while projecting a cute, yet masculine appearance. The
interior, however, is anything but boxy; the instrument panel
looks like it would be at home in a luxury car, much less a
family hauler. Innovative features like a built in refrigerator
(a $760 option) and vista roof with cutouts above each of the
three rows of seats make the interior more inviting—although
something has to be done about the design of the front seat
headrests. Designed to meet the latest government standards in
the least expensive way possible, they sit annoyingly close to
the back of one’s head and cause taller drivers to sit with their
head tilted forward. Ouch!
Flex may not look as big as it is, but it sure drives like it.
Here’s where the evidence shows that this is not much more than a
pretty face. While it felt fine during around town maneuvers,
during more aggressive driving the Flex suffered from pronounced
understeer, and the 262 hp 3.5 liter V-6 seemed taxed to its
limits. Steering feedback is minimal and more akin to what you’d
expect from an Explorer-sized SUV. Another pitfall is the abysmal
fuel economy—16 mpg city and 22 mpg highway for the all-wheel
drive model—that resulted in worse numbers than on a comparable
drive in an ‘08 Dodge Ram pickup with a Hemi V8. That’s
unacceptable in this day and age, and more of what you’d expect
from Dad’s old Rambler wagon or a bread truck.
It’s a shame because the Flex is a capable, good looking
alternative for those who are looking to abandon the minivan set
for something hipper. Too bad it doesn’t help the family budget
when it comes to fuel economy nor does it live up to the
fun-to-drive demeanor of its skin.
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