If cars are an extension of the driver’s, er, personality, then there
must be a lot of very mixed up executives cruising Britain’s roads.
For the successful, ambitious, thrusting executive there can be no car
less suited to his suit than the Ford Scorpio. Driving a milk float
would score more cred points in a traffic jam.
In a way, Ford should be praised for being bold with its Granada
replacement. A precedent for mould-breaking design was set with the
Sierra, and Ford did not shy away from daring to be different with the
Achieving road presence is everything in this market and getting noticed
for the sake of the car, rather than the badge, sets it apart from the
BMWs and Mercs.
The bug-eyed front, 50s throwback rear and boxy-yet-curvy shape
certainly get it noticed, but probably for the wrong reasons.
The front, with its stupid grin and dopey eyes, is hardly an imposing
sight in the rear view mirror. It looks as though Ford had a crack at
doing that Japanese thing of ensuring every car has a face - the
trouble with this one is that it looks like a wide-mouthed frog.
The back, with its low-slung wrap-around lights, abundant chrome and
boot, looks like everything cars have moved away from since the
introduction of...hang on a minute...the Sierra.
Again, that is something to be applauded. What Ford has tried to do here
is to introduce personality and quirkiness into a market where
everything looks the same. At least it is making a design statement, and
making cynical hacks like myself think about it.
One theory is that it is trying to introduce a less dominating, softer
and more sensitive image to the executive car market.
That makes the Scorpio the new-man of the car world. It should come with
a range of specially knitted chunky sweaters, be good with children and
not be afraid to cry when the M25 seizes up at Reigate.