James Curtis Features editor Marketing

James Curtis

Features editor


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.