Daily Podcast: Maybe Next Time
My first car was a Ford. As was my second. And my third. They were all hand-me-down Ford Pinto station wagons. And I owned all of them in the space of one year. By the time these machines were under my care, they had around 60k teenage miles on the clock. At the risk of flattering my eventual driving skills, the transfer was a bit like giving an aspiring classical pianist Jerry Lee Lewis' old piano. But I loved my Pintos. Not just because they gave me my freedom (a.k.a. a place to smoke dope and exchange bodily fluids), but also because, well, they were cars. The thing of it is, back in the day, everyone knew what a Ford was: a cheap car. You didn't buy a Ford because you wanted to. You bought it because you had to. Don't get me wrong: there was no dishonor in that. There was working class pride involved. As you know, tempus fugited. Now that the Explorer is lost in the wilderness, I reckon the F-150 is the only Ford vehicle that keeps faith with that blue collar ethos. Even a Fusion is too… fancy. I know, I know; there have been plenty of fancy Fords. But not as many as there have been plain old Fords. Can the Blue Oval rekindle a friendship with America's economy-minded car buyers? I don't know. But as far as Ford having a feeling for the common guy's taste in cars, as a former Pinto owner, I've got one thing to say: there's another myth exploded.
More by Robert Farago