Ford’s new F-150 fears no evil as, yea, it drives through the Valley of Death
The “Racetrack” is a dry lake bed where rocks mysteriously meander about on their own, leaving trails in the playa as if they were stony snails. It is 27 miles into the park’s sun-scarred backcountry, down a wheel-bending, neck-wrenching gravel road that every year strands a dozen or so cosmic sojourners in their Volkswagen Eurovans and Volvo wagons, leaving them to mystically contemplate the taste of radiator water.
This road is ugly. Coyote ugly.
As such, it offered an excellent opportunity for me to conduct failure-mode analysis of Ford’s redesigned-for-2004 F-150, the bestselling vehicle in America (782,376 in model year 2003) and the one working bilge pump bailing out Ford Motor Co.’s very leaky boat.
The question: How tough is Ford’s new suave and civilized truck? Is it, as they say in Texas, all hat and no cattle?
Much of the F-150’s redesign has been focused on creating a more mannerly mien, reflecting the increasing percentage of “personal-use” pickup buyers -- in a word, yuppies.
Suburban cowboys will appreciate the sophisticated, Explorer-like exterior styling, though the F-150 hasn’t a trace of the bruised-knuckle machismo of the Dodge Ram or the new Nissan Titan.
Likewise, the F-150’s enlarged interior, particularly in upscale Lariat trim, is sunny and futuristic, swank and design- intensive. A satiny, aluminum-like finish is applied to the steering-wheel-mounted switches and spokes, the instrument bezels and the vertical panels flanking the dash, while buttery soft, sumptuous leather provides a fetching contrast.
The only exception to this festival of good taste is the cheap wood grain used on the central console. Who knew they still made peel-and-stick, roach- repellent drawer lining?
Perhaps most distinctive is a big chrome shifter sticking out of a floor-mounted console. Base models continue to observe the pickup tradition of a column shifter, whereas the FX4 and Lariat models get the captain’s chairs with the floor shifter. With its power rear sliding glass, DVD player and French-stitched leather upholstery, the Lariat F-150 has country club cattleman written all over it. The well-optioned two-wheel-drive F-150 Lariat I drove had a sticker price of $36,175.
In the truck biz, numbers count. The 5.4-liter, 24-valve, single-overhead-cam V-8 puts 300 horses in harness, giving the F-150, with its 365 pound-feet of torque, bragging rights for highest towing capacity (9,500 pounds) in the full-size, half-ton pickup category. It also, however, is the heaviest truck in its class, weighing in at more than 5,300 pounds.
On the road, this extra weight manifests itself as feet of clay. The F-150 bolts from the gate quick enough, with zero-to-60-mph times in the mid-8 seconds. But it struggles to accelerate at highway and passing speeds and seems a little clamorous and fretful. It also is speed limited at 99 mph -- or so they tell me. Although the EPA mileage rating is 15/19 miles per gallon city/highway, at the speeds common in the empty desert, the F-150 makes short work of its 30-gallon fuel supply.
The ride is surprisingly supple and well tempered, so the worst of Death Valley’s patchwork asphalt gets trammeled underfoot without much noise or cabin shivers. Heading north from Furnace Creek to Ubehebe Crater, the road plunges through deep “vados,” woop-de-dos that at high speed will plunge the truck down to its bump stops and then unload the suspension like a pogo stick. The F-150 coasts through these effortlessly and with a minimum of levitation as the well-tuned springs and dampers dissipate the vertical body movement.
The F-150’s new chassis comprises super-stiff, hydroformed steel frame rails, fully boxed members traversing the ladder frame and heavy-duty bushings and isolating mounts for the steering rack, engine and transmission. The whole truck has a girder-rigid, over-engineered feel to it.
This seismic retrofitting is instantly noticeable when my son, Wally, and I start down the trail from Ubehebe Crater to the Racetrack. The truck’s suspension pumps furiously to keep up with the washboard rutting. We porpoise down the trail, the shoulder belts snatching at our chests to keep us in place and our camping gear hovering in mid-bounce in the rear compartment.
The truck bottoms out -- WHAM! -- and swivels ominously as it catches air, scuffing the bulldozed berms that mark the road. Stones scour the truck’s underside, which does not have a skid plate on it. We catch more air. Boulders and cactus squeeze the sides of the rip-rap trail. The dust cloud behind us could screen a carrier escort group.
OK. I admit it. My job is fun.
In the midst of this beating, the F-150 utters not a squeak or a rattle. The steering column is stable and secure. Even so, we are getting hammered, because the washboard’s frequency -- caused by vehicle traffic -- is tuned, so to speak, to the average speed of those vehicles. The only way to minimize the eye- rattling vibration is to go faster. Wally looks deeply skeptical.
One hour and one bit lip later, we arrive at the Racetrack. The F-150 is as white as a powdered doughnut, and Wally is a tad pale too. I roll down all the windows. Everything tracks straight and true. I check the hoses and undercarriage. Apart from a wadded up tumbleweed stuck between the frame rails, all is in order. The only glitch is a glove box door that refuses to stay shut.
Conclusion: Despite its city slicker surfaces, the new F-150 is nobody’s prissy parade float. In fact, the truck’s best qualities are hidden at the extremes of endurance, where few of its new-gentry buyers are likely to go.
If you are interested, I can send you a map.
