- First Name
- Cliff
- Joined
- Apr 1, 2022
- Threads
- 8
- Messages
- 97
- Reaction score
- 370
- Location
- Birmingham, AL
- Vehicle(s)
- 2022 Ford Maverick XL
- Engine
- 2.0L EcoBoost
- Thread starter
- #1
"Oh dude, a Ford Maverick! You got one!" my neighbor exclaimed. "Those things are so cool! Can I check it out?" About that time, a pizza delivery guy showed up and handed a steaming hot pie to my neighbor. "Aw, well, maybe next time then? I'm really thinking about ordering one."
I'm 32 years old. I grew up in a period of distinctively exciting automotive advancement - the "200mph" wars, if you will. I lusted after such greats as the Ferrari F40 and Porsche 959, The Lamborghini Diablo SV and the Ferrari F50, the Dodge Viper SRT10 and the Corvette C5 Z06, and yes - the unparalleled cool of the legendary McLaren F1. I played the Need for Speed games; I played Gran Turismo; I played Forza. I didn't play Test Drive (did anybody play Test Drive?). All that hype and lust for speed came to a head in 2005 with the Bugatti Veyron - the undisputed king of speed.
At the time, I didn't realize that was the end.
Not of speed, mind you - Hypercars were and still are designed and built, and they put almost unimaginable performance numbers down. No, it was the end of the excitement. The hype. The sheer thrill of competitive vehicular engineering. It's not that I wouldn't act like a kid at Christmas to take the latest and greatest by McLaren or Bugatti or Porsche or Ferrari out for a spin - I absolutely would - but the truth is that even the most ideal of locations and conditions are too restrictive for the raw power of these vehicular monstrosities. And once every manufacturer has a car that can lap the Nurbringring faster than a Kirk Hammett guitar solo, then who (besides the engineering team) really cares?
But that's when I noticed something interesting happen - and it's something I've noticed in the tech world, too. As the technology and capability of the high-end of a certain market has so far exceeded the demand of the average consumer that it no longer holds any legitimate appeal, the low-end of that market starts to rise. It's not interesting that your 1.2 million-dollar hypercar does 250 mph, 0-60 in 2.6 seconds, and holds 1.05 G's in the corner. What is interesting is when your $20,000 bread-and-butter family car raises the bar for what you should expect from that side of the market.
Enter the Ford Maverick. I've been saying for years - my first car was a 1995 Ford Ranger XLT, 4-cylinder, a 5-speed, and all the luxury features of a Fisher Price tricycle - that the market was screaming for a stripped-down, no-nonsense, DIY-weekend-warrior, genuinely little truck. The midsize truck market has long been the "entry point" into the pickup truck market, and yet many of those are still oversized bro-dozers that could fit a '95 Ranger in the bed in case of a breakdown. I was surprised when Ford announced the exact vehicle I had been complaining that we needed all along. In September of 2021, I put my money where my mouth was and ordered one.
The little blue XL turbo that arrived cost me about $23,600 before all applicable taxes and fees (and the questionable addition of "nitrogen" in the tires for a cool Benjamin). Accounting for inflation, that's just about $1,500 more than the '95 Ranger I ground my first gears on. What did that money get me? It got me a powerful motor putting out 250 horses and 277 lb-ft of twist, but got a whopping 27.9mpg on it's maiden voyage in mixed driving - measured at the pump. It got me a cavernous cabin with enough space for my family to travel in comfortably. It got me excellent road manners and surprisingly engaging driving dynamics. It got me a smaller-than-standard but still very usable and spacious bed. It got me technology that would have been a wishlist for luxury vehicles just 12 years ago (and manual mirrors, but you can't have it all, I guess).
But the Maverick is more than the sum of it's parts. Sure, it's "cool" that it can zero-to-sixty faster than a Mustang GT from 20 years ago. Sure, it's "cool" that it's a truck that will get you small-car fuel efficiency. Sure, it's "cool" that it has car-like handling and will navigate a backroad with eagerness and athleticism rather than the typical laziness of a traditional pickup. But it's also not exactly a zero-compromise vehicle - the audio system is almost shockingly low-fi, the dash has zero soundproofing, the suspension and ride is firm, and the materials - while cleverly designed to be both cheap and cheerful - definitely communicate its low price tag.
No, it's cool because it raises the bar for its market position. It's a vehicle that's actually attainable to most people with a little bit of elbow grease and financial discipline. It's a vehicle that gives people the versatility and practically they really need without sacrificing the driving characteristics and fuel efficiency they really want. Is it for everybody? Of course not! A vehicle's "practicality" can only be measured by the driver, and if that driver needs to tow a horse trailer or cart 4 small children around, the Mav just ain't it. But when literally everything in the same price bracket looks like it's not even trying when compared to the Maverick? It starts to look really, genuinely "cool."
Do you want a brand new mid-trim Elantra or a ten-year-old Tacoma? Now, you can just choose the Maverick. That's cool.
Oh, and it's a ute. Utes are cool, and anyone who says otherwise is a Baja owner with a head gasket problem.
I'm 32 years old. I grew up in a period of distinctively exciting automotive advancement - the "200mph" wars, if you will. I lusted after such greats as the Ferrari F40 and Porsche 959, The Lamborghini Diablo SV and the Ferrari F50, the Dodge Viper SRT10 and the Corvette C5 Z06, and yes - the unparalleled cool of the legendary McLaren F1. I played the Need for Speed games; I played Gran Turismo; I played Forza. I didn't play Test Drive (did anybody play Test Drive?). All that hype and lust for speed came to a head in 2005 with the Bugatti Veyron - the undisputed king of speed.
At the time, I didn't realize that was the end.
Not of speed, mind you - Hypercars were and still are designed and built, and they put almost unimaginable performance numbers down. No, it was the end of the excitement. The hype. The sheer thrill of competitive vehicular engineering. It's not that I wouldn't act like a kid at Christmas to take the latest and greatest by McLaren or Bugatti or Porsche or Ferrari out for a spin - I absolutely would - but the truth is that even the most ideal of locations and conditions are too restrictive for the raw power of these vehicular monstrosities. And once every manufacturer has a car that can lap the Nurbringring faster than a Kirk Hammett guitar solo, then who (besides the engineering team) really cares?
But that's when I noticed something interesting happen - and it's something I've noticed in the tech world, too. As the technology and capability of the high-end of a certain market has so far exceeded the demand of the average consumer that it no longer holds any legitimate appeal, the low-end of that market starts to rise. It's not interesting that your 1.2 million-dollar hypercar does 250 mph, 0-60 in 2.6 seconds, and holds 1.05 G's in the corner. What is interesting is when your $20,000 bread-and-butter family car raises the bar for what you should expect from that side of the market.
Enter the Ford Maverick. I've been saying for years - my first car was a 1995 Ford Ranger XLT, 4-cylinder, a 5-speed, and all the luxury features of a Fisher Price tricycle - that the market was screaming for a stripped-down, no-nonsense, DIY-weekend-warrior, genuinely little truck. The midsize truck market has long been the "entry point" into the pickup truck market, and yet many of those are still oversized bro-dozers that could fit a '95 Ranger in the bed in case of a breakdown. I was surprised when Ford announced the exact vehicle I had been complaining that we needed all along. In September of 2021, I put my money where my mouth was and ordered one.
The little blue XL turbo that arrived cost me about $23,600 before all applicable taxes and fees (and the questionable addition of "nitrogen" in the tires for a cool Benjamin). Accounting for inflation, that's just about $1,500 more than the '95 Ranger I ground my first gears on. What did that money get me? It got me a powerful motor putting out 250 horses and 277 lb-ft of twist, but got a whopping 27.9mpg on it's maiden voyage in mixed driving - measured at the pump. It got me a cavernous cabin with enough space for my family to travel in comfortably. It got me excellent road manners and surprisingly engaging driving dynamics. It got me a smaller-than-standard but still very usable and spacious bed. It got me technology that would have been a wishlist for luxury vehicles just 12 years ago (and manual mirrors, but you can't have it all, I guess).
But the Maverick is more than the sum of it's parts. Sure, it's "cool" that it can zero-to-sixty faster than a Mustang GT from 20 years ago. Sure, it's "cool" that it's a truck that will get you small-car fuel efficiency. Sure, it's "cool" that it has car-like handling and will navigate a backroad with eagerness and athleticism rather than the typical laziness of a traditional pickup. But it's also not exactly a zero-compromise vehicle - the audio system is almost shockingly low-fi, the dash has zero soundproofing, the suspension and ride is firm, and the materials - while cleverly designed to be both cheap and cheerful - definitely communicate its low price tag.
No, it's cool because it raises the bar for its market position. It's a vehicle that's actually attainable to most people with a little bit of elbow grease and financial discipline. It's a vehicle that gives people the versatility and practically they really need without sacrificing the driving characteristics and fuel efficiency they really want. Is it for everybody? Of course not! A vehicle's "practicality" can only be measured by the driver, and if that driver needs to tow a horse trailer or cart 4 small children around, the Mav just ain't it. But when literally everything in the same price bracket looks like it's not even trying when compared to the Maverick? It starts to look really, genuinely "cool."
Do you want a brand new mid-trim Elantra or a ten-year-old Tacoma? Now, you can just choose the Maverick. That's cool.
Oh, and it's a ute. Utes are cool, and anyone who says otherwise is a Baja owner with a head gasket problem.
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