Before I write another word, let’s get one thing straight: the Saleen S331 Supercharged Sport Truck is a RIDICULOUS MACHINE. Climbing into its cab is like boarding the Space Shuttle. The S331’s engine fires-up with all the subtlety of the shuttle’s SRB’s. After the small voice in your head counts down to zero, the truck launches with all the fury of… Well, I’m getting a bit ahead of myself here. Suffice it to say, you don’t have to be a Three Stooges Fan to know that something completely ridiculous can also make you laugh with delight.

In an era where Explorers are MIA and Expeditions can't make it out of base camp, Ford's cute ute is a mission-critical machine. If Ford's going to Escape its financial woes, their compact SUV has to at least keep the lights on. To find out if the new Ford Escape is "the end to boredom" (as the website proclaims) or simply "the end of the line," I ran America's most popular softroader up the Adirondacks, down the interstate, into Manhattan traffic and ‘round the ‘burbs.

Eight years ago, when giant SUV's roamed this fair country virtually unchallenged, The Blue Oval slipped the Ford Focus into the American market. Now that gas prices have U.S. consumers thinking small, you'd think that FoMoCo would be battling Fits, Versas and Yari with an updated version of their Eurobox. Nope. As far as Ford’s engineers and PR department are concerned, the Focus has fallen off the face of the earth. Which might just work in your favor.

The Ford F150 is America’s best selling vehicle. The domestically produced full-size pickup truck is generally recognized as the class of the field. Unfortunately, nothing else Ford sells stateside achieves that standard– and Ford’s “showroom of the future” offers little hope. No wonder the company’s camp followers have turned their gaze upon FoMoCo’s European operations, where the S-Max people mover won the coveted Car of the Year award. Should The Blue Oval Boyz switch on their tractor beam?  

Ford seems determined to make sure each member of the Village People has a personalized ride. And why not? The cowboy and the leather-daddy already have their own trucks (the King Ranch and the Harley Davidson, respectively). I'm just having trouble deciding if the F250 Outlaw is aimed at the construction worker or the cop. No matter really, as there is plenty of room inside for both of those fabulous men and all their haute couture.

The recipe for the original Ford Mustang was simple enough: a low price car with a trim, athletic body wearing the same sort of sexy, svelte sheetmetal of a contemporaneous European sports coupe. If you park a ’07 Ford Mustang GT next to its 1960’s counterpart, it’s clear that Ford missed the point by over two hundred pounds. But don't think of this retro-mobile as just another FoMoCo bloated barge; it's slim by Gran Torino standards. Think of the Mustang GT as a portly pastiche of pony cars past, present and yes, future.

Whenever I show up at my weekly poker game, the boys (being boys) are always interested in what I'm driving. How much? How fast? Not this week. This week, all my friends piled into the driveway and laughed. Can you blame them? Ford's new Expedition EL is so large I had to park it diagonally to keep its butt off the street. The wheels come up to my thigh. One 6'5" friend couldn't see the roof. Remember King Kong Bundy? He now wears dubs.

A small bump in the road traversed at the slightest discernible angle on dry pavement at 50mph will send the Shelby GT500’s rear end sideways with enough violence to engage the traction control. If you don't care, God bless you. I fully understand and appreciate your perspective: muscle cars are about power, not finesse. Finesse is for people who aren’t willing to risk their childrens' future to experience a few moments of high horsepower hoonery. Fine. But include me out.

You know that bumper sticker “He who dies with the most toys wins?” While it might be perfectly at home affixed to the bumper of a BMW M6 or a Lamborghini Gallardo, such a wholesome piece of braggadocio would be hopelessly out of place stuck to the bumper of the thuggish Shelby GT500. A more appropriate piece of signage might be, “My muscle car can beat up your supercar.” If we are being honest, the sticker would read “I did your Mamma and she liked it.” 

There are two kinds of pistonheads: enthusiasts who experience wide-eyed, pie-in-the-sky desire for anything loudish, reddish and fast(ish); and buyers who worship at the altar of Consumer Reports, kbb and truedelta.com. If you are in my camp, words and phrases like reliability, APR, depreciation and total cost of ownership fog your mind faster than low down southern whiskey. Unfortunately, I am not rich. I am money-dumb and hoping to marry well. Meanwhile, I’ve found a vehicle capable of satisfying both the childish and the cheap.

The Chicago Mercantile Exchange just announced that it is merging with the Chicago Board of Trade Company to create a “juggernaught” in the world derivatives market. These markets allow farmers to hedge their bets, insuring their crop at a given price for a future harvest. Automakers have no such luck. They pour billions of dollars into developing a product and gamble that it will succeed in the market place. Recent Death Watchee Ford has made such a gamble with its new crossover vehicle, the Edge. Some say it must sell, or FoMoCo will bust out. Ford’s betting the proverbial farm on red. But is the Edge a sure thing?

The new Shelby GT-H is not only one of the world’s most desirable cars, it’s also one of the rarest. Not rare in the Pagani Zonda F sense of the word (i.e. only the five wealthiest Kings of Europe can afford one). Rare because Ford’s limited total production to six hundred units, Hertz gets all of them, and at LAX at least, the GT-H is booked through October. Thanks to a manufacturer-sponsored press event (disclaimer done) your intrepid TTAC reviewer managed to get his mitts on the “Hertz rent-a-racer.” I don’t think I’m giving anything away to say that pistonheads’ wives can consider their husbands’ birthday present sorted.

On my way to breakfast in the F-150 King Ranch, a box fresh Rolls-Royce Phantom cut me off. The similarities between the two vehicles are striking. Both are enormous rigs; BMW’s high-end Roller is one of the few vehicles on the road not dwarfed by Ford’s biggest ever F-150. Both machines are gas-guzzlers sold on image and luxury. Sure the prices are several hundred T-bills apart and the Ford’s a lot less dirt aversive, but the most important difference is that the Roller is an aristocrat by birth. The F150 King Ranch is Horatio Alger on wheels, an affordable icon. Or is it?

In his own ew-inducing sort of way, Oedipus defined the Tragic Hero. His story teaches us that character is fate; the arrogant King can no more escape his destiny than a bad guy on a cop show. And so it is with the Ford Taurus, a vehicle named for either the constellation of the same name (minus the Ford) or the Zodiac sign ascribed to it. According to pseudo- science, Taureans are practical, reliable, patient, affectionate, competent, ambitious, determined, lazy, jealous, inflexible, greedy and stubborn. And some people wonder why the model took twenty years to die an ignominious death…

My local falafel joint has the world's smallest parking lot: just three spaces. The other day, I pulled in for supper and parked my sore-thumb standout Grabber Orange Mustang GT Convertible next to a Toyota Prius. The Prius owner was seated on the patio, munching his shawarma. The disparity between our two rides could hardly have been more stark. His: a futuristic, planet-saving, spaceship-looking personal statement.  Mine: a retro-tastic, oil-burning, bright orange throw-back drop-top. Sure, Prius person only has to visit the gas station once a week to my thrice, but c’mon, it was no contest. Unless you’re an accountant, the right brain wins every time.