As a previous-gen Mercedes-Benz S-Class barreled past on southbound Highway 395 along California's Sierra Nevada, I couldn’t help but feel a little pity for the driver. Gazing down from the lofty perch of my pickup, all I could think was, "Poor schlub. He doesn’t know what he’s missing . . ."
If you've read colleague Ed "The Lohdown" Loh's recent blog, you know that last week a squad of us trekked to Mammoth Mountain for several days of wringing-out luxury SUVs in the snow. (You think that's a tough gig? Hey, one of our staff grunts had to stay home in sunny LA to rack up some miles on a new Lamborghini.) Ed will soon share all the SUV-comparison results (and the usual hilarity -- including yet another save by our pals at the California Highway Patrol). But for me, the vehicular highlight of the week was my enlightening, 300-mile drive home in the comparo's photo/support vehicle, our new long-term Ford F-150 4x4 Supercrew Lariat Styleside.
You read that right: I'm all geeked-up over a pickup. Sure, I've been well aware of this truck's appeal for months now, having been part of the team that last fall selected the F-150 as winner of our hotly contested 2009 Motor Trend Truck of the Year competition. Yet there's nothing like a road trip -- particularly a multi-hour solo journey -- to get a good steep in a vehicle's character (sometimes that's a good thing, other times all you notice are flaws). This drive was the former: By the time the F-150 and I arrived back in Los Angeles, I was ready to hand it another trophy.
As I rolled out of Mammoth Lakes, a hard-falling snow/rain mixture was loading the streets with thick, slippery mush. A quick turn of the Lariat's four-wheel-drive knob, and I was cruising comfortably in 4WD high range (I also had 4WD low on tap in case, say, I decided to drive over the Chart House restaurant on my way out of town). Conditions like this are what the F-150 4x4's traction and ground clearance are made for; I watched a hapless driver in a 5-Series make two failed attempts to climb a steep driveway -- then he simply abandoned the BMW at the bottom and walked up to his house in the icy downpour. Not very luxurious.
By the time I neared Bishop, nearly 4000 feet lower in altitude, the precip had ebbed to a light drizzle; another quick twist of the transfer-case control and I was back in 2WD again. Such effortless torque management is hardly unique to the F-150, of course, but what stands out about the Ford is how it combines such prowess and utility with the character and comfort of a premium luxury sedan. This truck is like . . . well, imagine Cary Grant in a pair of work overalls.
For instance . . . I don't think I've ever been inside a more handsome and pampering pickup. The Supercrew cabin has the roomy feel of a circus tent. Rear-seat passengers have space to stretch out their legs, and with the rear seats folded up there's enough cabin volume to store . . . a Shetland pony would probably fit if you could lure it aboard. During our SUV comparo we filled the rear cabin with luggage, a boxed six-foot camera rig, several four-foot-square photo-reflector boards, and more. Inside the exterior pickup bed we also stowed a ladder, more rig rods, and our emergency gear (conveniently, the F-150's first driver didn't show up in Mammoth until long after we'd buried our first SUV up to its floorpan in two feet of unexpectedly soft snow -- hence our rendezvous with the CHP).
Naturally, you expect a workhouse like the F-150 to tackle tough conditions without a shrug. But I wasn't prepared for the excellence of its driving manners. Comfort is simply superb; I'd have been happy to drive this rig cross-country. Power-adjustable pedals enabled me to scooch the seat up where I wanted it, then back the pedals away until they were perfectly tailored for my legs. The beefy leather seats have heaters and chillers (the better to help you keep your cool should Al Gore ever fly in to lecture you on the size of your vehicle). Visibility is quite good all around, aided by secondary outside mirrors that all but eliminate any blind spots -- plus an excellent rear-view camera that makes backing-up a breeze.
The flight deck is downright gorgeous, as if Audi had designed its first pickup. Handsome soft-touch materials, clear gauges, smartly arranged controls, just the right amount of brushed-look accents . . . I'll dare to say it: You could call the Lariat's cockpit "glamorous" without making Vogue magazine's Anna Wintour clasp her hand over her mouth in horror.
Of particular note is the available Sync system, which combines GPS navigation and multimedia playback into one sleek, voice-activated unit. By simply plugging my iPhone's USB cord into the in-dash USB port, I had easy, remote-controlled access to all the MP3s stored aboard it (for making hands-free calls, the phone also locked into the onboard Bluetooth system). Switching from, say, iPhone MP3 playback to FM radio was as easy as pushing a button on the steering wheel and issuing a voice command. Sync is smarter than many similar voice-activated systems, almost always understanding your words on the first try.
Okay, so dressing up the cabin and adding some deftly done electronics are all well and good, but it's hardly miraculous engineering. In some ways, though, the F-150's driving dynamics are just that. As I was cruising down 395, it suddenly occurred to me that something was amiss. I could not hear the big, 310-horse 5.4-liter V-8 up front. Given that I was currently playing Van Halen's "Unchained" at about 7.9 on the Richter Scale, this was not surprising. I turned the volume knob to zero. Hmmmm, still nothing from under the hood. Clearly, my ears had become plugged during my long descent from Mammoth Mountain to the Mojave Desert. I pinched my nose and performed the Valsava maneuver, equalizing my Eustachian tubes. Hmmmm . . . a little rumble from the tires, but nothing from the engine. Last resort: I checked the speedometer. Yep, 75 mph; I was still moving forward at a good rate, so the engine was definitely running. My ears couldn't tell, though.
Equally remarkable is the F-150's ride. It's fluid, poised . . . almost cushy. Yes, this is a rig that, in 145-inch-wheelbase form, can transport 1560 pounds of cargo and, with the available 3.73 rear axle, tow up to 11,200 pounds. Yet the thing rides like a Benz. Blindfold your passengers before they board, and they'd never guess "pickup" by the F-150's manners.
Another, perhaps less-conspicuous virtue: With its 36-gallon fuel tank (and EPA city/highway ratings of 14/18 mpg), the F-150 has a cruising range of more than 600 miles. For me, somehow blessed with the constitution of a camel, this is a major plus indeed. During my roughly five-hour drive back to LA, I stopped only long enough to take the photos you see here.
Though you can pick up (sorry) an F-150 for as little as $22,070, if you want to travel as well as I was your tab will climb to $46,135. After my illuminating drive, I'd say that's a fair trade of Benjamins. I mean, name me another rig that'll make you feel so spoiled and majestic when you're driving with a 1000-pound load of manure.
iPhone photos by the author