Milan is the fashion capital of Italy. Step off the tourist trail and it’s a combination of industrial parks and urban sprawl with only slightly more charm than Trenton, New Jersey. Still, you have got to give Ford’s beleaguered near-luxury division credit for naming their hecho-en-Mexico Fusion derivative after the home of Alfa Romeo, rather than resorting to the alphanumerics afflicting Lincoln’s take on the same model. But the question remains: is Mercury’s glammed-up Fusion a credible fashionista or an industrial waste?
My parents' first new car was a 1970 Montego coupe. They liked it so much they added a Montego sedan to the ranks-- just in time to transport this nascent pistonhead home from the hospital. They no longer own a Montego. And soon, no one else will either. At least not a new one. Ford is about to rebadge the current Montego (a gussied-up Ford Five Hundred) a Sable; just as they’re about to rebadge the Five Hundred (the Taurus’ replacement) a Taurus. Which leaves everyone exactly where they started. I think. Let’s take a look.
During a business trip to Canada, my manager and I watched a Swedish colleague use his cell phone to hold a three-way conference call with Tel Aviv and Hong Kong. The boss was infuriated; his US cell couldn’t even reach Toronto from Toronto. He called Sprint on a land line. "This is unacceptable,” he screamed. “It’s un-American to sell technology that’s seven years behind the Europeans!" The exact same thing’s been said about Detroit’s inability to counter fuel-sipping low-emission hybrids. Enter, finally, the Mercury Mariner Hybrid. Ah, but is the gas/electric Merc ready for prime time or is it just a Johnny-come-lately phoning it in?
Way forward. Bold Moves. Screw that. If America wants a bold, innovative car, they'll buy a Toyota. If they want something honest, inexpensive and comfortable, they'll buy a Ford. If they want an honest car with added spizzarkle, they'll spend a little more for a Mercury. Well, that's how it used to be, until Ford started building sub-par Japanese wanna-be's. Thankfully, the Blue Oval offers at least one rear-wheel drive automobile that stays true to the company's roots: the Mercury Grand Marquis.
Park the Grand Marquis next to its foreign counterparts and it's clear that the American luxobarge ain't livin' large no mo'. Snout-to-tail comparisons with a Camry require measurements smaller than a foot; millimeters differentiate their relative heights. Fortunately, the Marquis' ping-pong table hood and aircraft-carrier rear deck survive into the new millennium, while its broad shoulders continue to evoke memories of Officer Badass. Although the Marquis' police-a-like shape sends shivers down the spines of Boy Racers, the car's basic design is wildly inoffensive. This despite a new-for-'06 schnoz that blends-in about as well as a Speedo-wearing fat guy in Sports Illustrated's swimsuit issue.