Troy Queef

Sweeter than a sugar coated kitten

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troyqueefA stark and strident sunlight sears the strip steak sinews of the sordid switchbacks that spear and streak their way across the sad September salute of summer’s last smile. Firing like a bulbous bullet across this bucolic beauty a lone spot of silver draws the eye to the ball of energy moving at a lick across the landscape. What man-made metal monster would presume to peel apart the green garden of Great Britain’s inner Eastern reaches? At the risk of sounding like an ardent Australian, don’t worry; it’s Eco, Sport.

Cleave the comma from the end of that sentiment and you arrive with elegant ease at the handle of the hot baby I am helming for this all-out, balls-out pedal across the feculent flatlands that coddle around Kettering for this morning’s wheelsmith steed is none other than the Blue Oval’s B-seg class buster, the high riding family funster they call EcoSport.

When I thumbed the button to unlatch this hatch at ouch o’clock a.m. first impressions were of a quiet quality enriched by the ergonomic excellence you’d expect of a potently precise pick ‘n’ mix from the parts bin of Ford’s lower slung funkster, the fabulous Fiesta. Question is, will the EcSpo balls-up the blacktop ballet its baby brother gets so bang-on?

A saddled-up saunter at approx. eight-tenths rapidly reveals a polish and potential that invites the keen wheelwright to plunge his paws deeper into the pot. The oil-slugging engine purrs with potency, allied to a shifter that’s sweeter than a sugar coated kitten and a sassy chassis that deals with divots using a firm but fair hand and a saucy swagger like an S&M school teacher. Question is, what happens when you turn the wick up to 11? It’s time to really get helming.

All at once the ‘coSport seems to tauten its haunches and uncover its claws as if somehow sympatically sensing the powerful pedalling that is coming its way. Monstering the motor until it torques reveals a hearty heave that keeps speeds interesting while full blooded inputs to the leather wrapped helm fail to kill the composure of the dampers’ devotion to keeping an even keel over the worst of Northants’ tarmac bants. Firing in spicy to an especially testing switchback I make a laser guided lunge for the bullseye marked ‘apex’ and then slam shut the taps to see what reacts. The answer is a playful tail, slyly stepping sideways to get in on the action. I simply caught it with a dab of oppo and I was away.

The Ford EcoSport 1.5 TDCi Titanium is a bitch. And I spanked it.

Troy Queef is Executive Associate Editor-At-Large for DAB OF OPPO magazine



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