Long-Term Road Test
The best way to get a mouthful of knuckle sandwich around Detroit is to call someone's new car a wagon. It's a major dirty word in the halls of the Motor City, a slur that in five letters can boil the blood of an industry executive faster than any sentence beginning with the five words, "Your mama is so fat . . ."
How did the humble station wagon become such a pariah? Easy. Legions of buyers have long acted as though station wagons come lined with tarantulas. Out of fear they may be mistaken for the Cleaver clan, the disciples of groove currently shun almost any five-door vehicle that doesn't have a ton of superfluous weight, way too many inches of ground clearance, and adverts more likely to raise sales of mountain bikes and kayaks. That has forced automakers who think the Next Big Thing may just be smaller SUV-like wagons to develop all kinds of preposterous euphemisms for the "w" word. Our favorite, courtesy of the Pontiac Vibe team, is "high-function five-door."
Well, at least the Ford folks are honest. The Focus wagon is nothing but. It's a genuine car with a glass-enclosed patio of 38 cubic feet, 25 more than in the trunk of the Focus sedan and 19 more than the cargo area of the hatchback Focus. Besides this generous cavity, the handsome Focus wagon is virtually identical to its fellow Foci, making it a good candidate for our 40,000-mile crucible of long-term testing.
Spacious enough both for family expeditions and spot-hauling duties, our $17,790 Autumn Orange Metallic Focus SE wagon offered the flexibility to prove out Ford's impressive new small-car line (a two-time 10Best winner) and bring along a supply of friends, family, or personal property.
It was a duty never shirked by the faithful Focus wagon, which is just a $15,940 proposition without our test car's options. They included ABS ($400), the Comfort Group package (cruise, map lights, tilt wheel, and arm rest, for $395), front-seat side-impact airbags ($350), power windows ($295), the DOHC 130-hp Zetec engine ($200), a CD player ($140), floor mats ($55), and the Smoker's package ($15).
For such slim sums, the car remained exceptionally reliable during the 40,000 miles, even as some more expensive long-term lot mates gracelessly unraveled from the same treatment. For once, Ford can be justly proud of the people who designed and screwed together one of its least-expensive U.S. offerings.
The Focus's total bill for maintenance ran to $447 with zero spent on repair. That's $98 less than for the Toyota RAV4 we reported on in December 1997. It's also in the ballpark for a two-door Honda Civic (November 1997) that cost $409, but the Focus was aced by a Dodge Neon (December 1995), which ran $213.
For $447, we received an oil change every 5000 miles costing about $24 apiece, a tire rotation at 5000 and 15,000 miles that ran $15 apiece, and a full inspection at 30,000 miles that put in new air and fuel filters and new transmission fluid and engine oil. Including a third tire rotation, it bent the credit card by $249. The service bill would have been lower if Ford followed other makers with a schedule sending you back every 7500 miles instead of 5000.
The Focus's mechanical problems were minor. During the first oil change, a persistent failing of the folding left-rear seatback to latch upright was corrected by a modest technician who recorded on the receipt how he'd accomplished the fix: "Moved seatbelt out of the way."
And at 20,151 miles, the power-mirror and interior-light fuse blew. Cause: unknown. Repeats: none. Two recalls performed at the 15,000-mile stop replaced the A-pillar trim and the rear-seat hinge for free.
In the meantime, the Focus notebook drew comments praising the car's chiseled looks, frugal fuel needs-it averaged 30 mpg-and light and tight handling. Most staffers enjoyed the evenings and weekends in which the Focus's thick steering wheel reached their hands. "You do have to think about momentum when passing, but otherwise this car is just plain fun to drive," said one.
