Bright Focus Titanium courts attention with cleverness

FORD: I’ll see you in court. You know the apocryphal tale of the American gent who put his RV into “cruise control” on the freeway, went into the back to make himself a cup of coffee, promptly crashed, then sued Winnebago for not explaining to him exactly what “cruise control” does? Meet his British cousin.

For a week, I found the splendid park assist system in the equally splendid Focus Titanium 1.6T Ecoboost to be a godsend in Edinburgh. When I wanted to park, I just pushed a button, drove past the space until the car told me to stop, stuck it in reverse, and the car did the rest. Sometimes it looked as if it wasn’t going to make it, and I cringed, but then the steering wheel would, at the last moment, burl madly round like a ghost ship’s helm and park the car unscathed in a space so tight you couldn’t swipe a credit card between the bumpers.

So imagine my chagrin, Mr Ford, to find that your oh-so-clever car had disappeared from nearby my flat one morning, having obediently parked itself there the night before. Had it been nicked? Gone for a wander by itself a la Herbie? A phonecall to Seafield car pound solved the mystery. The parking space this marvel of technology had chosen for me was actually in a (completely pointless) urban clearway, and so it had been towed away just minutes after 8am (they should replace the chumps in charge of Edinburgh’s trams with the mob in parking because by God, they don’t mess around). Yes, there was a sign there with some small print about parking signs, but I assumed the snazzy sign-reading technology included in the £525 convenience pack along with the parking assist would figure that out for me. I didn’t realise it only reads speed limit signs and gives the driver a warning when the speed limit’s changing.

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So I’m £180 poorer, thanks to your bloody parking system – it wasn’t me who chose that space or parked it there – and now I’m going to sue you for every penny you’re worth. Well, £180 plus the bus fare to Seafield. Oh, plus some compensation for the embarrassment I endured at the car pound, where the staff, barely stiflling smirks, informed me that the wardens had been arguing all morning over what colour to describe the “candy yellow metallic” paint job and had settled for “green” on the ticket. Green! I ask you.

You can only count yourself lucky Ford, that this claim is not more substantial on account of the fact that, parking violations and dubious colour schemes aside, your car is an absolute cracker and a joy to be in (not least because inside, you can’t see the outside).

Your attention to what a driver needs and wants just sings throughout this car. Getting behind the wheel feels like coming home. Everything is where it should be and as it should be (apart from the stop/start button, which hides behind the wheel). Ignore the thousand- buttoned stereo and there is a pleasing simplicity about the Focus that has been present since you unveiled the first one in 1998.

From the ever-so-manly handbrake lever (not a weedy little button like everyone else is doing these days), to the sturdy little six-speed gear stick that confidently jolts into position at the merest touch, to the joyously nimble and firm ride – this is a car all about balance. The 1.6-litre engine’s 148bhp makes for a nippy drive, and this is well complemented by the sprightly steering and refined road-holding, but your clever Ecoboost engine makes for a pocket-friendly thirst of 47.1 mpg, which I managed to eke in to the 50s with a bit of light-footed coaxing.

Build-wise, you’ve done a grand job too, Ford. Doors make a Volkswagenian thunk when shut. Capacious boot and plenty of legroom in that 4.35-metre span too. And with standard features such as electronic stability correction and a veritable boudoir of airbags, along with automatic windscreen washers, hill-start assist, Bluetooth and a host of other premium goodies crammed into the Titanium as standard, I’ll let you off with that bus fare to Seafield.

And for the looks on the faces of passers by as I breezily look-mum-no-handsed my way into parking spots across Scotland for that week, I could be persuaded to settle out of court.

Just give me the Focus for another week and we’ll see.

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