Ford S-Max: Ford's slick new people carrier

By Michael Booth

Published: 13 August 2006

Specifications

Would suit Proud dads
Price on the road £21,495
Maximum speed 119mph, 0-60mph in 10.1 seconds
Combined fuel economy 44.8mpg
Further information 08457 111 888

Dads have no voice in society these days. Not only that but, thanks to political correctness, we are about the only demographic left who people can ridicule without fear of condemnation by the Guardian's leader writers, or David Cameron's spin doctors.

But if I see one more advert with a stupid, be-cardiganed father spilling washing powder on the dog or forgetting his wedding anniversary, I am going to do a Peter Finch (as in "I'm mad as hell and not going to take it any more", when he was playing Howard Beale in Network, 1976).

Dads need a support group, something like the RSPCA, but for men with ice-lolly stains on their lapel jackets, more LPs than CDs and bruises from chasing imaginary Gruffaloes from their children's wardrobes. I'm not talking about a Fathers 4 Justice-type arrangement (I don't have the thighs for tights, or a head for heights), just a moderate pressure group whose aim is to get more repeats of The Professionals on TV, make iPods with built-in lighters and lobby for more comfortable seating outside the lady's changing rooms in Marks & Spencer.

At least the car industry is on our side. Though mothers take as many car-buying decisions as dads, it is the fathers who peruse Autocar in their few moments of isolation on the lavatory, and trawl showrooms gathering brochures. Car firms know full well it is the fathers whose attention they must grab. They employ several means to achieve this: 1) Using unfathomable technical jargon in adverts; 2) Kitting out car interiors with brushed chrome and a handbrake that looks like an aeroplane throttle; and 3) Adding pretend air vents on the wings.

The Ford S-Max ticks all these boxes but unlike, say, a Lotus Elise, it will almost certainly survive the first-round brochure purge by the family decision-maker. Of course, mothers like fast, sexy cars as much as men, but they can never admit this - particularly in the company of other women. These days, for a mother to be seen behind the wheel of a sexy, fast car is up there with cutting costs on sun cream or snogging Pete Doherty in the list of motherly no-nos. But the S-Max is a people carrier, that most child-centric of vehicles. It seats seven, has airbags everywhere and rides relatively high, so nippers can get a grandstand view out the windows. The seats do that clever folding-into-the-floor trick, so you can squeeze in mountain bikes and Ikea bunk-bed flatpacks. And, of course, it's a Ford, and Ford says "family". There are few more telling signs that one has sacrificed the joy of single life for the lingering faecal odour and ketchup stains of parenthood than having a blue oval on your drive.

But with an S-Max there is no sacrifice. It really is a pleasure to drive. I tried the 2-litre diesel version, which is likely to be the best-seller, and was shocked at how fast and fun it was (and there's another, faster version which has the same 2.5-litre engine as the Focus ST). The six-speed gearbox was a paragon of cog-shifting excellence and I was equally taken by the interior - the best of any Ford, ever (although the exterior paint quality was atrocious). Most surprising of all, was how long I spent lingering in contemplation of the way the thing looked on my drive. Almost as long as I spend clearing up spilt washing powder, in fact. s

Michael Booth's 'Just As Well I'm Leaving' is out now in paperback (Vintage)

It's a classic: Ford Anglia

What if you could go back in time to 1959 and take a Ford S-Max with you? Imagine the confusion if you were to drive it to the nearest Ford dealer and show prospective Ford Anglia buyers the kind of car that will be on offer in that same showroom half a century later.

The Anglia replaced the Prefect and, if the Mini had not been launched at the same time, it would have looked a bargain. The Standard model cost just £589, but owners had to forgo virtually every extra, unless they forked out for the Deluxe version which had such wanton luxuries as a glove-box lid and a full-width chrome grill.

Never mind, whichever model you chose you still got that transatlantic styling with the rear fins and rear-sloping back window, lots of chrome and, for a small extra charge, two-tone pastel paint.

The Anglia was also available in van and estate versions and Ford went on to sell almost 1.3 million of them over eight years.