I rather be ford flexing than get ford flexed on, but in truth I’d rather be euthanized.

Welcome to the Flex, a refrigerator of a car that was pushed over and motorized. It looks like a fridge and drives like one too, every single movement is like pushing through sludge. Have you ever wanted to drive what the 2008 recession feels like for a middle class family? This is it. Martha, turn on the headrest TVs for the kids to watch veggie tales, I’ve got a business call to make and I know it won’t go well.

This car is what happens when all driving feel, safety, power or anything automotive related at all is thrown into the incinerator and the only thing that matters is human mass and being hip. I’m going to be blunt, this thing drives like shit. Like actually a giant mushy log of shit from a Qdoba burrito. Brakes? No. Power? I’m good. Steering? Nah. Grip? Who cares. The Flex is like a tin of Spam. Designed to fit the most amount of meat inside as possible. This is more than a soccer mom car. This is a soccer QUEEN car. Your mom is divorced but she still takes the kids to the Saturday soccer game. We’re getting Guiseppie’s Sloppy Slices wether you win or not, EVERYONE IS A WINNER. Yes, JAMIE, ERICK, JACK, AREK, RILEY AND JENNICE CAN COME, WE HAVE ROOM.

WE ALWAYS HAVE ROOM.

The mom who drives a Flex is the mom who swore she would never get a minivan. This is the same goddamn thing without a sliding door, there is no other difference. This could be called the new Ford Windstar and not a single eye would bat. However, the mom brain remains steadfast in keeping up “cool” appearances by driving something that looks like a refrigerator that’s been tipped over. Now I gotta say, I DO think it looks interesting, I like that it’s not a generic blob. I like it in the same way the Nissan Cube is an oddball. I don’t actually like it, but I commend the effort.

Alright, let me actually review the damned thing. My biggest takeaway was how utterly terrifying realizing the lower slung vehicle you’re in weighs nearly as much as a Raptor while you’re trying to apply a braking force. Stopping in this monstrosity is SCARY because you don’t realize how fast the toaster is traveling. It’s quiet and smooth at highway speeds, which is great. Getting up to that speed is a different ball game, however.

This pitiful piss-slow piece-of-shit of a powerplant hates being used as an engine. I feel like it would much rather be something like a chair, or maybe a piece of bread, because whenever you ask the anemic 3.something V6 to do anything, it screams and throws a fit the entire time. It’s like a spoiled pre-teen, it’ll kick and yell but eventually get done what’s being asked of it. But just because it gets done doesn’t mean it’s happy in the process. Something else that doesn’t like being used like it’s supposed to is the transmission, who, just like it’s sister the engine, tries it’s best to do absolutely no work whatsoever by shifting as soon as humanly possible, most of the time at or below 2500 RPM, even if you’re trying to push it.

It’s really for the “we need a family van!” mom married to the “I’ll never own a minivan, I’m still cool!” dad. Worst of both worlds, really. It gives you the confidence to take a corner somewhat quickly until it plows into a street sign because it CAN’T take a corner and will simply understeer. Outside of the driving “dynamics”, if that’s what you want to call it, it’s got features that you would find in a top-of-the line 2004 rich car, but they’ve made it all the way down the chain to the 2010s. Headrest TVs? You got it! Cooler in the center console? Just like the Aztec! Leather seats, you got it! Dual option digital screen head unit, wow! Yep, it’s a 2004 Escalade made in 2010 in terms of options.

So, let’s be honest. It’s a ordinary SUV trying so hard to be extraordinary, yet as much as it tries, it’s still a Ford Flex. It will be nothing more, nothing less. Until time ends, the Ford Flex will be interesting yet forever unremarkable.

Hold on. Monty here. I’ve got some hatred for this stupid excuse for transportation. I’ve never driven one to be honest, but that fact that it drives like an asthmatic sloth and has the dynamic prowess of an oil tanker doesn’t surprise me. I’m half glad that Justin drove it and not me. However, my distain for this unfortunate brick on wheels all starts from its styling.

It’s not the car your get your wife while refusing to have a minivan in your drivable. No no it’s the kinda unfortunate mistake the husband ends up making for himself when the eco sport outgrew the family (and it’s warrantee) meanwhile the wife won’t let you put the kids in your old Explorer after beer cans started showing up under the seats. You need something to drive, and you’ll be damned if you drive something that ain’t supporting the U-S-of-A’s domestic auto industry (plus you don’t want to deal with your coworkers making fun of your Honda Pilot).

So you go car shopping with the whole family, making it one long agonizing day out to watch your kids tear apart a new Tacoma and the salesman constantly eyeing up your wife’s ass and your dead-inside existence.

By lunch, you’ve looked at the list of dreary testaments of driving mediocracy and notice how they’re either all minivans and Japanese SUV’s. And the family really did like that Honda Oddessy… But no, YOU have left life slip away from YOUR grasp for too long. “We’re not getting a minivan”, said in stern defiance. And while everyone from the wife to the kids complain, you’ve perfected the art of soberly drowning it out.

End of the day, you wind up at ford. The kids couldn’t care less, and by now your wife just wants to leave and figure it out later. At the brink of caving in, you spot it.

F L E X

Of course, how could you have been so daft!? The low stance, aggressive fenders and boxed styling, the two tone color, that commanding driving position. It’s about the same size as a minivan but… this.. this is a MAN’S car.

And so, feeling as if you’ve won for the first time in a long time, convincing the wife that “no no can doors are not better, they’re dangerous to the kids and it gets better gas mill age”, you can rest assured that your dignity as a human being is restored. Hell, with that Flex in your driveway, maybe the neighbors will stop flirting with your wife and inviting your kids to dinner (and start inviting you over instead, you know you’re asshole wants it).

The flex trudges on, mile after mile, as your being an every increasing passenger count from soccer game to pizza joint, as you fill your life with meaningless activities to forget your own infidelity, you can sleep soundly at night. You don’t drive a minivan.