Back to the Fusion
Pirate Press April 2021
On the Fusion's six-hour drive home from Georgia last October, I had plenty of time to formulate an attack plan for what needed to be done to bring it in line with my (admittedly) high standards. After all, a Ferrari, Corvette and 300-hp Saturn are tough acts to follow.
At Gary Yeoman's Ford in Daytona Beach where I bought my Red Line, they promised a "135 point safety check: The Service Department will check your vehicle to make sure components such as brakes, windshield wipers, lights and much more are in proper working order and that you won't experience any unexpected problems." This was typical, perfidious stealership rhetoric as not only did I receive a check-engine light before I even made it back to Mississippi that cost $635 to repair, but the tires were dry-rotted and worn, with one blowing out a year later. Additionally, the front axle was leaking, the windshield wipers were shot, and both air-filters and fuel filter were filthy and had never been changed. I can't imagine any legitimate "safety check" that excludes these essential items.
Thankfully, I was treated slightly better at Heritage Nissan when I bought the Fusion: It had brand-new OEM Goodyear Eagle RS-A tires, the wiper blades worked well (for the hurricane we drove through), and the oil was fresh. Unfortunately, the antifreeze and accompanying air filters were the worst I've ever seen, as if the ex-owner had driven up and down every dirt road in Georgia for the vehicle's entire 34,000 miles.. Heritage Nissan claims "We fully inspect the vehicles before we sell them to be confident that the vehicle is in great condition" but there's no way even a cursory glance of the coolant or filters should have passed muster.
It's hard to tell from the photo, but there was a frightening amount of sediment in the coolant tank. I've gone 100,000 miles in my vehicles and never seen antifreeze even remotely close to the muck present in the Fusion. In fact, I was so concerned that as soon as we got back to Mississippi, I called Estabrook Ford to arrange an immediate flush. They couldn't fit me in for several days, so I ended up taking it to Clark's Professional Car Care, an independent shop I've come to trust. Speaking with the owner Derek, he instantly arranged for me to bring it in and had it finished before lunch. The result was new coolant that looked clean enough to drink, although he wisely advised against it.
Truthfully, I could have changed the fluid myself, but with the Fusion's cumbersome underbody tray and fragile plastic petcock, I didn't want to risk damaging it. Fortunately, replacing the engine air filter was much easier since I no longer had a supercharger in the way as I did with the Saturn. I was tempted to pick up a K&N filter for it, but after the issues with a K&N on our 2006 Freestyle and the damaged MAF sensor, I decided against it.
The original engine air filter was a dingy orange color, both from the age and mileage. If not for the identical dimensions, I'd never have imagined that they were for the same car.
But the cabin air filter was the absolute worst, with it hardly recognizable as ever originally being white. And further inspection revealed just how filthy it really was, with tons of dirt and crud jam-packed in every pleat.
I was largely pleased with the exterior cosmetics, aside from the ridiculously priapistic roof antenna. I've never been a fan of antennas, even going so far as to completely remove the one from my Saturn. For the Fusion, I looked at buying a custom, color-matched shark-fin style replacement, but it would have required prying off the factory one and gluing on the new one, which I was opposed to. Instead, I simply bought a "stubby" replacement that screwed onto the original base, but reduced the overall height by almost two-thirds. Even better, the mini-antennae only cost eight dollars and I received it in a couple days, versus $80 and four weeks for the aftermarket one. Best of all, my reception hasn't suffered one bit.
The box was so big that I actually had to pick it up in my wife's SUV and fold down the rear seat so it would fit. Despite it's heavy and cumbersome nature, it was nonetheless packaged well with a plethora of protection to prevent the shiny stainless steel pipes from getting scratched up. Aside from the gleaming 4" exhaust tips, I lamented to Amanda that's it's a shame the entire exhaust is obscured during daily use since it's such a work of art.
Of course, the Fusion isn't a one-dimensional car like my Ferrari or Corvette which looked great but were terrible to drive, and I suppose that's why I've become so enamored with it. As my daily driver, 95% of the time I just need something to safely and reliably ferry me to work and back without any drama. It's the other 5% that I get to exercise the "Sport" designation in the Fusion's name. Unfortunately, leaving my job at the same time as the Drug Task Force agents and the Sheriff' Deputies means I need to be on my best behavior. Despite that, the patrol cars are easy to spot and they usually drive faster than me. Likewise, the Task Force trucks try so hard to be incognito that the reverse happens and they're pretty unmistakable with their all-black paint jobs and (ironically) illegally tinted windows.
However, there have been a couple instances where I've been able to "exercise" the Fusion and ensure that all 265 ponies are present and pulling. The first was a Hyundai Genesis 2.0 Turbo Coupe that I was behind as we waited to turn onto Highway 63. I figured he might mistake my Fusion for the slower four-cylinder variant (which is what I've encountered myself) and try to leave me in his dust. When the light turned green, we both rolled out and I promptly moved into the right lane so I could pass him. But judging from the wide-open wail of his exhaust and his acceleration, it was clear that he was racing and I was having to play catch up. In spite of my initial car-length deficit, the Fusion's V6 was noticeably making more power and I was steadily gaining on him. By 80 mph, I had run him down and was passing him when he suddenly hit the brakes. In street racing parlance, we call this type of cowardly forfeiture "the loser's weasel" because he was attempting to squirm his way out of a confrontation that he irrefutably lost. And when I looked it up later I saw why— his turbocharged four-cylinder was only rated for 210 hp, a deficit of over 50 hp compared to my Fusion. And given nearly equal curb weights of 3,300 lbs., he wasn't going to win even with an unfair head start. To put that difference in perspective, my Fusion is a full-second faster to 60 mph, 3 seconds faster to 100 mph, and a whopping 10 seconds faster to 130 mph! Heck, at that rate I don't blame him for giving up!
The second race was much more improbable, but not that unlikely given the local rednecks' fondness for full-size trucks. Admittedly, I'm not much on knowing specific models of trucks, other than recognizing that it was a big, newer-model Dodge. Unbelievably, as I sat at the same traffic light where I had raced the Genesis, this grinning hillbilly began revving his engine and scooting closer and closer toward the intersection. He was undoubtedly attempting to bait me into a race and I was more than happy to oblige!
At least this time I was side-by-side with my opponent so it was on a more level playing field. And as the light changed, we both tentatively pulled across the intersection. I was waiting until my front tires were pointed straight ahead before I applied full throttle. Ford's traction control is mildly effective, but it's certainly no limited-slip differential when attempting to put the power down in a curve. With 17-inch tires on my Saturn, I was accustomed to excessive wheel spin and I felt the Fusion's 18-inch rubber would mitigate that issue. However, it appears that 19-inch wheels are now what I need, even though that size was previously reserved for super cars like the $250,000 Ferrari California I drove in New Orleans.
But once we had circumnavigated the traffic median and I was pointed straight ahead, I smoothly squeezed the throttle down, hoping not to break traction. Painting twin black strips down the highway in an acrid haze of tire smoke looks mightily impressive in the movies, but in the real world it's anathema to acceleration. Or like they say at drag strips, "Spinning ain't Winning!"
Unfortunately, Ford's programming of the six-speed transmission tends to err on the conservative side, favoring fuel economy and reliability over optimized shift points, so it can be a little lazy at times and this happened to be one of those occasions. As such, it was like starting a race in second gear, which is essentially what happened. Even so, we were dead even until around 60 mph when the Dodge's Everest-like aerodynamics really came into play and it began to struggle with the exponentially increasing wind-resistance. By 80 mph, he was several car-lengths back and I felt confident in tapping my brake lights to signal that I was slowing down. In a perfect world where I wouldn't have to worry about possible incarceration or vehicle impoundment, I would have happily sailed up to 100 mph or more, thereby heaping even more humiliation upon him. Of course, even though I let off, he continued to roar past me in a petulant display of defiance. But, he only succeeded in getting hemmed in by traffic further ahead, whereby I joyfully passed him again (legally this time) leaving me to ask "Who's smilin' now, buddy?"
Another race improbably took place just as I was starting my day. I had puttered to the end of my street and was waiting to pull onto Hwy 63. There's always a speeding glut of morning commuters so I'm accustomed to having a delay until it's clear. I spotted an oncoming maroon truck in the first lane with his blinker on so I figured he was turning at my road which isn't uncommon. Based on that knowledge, I went ahead and pulled out only to discover that he wasn't turning. Furthermore, Bubba incorrectly believed that I would slow him down so he swerved into the second lane with the idea of blowing past me. Much to his chagrin, that didn't happen as I kept the accelerator pedal firmly pinned to the floor. With the transmission redlining at 6500rpm in first and second gear, I had matched his speed just as he drew alongside. But rather than acknowledging his misconception about me, he furiously attempted to pass. Nonchalantly, I continued to keep the throttle buried until I saw an indicated 95 mph and he was a couple car lengths astern. I then calmly let off, broadcasting the notion that I begin everyday by casually hitting 95 mph as I pull onto the highway. The four doors and sedan body are very effective at this ruse, as no one expects it to be as quick as it is. And believe me, it works even better than a Starbucks Tripleshot at waking me up!
Finally, the most exciting race was with a 2013-era Mustang V6. It could have been a 2014 model, as both sported the LED headlights and tail lamps, but I couldn't tell for sure. What I was certain about was that it possessed a similar, albeit larger and more powerful version of the V6 in my own car. At 3.7 liters and 305 horsepower, it had a 40hp advantage, but was also around 200 lbs heavier. I initially hadn't intended to race him, but after he needlessly and aggressively flew around me, I decided that he had earned a serving of humble pie!
From his belligerent passing maneuver, it was also clear that he was sporting some type of obnoxiously loud aftermarket exhaust. However, given the clearly neglected condition of the car, I confidently concluded that it was most likely some cheap mufflers instead of a premium cat-back system like mine.
I was surprised to discover that his car was a six-speed manual, as he continuously revved it during our confrontation. The first two races were from 70mph+ highway rolls, and both times I pulled away from him so hard that I wondered if maybe he wasn't prepared or ready? But there would be no refuting our third and final race as I was stopped behind him at a traffic light. Once the light turned green, and we threaded our way through the traffic in front of us, we had an open four-lane and no excuses. I purposely let him get the hit, and then I followed suit, absolutely smashing the gas pedal to the floor. And while I've found that the Fusion's automatic six-speed can be reluctant at times (see above), this was not one of them, as it banged through the wide-open-throttle redline upshifts faster than I could have done it myself.
In the heat of the moment, I saw the Fusion's glowing speedometer needle sweeping past 110 mph and I realized I needed to slow down immediately in case there was a State Trooper ahead. But that was the only alarming element, as from a mechanical standpoint the Fusion was absolutely rock-solid with no nervous characteristics. With it's huge rear-spoiler and ground-effects package, my Red Line produced more road-hugging downforce, but it was at the expense of aerodynamic drag. Checking the coast-down measurements of my Ford versus my Saturn, it's clear the Fusion possesses a much more slippery shape, and might actually accelerate quicker above 100 mph than the Red Line despite the power gap. I'll hopefully have an opportunity in the future whereby I can prudently poke the Fusion through 120 mph, much like like I did with the Corvette and Ferrari, to test its high-speed handling. And as for the Mustang, I later read that due to driveshaft failures, the V6 model is limited to 112 mph, so even though he was several car lengths behind, he would never have caught me. Aside from that, I'm at a loss to speculate why it didn't perform better.
And while it wasn't as thrilling, I did drive the Fusion in the coldest weather I've ever experienced. Thanks to Winter Storm Uri, it was the chilliest Mardi Gras in history, breaking a record set back in 1893. The frigid temps also had a very pleasant side-effect, temporarily increasing my horsepower roughly 10% due to the denser air. Unfortunately, it seemed to coincide with a corresponding decrease in traction from the cold asphalt, which predictably nullified my ability to use said extra power. Even so, it spawned a delightful game of tug-of-war between my engine and ECM; Taking off from a standing start, the tires would begin to spin at 3000rpm wherein the computer would sense the slippage and begin to pull timing. However, I would keep my foot in it so that the engine was developing more power and I would let them fight it out. It produced a pretty amusing contest, although having the front wheels spin at 60 mph can be slightly unnerving.
Lastly, I didn't realize it when I bought it, but it was satisfying to discover that the Fusion holds the Dollar-per-Horsepower crown of all my car purchases. My equation assigns a vehicle's value based on the price divided by the horsepower (i.e. the cheapest performance). New cars are traditionally terrible at this as a new 2021 Corvette commands roughly $200 per horsepower ($100,000 \ 495 HP). Sadly, my Ferrari boasted a similarly poor ratio, but there was nothing rational about it. However, my 2002 Corvette represented a much better investment at around just $35 per horsepower. The formula also bases the intrinsic value on the factory produced power, not any aftermarket amount, as that can be burdened by a variety of variables. For instance, my Red Line had 205 hp when I bought it, but was later modified to produce 310. Even factoring in the cost of the upgrades would still tremendously skew the overall Dollar\Horsepower rating.
And as we faced the unpredictable wrath of Mother Nature, the Fusion's first six months of ownership were arguably more "exciting" than that same time with any other car I've ever owned. Not only did it endure the aforementioned sub-freezing temperatures of Winter Storm Uri, but it also survived our driving through Hurricane Delta. In my lifetime, it's been exceedingly rare to encounter either of those events, but to experience both within 120 days of each other was historically unprecedented.
Truthfully, no car is perfect, but the Fusion is undeniably the most well-rounded automobile I've owned to date. I recently bragged to my wife how enjoyable it was to drive, and she sarcastically remarked that it shouldn't take me long before I screw that up. I laughed, but she had a point: Engine upgrades increase the wear and fuel consumption, suspension parts degrade the ride quality, etc. Modifying any car is a slippery slope, so I'm trying to tread lightly and improve it without destroying it.
Wish me luck!
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