Ford makes the Ford Flex discontinuation official with an odd salute to the model

By Bill Hayward

A collection of Ford Flexes spells out the models name, in a salute marking the Ford Flex discontinuation.
Photo: Ford Media Center

You would think that a model that warrants superlatives like “it broke the mold” and “superstar appeal” might be worth a new generation, or at least a design refresh, to breathe new life into it. But instead, Ford used these superlatives to bid a model good-bye, in Monday’s press release officially announcing the Ford Flex discontinuation.

When the Ford Flex first entered the market in 2008, by happenstance I had two opportunities to rent one for a relatively extended period of time. I found it a refreshing change from the Ford Windstar minivan that was our family beater at the time. It had a tough-to-classify feel that mixed truck-ish, van-ish, and station-wagon-ish qualities.

“Flex broke the mold. It had both crossover and minivan elements in a hip, trendy package that stood out from what was becoming a really boring minivan segment,” said Chris Kessler, Ford Flex marketing manager. “Its design traced its roots to the traditional family station wagons that many of our customers remember growing up with, but it brought forward modern sport/utility design elements and features both parents and kids loved.”

I remember being struck with the roominess of the Ford Flex, and a surprisingly comfortable ride that made highway miles go down like butter. Especially with the two-tone paint schemes that made the roof stand out in contrast with the body, it also had a subtly retro appeal that was reminiscent of vintage big utility wagons that were sometimes used as police vehicles, like the 1960s Jeep Wagoneers that were immortalized by a Tonka toy version.

Burgundy Ford Flex with contrasting white roof.
Contrasting-roof paint schemes were among the most distinctive features of the Ford Flex. Photo: Ford Media Center.

But you can make a strong case that any resemblance of the Ford Flex to that class of vehicle was largely superficial. Its construction was unibody—the Ford Flex was not built on a body-on-frame truck platform. All-wheel drive was available for the Ford Flex SEL and Limited trim levels. But it was based on a front-wheel-drive architecture with a transverse-mounted engine and transaxle. It wasn’t a rear-wheel-drive-based 4×4, which is what you would expect in a true, off-road-capable SUV, or in a pickup truck like the Ford F-150.

Perhaps it is just these mixed qualities that resulted in Ford’s failure to find the right market niche for the Flex. In a sense, the failure may have started with something quite intentional. The model’s name itself—Flex—suggests something that bridges multiple categories, and it debuted in an era when the term “crossover” was not yet in wide use to represent a distinct automotive category.

So it was almost unavoidable that this early instance of the crossover concept would be prone to an identity crisis of sorts—which, in hindsight, casts a tone of inevitability over the Ford Flex discontinuation. Perhaps it’s an example of “the innovator’s dilemma.”

Or it could be a much simpler case of weak product positioning and lackluster marketing.

Arguably, the model’s name only made the identity crisis worse. The Ford Flex hit the market in a climate of rising fuel prices and a buildup toward the worst economic crisis since The Great Depression. In this context, some consumers heard the name “Flex” and assumed that the vehicle was a hybrid, or that it was flex-fuel capable. It was neither.

Instead of asserting a new category of its own, there was an inherent uncertainty as to what the Ford Flex was, where it fit, who it was for. It was somewhat truck-like, but not rugged enough to win cred as a true SUV or appeal to a buyer who is into workhorses like Ford F-150s, Explorers, or Expeditions, for example.

Yet while it offered the room of a minivan and an interior that could be considered swanky for its time, the vehicle may not have been quite cushy enough, in look, feel, or both, for someone looking for a more family-vehicle type of experience. Maybe it was even a little too big for someone who just wanted something to cart kids to their soccer games.

What I think should have found a stronger niche was the Lincoln MKT, the badge-engineered twin of the Ford Flex that for some years eluded my attention. When I discovered the MKT, it impressed even more than the Flex initially did. The Lincoln take on the Ford Flex platform was one of the more creative examples of badge engineering, because the MKT came across as a vehicle that was very different from the Flex.

With the MKT, Lincoln created a luxury vehicle that captured a lot of the spirit of the classic American land-yacht station wagon. The MKT/Flex relationship was much less obvious than the typical case of badge engineering, where from the outside the badge itself can sometimes be almost the only noticeable difference. I did not even realize that the two vehicles shared a platform until I took a deeper dive into the MKT’s technical details.

The elements for success were there, but the Lincoln MKT, like the Ford Flex, ultimately also failed to make a big splash on the market. Whether this was the result of a marketing failure by Ford is another question, but the MKT nonetheless is now gone as well, its demise announced earlier this year, preceding the Ford Flex discontinuation.

With the Flex, it does seem a little incongruous that Ford is killing a vehicle that they are giving such an honorable salute, pointing to phenomena like the crossover’s early appeal to celebrities like baseball player Royce Clayton and renowned custom car builder Chip Foose.

But the novelty appeal wore off quickly. And Ford failed to create a brand story compelling enough to sustain the market’s interest in the Ford Flex—or any brand story for the Flex at all, for that matter.

The market took different directions, and it seems that Ford made little effort breathe more life into the Flex. The model was there in Ford’s lineup for 11 years, but people seemed to just forget about it. Perhaps my personal perspective on the vehicle is quite representative. There was a brief time when I considered buying a Ford Flex to replace our family minivan, but eventually I too moved on. It wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t grow to hate the vehicle by any means. I just slowly and semi-consciously reached a point where I was done with the idea of owning one.

Ford’s official announcement of the Ford Flex discontinuation makes me sad to see it go, but not sad enough to run out and buy one of the remaining examples. The moment of opportunity for the Ford Flex apparently came and went at the market level, just like my early spark of interest as an individual fizzled out before very long.

Ford’s excuse that they need to kill vehicles like the Flex to make room for new models on the horizon, like the coming “Mustang-inspired electric performance utility vehicle,” comes across as a bit inauthentic. Yet it’s tough to see what other choice Ford would have for the Flex at this juncture, regardless of the potential for something greater that the model might once have had.

So, good-bye, Ford Flex. You seemed like such a good idea at the time, but, for better or worse, the world has moved on.

AutoNewsblaster