As the rev-counter needle sweeps past the figures, the sound from the motor shows off its many layers. The soundtrack is emphasized by a special exhaust system that channels what Ford calls "good engine noise" back into the cabin to romance your ears. Moving off, there's a deep bass resonance, which is joined by a gentle turbo whistle that's soon replaced by a convincing impression of the Millennium Falcon during take-off. It's like a vocal duet. Next, the turn of the engine takes the lead, giving a fantastic throaty warble, similar to a race-tuned V-8. As your right foot stays mercilessly planted on the accelerator, the funky note gets higher and higher until the needle's knocking seven bells out of the redline. You grab a fistful of gear stick, go up a gear, and do it all again. It's so quick and vocal that you wonder if this really is a standard production motor.
The road shrinks right back down and makes the passenger-door mirror nervous. At first, the road is framed either side by intimidating dry-stone walling, before giving way to huge, craggy rocks as we dive down into Cheddar Gorge. I was here with a similar car a few years ago, which is why we're here now. It too had fat tires, big brakes, a 220-bhp turbocharged engine, and a six-speed gearbox-but it couldn't cope with this road. It torque-steered and tramlined so much that I sweated off a few pounds just driving 100 yards under full acceleration. The steering was wooden and the gearbox felt as if it had been drained of oil and left to rot in the desert for 20 years. If the ST has any weaknesses, this uncompromising, twisty, heavily cambered stretch of tough blackness will find them and make it look stupid. Well, that was the plan.
After stopping and doing a U-turn, it was time to prepare for the uphill assault. Down here the bitumen is black, wet, and shiny, while the grass verges lie hidden under a couple of inches of snow. Inside, the dashboard's still showing that ice warning-but, ah, what the heck! This is what electronic driver aids are for.
Onto the gas, the five warbles and whooshes, the scenery dissolves into blur, and it just goes-no sideways shimmy, no scrabbling tires, and no fighting with the steering wheel. It's a good job, really. Still the road gets narrower and more twisty, but the ST isn't fussed-point, squirt, grip, grip, and grip. Off goes the radio and down goes the window to fully savor the motor's music bouncing of the gorge's prehistoric rocky walls. My grin's so wide that my face is in danger of splitting in half.
Even nasty adverse camber-the sort you usually have to tiptoe around-fails to make the front wheels lose grip and the nose wash wide; so much for concerns about weight distribution and possible nose-heaviness from that big engine. There's no sign of the sledgehammer effect on these public roads. Get into a rhythm and keep it smooth, with the big-vented 320mm front discs and 280mm rears vaporizing surplus speed. Turn the steering wheel, and the ST turns in crisply with minimal body roll and superb poise. Then it's back onto the power.
The rocks recede as we climb out of the dark gorge and into the sunshine. The road widens and the severe corners evolve into beautiful sweeping bends. The speed gets larger and wilder. As the ST flows through S-bends, the combination of great talkative steering, front-end grip, and poise makes me think about how to raise the cash for an ST. Part exchange the Mark I? Raid the savings account and, well, I'm sure I could get by on one kidney if I sell the other on eBay...
Then almost in recognition of the ST's hard work, the road turns arrow straight for nearly a mile. There's no traffic about, so for one last hurrah, I stamp on it and thump through the gears into Fourth. Hurtling along at warp speed, the suspension has to work hard to cope with all sorts of bumps and lumps, but you'd never know it because of the supple ride, quality damping, and sheer composure. Heck, there are still two gears left!
The road, though, is running out and coming up to a set of traffic signals, so the brakes are hauled on. The pedal is full of information and has a nice, light short travel. As for effectiveness? They worked so well that under heavy application I'm sure I experienced a split-second of weightlessness before my forearms started to ache just holding myself back from the wheel. I come to a halt from a big three-figure speed, safely and calmly, without any hint of panic or rear-end fidgeting. To approach this car's formidable limits, a racetrack would be needed.
As for the bad news, there isn't any to speak of. The only time the ST lost its composure and started to squirm was when those big 225/40R18s tramlined under full acceleration on a road so poorly maintained that it looked as if someone had ploughed up the surface of the moon. That's it. When it comes to the good news, there's plenty and, despite some class-one dumb moves to provoke it, the ST behaved itself and frequently impressed.
Undoubtedly, the Duratec ST "five" has brought the chassis of the Mark II Focus alive and, to be honest, it's done the same for me. In the space of a few hours I was reminded what fun it is to feel as if you're 17 again and to enjoy real driving. With the new ST, you could say the Mark II Focus has rediscovered its mojo.