Grand Tour Ford Raptor Episode | FAST |
Then came the Raptor. Clarkson, channeling his inner Baja champion, decided that finesse was for people who didn’t have 450 horsepower. He hit the river at speed. The Raptor launched off a submerged rock, hung in the air for a glorious, terrifying second—Jeremy’s face a perfect O of panic and joy—and then slammed down into a four-foot-deep hole.
“It doesn’t fit ,” Hammond cackled from his narrow, nimble Jeep, which was threading through the gaps like a sewing machine needle. grand tour ford raptor episode
The real baptism, however, came at the “river of sorrows,” a rushing, boulder-strewn death trap that the production team had laughably described as a “ford.” Hammond in the Jeep went first, bouncing and sliding but ultimately surviving. May in the Chevy went next, with all the grace of a librarian waltzing—cautious, effective, but utterly boring. Then came the Raptor
“It’s a cheat code!” he screamed over the radio. “The faster you go, the smoother it gets! It’s like the road just gives up and apologizes for existing!” The Raptor launched off a submerged rock, hung
He never did get his coffee. But the Raptor got its legend.
The trio had been given a simple task: cross 800 miles of the most brutal, beautiful, and utterly ridiculous terrain on the planet, from the Caribbean coast to the Pacific. Their weapons? Three American off-road titans. Hammond, with the manic gleam of a terrier, had chosen the Jeep Wrangler Rubicon. May, predictably, had chosen the sensible, if slightly clinical, Chevrolet Silverado ZR2. And Clarkson? Clarkson had chosen a hammer. A 450-horsepower, 510 lb-ft torque, desert-racing, dune-jumping, tree-swallowing hammer: the .
Here’s a fun, detailed story based on The Grand Tour Season 3, Episode 2 (titled “The Colombia Special”), which famously featured the Ford F-150 Raptor alongside a Chevrolet Silverado ZR2 and a Jeep Wrangler Rubicon. The Amazonian sun hadn’t even risen over the Colombian mountains, but Jeremy Clarkson was already yelling. Not at Richard Hammond or James May—yet—but at a recalcitrant can of coffee. “It’s frozen,” he grumbled, shaking the tin. “It’s the equator . How is it frozen?”
Then came the Raptor. Clarkson, channeling his inner Baja champion, decided that finesse was for people who didn’t have 450 horsepower. He hit the river at speed. The Raptor launched off a submerged rock, hung in the air for a glorious, terrifying second—Jeremy’s face a perfect O of panic and joy—and then slammed down into a four-foot-deep hole.
“It doesn’t fit ,” Hammond cackled from his narrow, nimble Jeep, which was threading through the gaps like a sewing machine needle.
The real baptism, however, came at the “river of sorrows,” a rushing, boulder-strewn death trap that the production team had laughably described as a “ford.” Hammond in the Jeep went first, bouncing and sliding but ultimately surviving. May in the Chevy went next, with all the grace of a librarian waltzing—cautious, effective, but utterly boring.
“It’s a cheat code!” he screamed over the radio. “The faster you go, the smoother it gets! It’s like the road just gives up and apologizes for existing!”
He never did get his coffee. But the Raptor got its legend.
The trio had been given a simple task: cross 800 miles of the most brutal, beautiful, and utterly ridiculous terrain on the planet, from the Caribbean coast to the Pacific. Their weapons? Three American off-road titans. Hammond, with the manic gleam of a terrier, had chosen the Jeep Wrangler Rubicon. May, predictably, had chosen the sensible, if slightly clinical, Chevrolet Silverado ZR2. And Clarkson? Clarkson had chosen a hammer. A 450-horsepower, 510 lb-ft torque, desert-racing, dune-jumping, tree-swallowing hammer: the .
Here’s a fun, detailed story based on The Grand Tour Season 3, Episode 2 (titled “The Colombia Special”), which famously featured the Ford F-150 Raptor alongside a Chevrolet Silverado ZR2 and a Jeep Wrangler Rubicon. The Amazonian sun hadn’t even risen over the Colombian mountains, but Jeremy Clarkson was already yelling. Not at Richard Hammond or James May—yet—but at a recalcitrant can of coffee. “It’s frozen,” he grumbled, shaking the tin. “It’s the equator . How is it frozen?”